How Cassie Got Her Grind Back(Divine Creek Ranch 23)(26)

Without missing a beat, Ivan shrugged. “There is no difference. They’re the same thing.”

Cassie’s eyes widened, and she gasped. “I so totally took you for a Muggle!”

Ivan rumbled with laughter. “Call it a guilty pleasure. I’m a big-time Potterhead.”

With laughter in her voice, Cassie replied, “Tamara and Joseph still haven’t grown out of their Harry Potter phase, and they managed to get me on board, too.”

“Hermione from time to time gets a little…shall we say testy. And it’s everything I can do not to purse my lips and say in my best Professor Snape voice, “Control your emotions!”

“Is she demanding? Her place is a little above my pay grade so I’ve never been in there.”

“Nah. The key is flexibility. When she wants to change the menu up, she means that day, not next week or next month. But I don’t mind. It keeps me on my toes, and she pays me well to be adaptable.”

“I think it’s sad we were so close for so long and then never got back in touch.” Her voice was soft with regret. “I wish I’d been stronger…had stood up to my father better.”

“Honey, no one stood up to your dad, and you were raised to obey. I should’ve…”

Ivan’s drumming fingers stilled on the steering wheel as the memory of Homecoming their senior year of high school came to him. The crisp fall wind had done nothing to dry the cold sweat breaking out over him, and the pain in his knee had paled in comparison to watching Cassie deal with her infuriated father on her own. Jorge Villalobos had lambasted her in the crowded concourse in between the concession and ticket stands and the concrete ramps leading up into the football stadium seating.

Cassie, Samson, and Ivan hadn’t even known what had happened at first. He’d been on the sidelines icing his knee and waiting to be taken to the emergency room, Samson was still on the playing field, and Cassie had been in the stands with the marching band, preparing to go out for the half-time show. The rumors had spread through the entire crowd before any of them had known, and by the end of the game, it’d all been hearsay.

According to their shocked and obviously upset mother, Samson and Ivan’s father and Cassie’s mother, Delicia Villalobos, had been taken away by sheriff’s deputies in handcuffs from the final football game of their senior year.

Later in the concourse, Mr. Villalobos had seethed. “You will never have contact with those boys again! Lo prohíbo! I told you—I told you they would be nothing but trouble to this family, them and now their father, too. Your mother has shamed herself with that hijo de puta! Never speak to them again, no visits, and no more boyfriend-girlfriend nonsense. They’re not welcome in the restaurant, either. If I find out you have had contact with them, I will not pay for your college tuition and I will not have anything further to do with you. No help, no job will come to you from this family. You have both brought shame to me! Those white boys have probably made you their whore already. And I know where you learned it from—your mother playing the whore with their father!”

Cassie’s face, pale with shock, had grown whiter with every hurtful word. Confusion showed in her eyes. “Papá, what are you saying? What happened? I don’t understand!”

“Your mother and that Cutter bastard were just put in handcuffs and carted off by the sheriff! Arrested on suspicion of fraud! She can rot in jail for bringing shame on this family.” Onlookers in the crowd wore various expressions of dismay and shock at the news because both sets of parents had always been avid supporters of the team and were trusted and well-respected members of the football boosters organization.

“What?” Cassie had gasped. She’d cast her gaze around at the bystanders and swayed on her feet. Samson had moved through the crowd to help her, but she caught a glimpse of him and held up a hand to stop him.

“No more!” her father had roared, his face red with fury as he caught her non-verbal communication with Samson. “You heard me! No more contact with any son of a bitch whose last name is Cutter. Ever! Or—or you will be my daughter no more!” Mr. Villalobos had then grasped his chest, panting as Cassie ran to him to catch him as he collapsed.

“Papá!” She looked up at the crowd. “Is there a doctor here? Someone call an ambulance!”

“You see? You see?” he’d ground out as he gripped his chest and panted. “You are killing me!”

Samson and Ivan, who was hobbling on crutches, had both moved forward, determined to help despite Mr. Villalobos’s cruel words. Cassie deserved better than to have everyone in the crowd, standing in shock, staring at her. It was obvious she didn’t know any more than they had at the time.