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I keep my hand on Cassandra’s lower back as we walk down the steps to meet them.
Mrs. Cantrell climbs out of the car first and holds her hands up toward the house. “Holy shit!”
Cassandra cracks up next to me. “Mom!”
“Well, seriously, Cassandra.” She drops her hands to her hips. “You cannot just go from that cute little cul-de-sac to this and expect me to pretend that’s normal.”
I wince a little when she calls our old street cute.
Casandra has been taking their calls and texts the last few days like nothing was amiss. Her mom was extra attentive, making sure Cassandra was still okay after everything that happened in Mexico, so I’m sure she’ll insist on moving in for the next month when she finds out what else has happened.
We talked about it and agreed to tell them everything. Or at least the broad strokes. And if they ask us a question, we won’t lie. Cassandra is certain they won’t try to turn me in to the authorities, and I trust my Butterfly, so I’ll trust them.
Mrs. Cantrell turns to me after she hugs Cassandra. “The house is beautiful. And absurd.”
“Mom!”
Some of my anxiousness fades. “It is both of those things.” I start to hold out my hand to Cassandra’s mom, but she just pushes it away and grabs me for a hug.
“I don’t know why you lived in that sad little house when you could afford this.” She pulls back and smiles at me. “But I’m glad you did.”
“Mom, you can’t go from calling it cute to sad.”
We both ignore Cassandra.
“I’m glad I did too.” My words feel so inadequate for how true they are.
Mrs. Cantrell hooks her arm in Cassandra’s. “Show me inside.” As they pass me and head up the steps, I hear Mrs. Cantrell say, “Yourhouse is cute. His was sad.”
Both houses are equally destroyed now, but it’s still a fair description.
Mr. Cantrell stops before me, making no attempt to follow the ladies.
I’m significantly larger than he is, but I suddenly feel like I’m back in my teenaged body. Trying to stand straighter. Trying to prove I’m worthy.
I take a breath.
I’ve battled against so many odds.
I’ve fought for my life and survived.
I can do this too.
“I love your daughter,” I tell him. “Cassandra is… She’s my everything. And I’d like to ask you for her hand.”
Mr. Cantrell looks past me to the mansion at my back. “I wasn’t in communications in the army. I wasn’t even in the army.” He pauses, and my nerves spike. “I was with something else.”
I swallow. “Three-letter agency?”
He doesn’t confirm.
“I saw a lot of shit. Most of it had nothing to do with wars, but I saw a lot of dangerous men.” His eyes move back to meet mine. “They’re easy to recognize when you know what to look for.”
I fight my body’s instinct to move back and hold his gaze.
He dips his head like he’s making a decision. “I knew what you were the first time we met.”
His words feel like ice across my skin. “If you try to stop me?—”
