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“Hey, what’s wrong?” I take her by the shoulders and move her into a side aisle, alarm bells going off in my head.
There is little privacy here, but at least we’re not in the middle of the open store.
Cassandra blinks like she isn’t sure how I appeared and looks to be on the brink of some emotional shutdown.
“Someone broke into my house last night. While I was sleeping. Or well, I woke up while they were there.”
Ice-cold water might as well have been dumped over my head. “Are you fucking serious?”
Confusion dots her green eyes. “Yes.”
“Who was it? Did you see them? Did they …”
Words trap in the back of my throat, the kind I never want to say, but especially when it comes to Cassandra, burn like a fireball lodged there.
Those emerald eyes stare at me, until I see something register, and she shakes her head. “They never came into my bedroom. Got spooked when I made a noise.”
“Thank fuck.” I breathe through my nose, avoiding hauling her against my chest. “Did they take anything? The house, is it—”
She holds up her basket. “I got new locks, not that it matters because they broke a window to get in. I think they were teenagers, didn’t think anyone would be home. But I … wait, why are you here?”
Cassandra eyes me suspiciously like I might have had something to do with her home break-in.
“Just needed some lightbulbs for the restaurant. I didn’t … I wasn’t following you or anything. And I don’t mean to alarm you, but more security is probably better. For who you are.”
“Butch’s daughter? Yeah, I got it from your first and second conversation, oh and the third, too. People hate my family.” Her nostrils flare like she’s disgusted with me.
“That’s not what I meant. I meant that you’re a famous actress, and there are a lot of idiotic teens in Hope Crest who think they could make a quick buck stealing from you.”
“Didn’t think many teens in Hope Crest had money troubles.” She scoffs, like I was raised with a silver spoon in my mouth.
“Then they want the story or some shit, I don’t know. I’d never attempt something like that. But you do need more security.”
“Thanks, Captain Obvious. As if I didn’t drive here before the sun came up just to wait for them to open. I couldn’t stay in that house, I can’t …”
She trails off, and I realize I’ve come at this all wrong. She doesn’t need me lecturing her or acting like a possessive jerk. She needs comfort, safety. Carefully, like I’m hugging a feral cat who might scratch me viciously, I fold her into my arms. Her back heaves, like she’s collapsing or trying to hold in a big sob.
“I’m sorry. It must have been very scary.”
“It was.” Her voice breaks as she nods into my chest.
“What can I do? Have you called the police?” I ask gently, stroking her back.
The feelings of intimacy and wanting to be more for her have to be crammed into the back of my brain, because Cassandra needs me in a different capacity right now. No, she doesn’t needme, she needs someone. Anyone. I’m just glad it happened to be me who stumbled upon her first.
“They don’t need to be involved. I’ll just change the locks, get some pepper spray. Call the security company I have in California and—”
“If kids are going around breaking into homes, the Hope Crest police need to know. If you aren’t safe, you need to report it.” I’m stern in my tone, but I’m not messing around.
“I’ve got it handled.” She peers up at me, her eyes glassy.
Nothing about how she’s responding tells me she’s got it handled.
“And you don’t always have to handle everything yourself,” I tell her.
“Been doing it my whole life, nothing new.” She shrugs, averting her gaze from my prying one.
“Well, I’m here. I’ll follow you home, and then I’ll drive you to the station.”
