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out that was pretty much the only way Adalynn could have
found out about her accident. Why did she care enough to
come all the way to Vegas? Not only that, but she’d taken care
of Cassia’s hospital bills before she’d even woken up. She
could have refused and then Adalynn would have been on the
line for the bills anyway. Cassia never would have done that,
but she could have all the same. Did Adalynn really trust her
so much, even though they’d only really known each other for
a couple hours six months ago?
When Cassia first got to Adalynn’s house—which was
nothing short of a ramshackle palace with sprawling, endless
amounts of space and a turret of all things—Adalynn had
insisted that Cassia not do any work for the first few days. She
wanted her to settle in, but she also wanted to make sure she
was fully healed. Even though she was still bruised here and
there, the marks were fading. Her neck felt much better. Her
arm was still sore, but even the jagged rows of stitches were
healing.
Cassia knew she was lucky. She could have been dead.
Instead, she was in South Carolina, which was pretty much the
last place on earth she’d ever expected to end up.
She shoved back the patchwork quilt and her feet hit the
wide floorboards. The whole house had crazy floorboards.
They weren’t a regular size. It was like someone had sawn a
tree down the middle and taken all those huge slabs and made
flooring out of them. Cassia liked it. She liked that the house
was so ancient it had a character that she’d never seen
anywhere else. She liked the bits that were sagging and the
bits that weren’t. She’d never seen so much wood in her life.
Never seen a real functioning fireplace, at least one that wasn’t
