Cass cleared her throat. “Persephone, the High Priestess.” She went to take the card from him.
He held onto it and took in Cass’s flushed face as she avoided his eyes. “And in this position?”
“She represents the external influences.” She tugged on the card, but when he continued to hold it, she finally met his gaze.
“She’s you,” he guessed.
Cass gave him a small, hesitant nod.
The flash of vulnerability tugged at him. “Tell me about her.” It was a gentle demand, but a demand nevertheless.
She dropped her eyes to the card he held, her thumb brushing over the image. “She’s the epitome of duality, representing a highly intuitive person, someone who offers whispers of wisdom to guide others. She’s more than she appears.” Cass met his gaze and held it, a war brewing in the depths of her gold-shot eyes. “She can also be someone who is emotionally cold, unable to maintain deep connections for fear of being hurt, and she can easily disconnect from the world around her.”
He understood her warning, but no one got to their age without picking up a few dents and dings. “No one is all one thing, Cass. That’s the beauty of personal choice. We get to choose who we are and how we move through this world. Not everything is set in stone.” He let the card go.
“Oh, trust me, I’m well aware of that.” Her admission was weighty with experience. Cass tucked the card into the deck. “But sometimes those choices only lead to one end, no matter which road we take.”
Chapter 11
Cass
Cass walked next to Grayson as a line of sweat beaded along her spine under her simple black dress. Although it was late morning, the Vegas heat was stifling. Even the breeze drifting off the man-made lake that the path curved along couldn’t relax its hold. Not that it mattered to Cass. Sometime between stepping out of Grayson’s car and walking up to the chapel doors, a numbing cloak had fallen around her, holding the world at bay. She clutched it close, grateful for its emotional protection as she navigated the endless parade of strangers gathered to pay their respects. Within its folds she could pretend she was watching someone else’s life play out. Even her mother’s chilly disdain, her father’s typical disinterest, and Sofia’s obvious grief barely penetrated. She sat through the memorial service in the packed chapel as the sentiments washed over her in a deluge of white noise.
The only thing that felt real was the steady hold of Grayson’s hand in hers. She took her cues from him—standing when he tugged, sitting when he gently pressed. Fortunately, her yaya had made it clear that there would be no viewing and had insisted the closed casket would be set in place before the memorial service started. Iris had requested that the service in the chapel center on sharing stories of a life well spent, not on the empty shell left behind. Those gathered honored that wish, the stories continuing even as the service’s allotted time came and went. Finally, the priest gave a gentle reminder that the majority were invited to stay and continue to share as the family said their goodbyes at Iris’s final resting place.
Grayson led her out behind her parents, Sofia and Russ, and a handful of others as they made their way to the family plot. It was nestled in a walled garden facing the serene lake. The group separated into clusters under the shade of the two trees guarding the headstones nestled amid the neatly cut grass. When the dark mound of dirt piled to the side of one of the larger headstones caught her eye, something finally penetrated. A searing pain clawed at her heart, making her chest ache. Her soft, pained gasp had Grayson letting go of her hand so he could curl his arm around her waist and pull her tight to his side. The world steadied, and she leaned into his strength, forcing her attention away from the haunting hole where the curved edge of a casket could just be seen.
Her parents moved to stand with a somber priest and spoke in low tones. Her father’s ever-present blank mask was firmly in place, but her mother’s face was drawn, and there were dark shadows under reddened eyes. Cass had no interest in their conversation; instead she stayed still and silent at Grayson’s side as she waited for the others to say their goodbyes. Her parents didn’t linger but stood over the grave for long moments before her mother took one of the roses from a nearby arrangement and dropped it on top of the casket before turning away. They headed out of the small garden. Cass deliberately avoided meeting their eyes by keeping hers on Yaya’s grave. She wasn’t sure she could handle what would be staring back.
Sofia was next, an overly solicitous Russ at her side. Her shoulders shook as she took two roses and held them close. She bowed her head and pressed her lips to one of them before crouching to set it on top. She kept her hand there for long minutes before letting Russ help her back up. Sofia stepped back, turned, and moved off to the right. Russ went to follow her, but she waved him off. He continued to watch her as she went to a headstone lying under the protective branches of an old-growth tree. She crouched, brushed her hand over the surface, then carefully set the second rose on the marker. The pain in Cass’s chest dug deeper, shredding a hole in the protective numbness, and a lump lodged itself in her throat. Although her eyes burned, they remained painfully dry.
Sofia rejoined Russ, who then guided her past them, lifting his chin to Grayson. His gaze slid to Cass before his attention was reclaimed by Sofia, who stumbled. He steadied her, and as they walked by, Cass couldn’t stop herself from reaching out to catch her baby sister’s hand and give it a gentle squeeze. Sofia’s head lifted, revealing a face wet with tears and eyes bruised by grief. She returned the gesture before letting Cass’s hand slip from hers as Russ led her away.
Standing at Grayson’s side, Cass—too lost in her head to pay attention to her surroundings—barely registered the others saying their goodbyes. Only when Grayson called her name did she shove her way through the hazy fog and realize they were alone.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“We’ll need to leave soon to make it to the reading,” Grayson repeated, brushing his thumb over her cheek.
“Right.” Her gaze went to the casket. “Can you give me a minute?”
He dipped his chin and let her go.
She walked slowly toward the open grave with an etched marble at its head. With each step, the numbness thinned, and a storm of emotions crowded in. She stopped, noting that there was a new date carved into the marker Iris now shared with her beloved husband. The finality of that date shredded the insulating emotional cloak even more. Cass spotted a beautiful arrangement of gold daffodils tucked among the roses and carefully pulled one free from the bouquet. She returned to the grave’s edge, dropped into a closed-knee crouch, and set it on top of the scattered collection of roses. The gold blooms were a slash of brightness among the deep reds.
She flattened her hand against the sun-warmed wood. “I miss you.”
The three little words released the lock holding everything back. Sorrow ripped the last numbing threads free and bled down her cheeks as she whispered her goodbyes. Somewhere in the midst of the storm, strong arms wrapped around her and held her close. When it finally ebbed, she rested her head against Grayson’s chest. Despite the pall of the day, the sun continued to shine down with an unrelenting brightness while a nearby bird sang and was answered—a reminder that death wasn’t an end, just a transition, something she firmly believed. In fact, she would place good money on the idea that her grandparents were somewhere else, making the most of their reunion. At that thought, a sweet peace tinged with an irreverent humor seeped in, easing the ache around her heart.
“You two had better behave, Yaya,” she whispered with a shaky smile. “I’ll see you around, okay?”
Grayson straightened first, holding out his hand to help her up. “Ready to head over to your parents’ place?”
Not even in the slightest. But she didn’t have much of a choice. “I will be.”
She waited for the pins and needles to fade from her legs then turned toward the shaded spot Sofia had visited. Images from the previous day’s nuanced reading rose, accompanied by whispers of warning. There had been a few things in the reading she hadn’t shared with Grayson, namely the importance of their individual cards and the possibilities they presented. Even though her inquiry was focused on something completely different, the fact she and Grayson were shown as two of the most influential cards revealed the potential for an unexpected, yet powerful, emotional connection.
Relationship, she silently corrected, refusing to lie to herself.
