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gently on Adalynn’s. Her fingers were like ice, but she didn’t

move her palm away from the arm of the desk chair. Cassia

curled her palm over Adalynn’s, taking her hand and clutching

it tightly. “You were never a whore and you’ll never become

one.”

Adalynn looked at her, her huge gray eyes filled with

sadness, and rage scoured through Cassia’s chest like steel

wool again. “How can you say that with all that you know

about me?”

“Because you weren’t a whore,” Cassia said firmly. “And

that’s a dirty word for a sad, sad profession that is filled with

pain and desperation and women doing what they have to do

to survive. People use that word in such a terrible way. People

have no compassion. If your mother meant that you’d use

someone for your own gain, I know that’s not what you did.

There are many different kinds of love. I think you were truly

loved, and I also think that your late husband would want you

to be happy now.”

Adalynn sniffed. She reached up and brushed at her eyes.

“You’re right. He would say that.”

“I think you have a good moral compass, Adalynn. I think

you’re a good person. I think people can be motivated by

many things. Greed. Fear. The many different kinds and forms

of love. I don’t think you’ve ever done anything out of greed,

and I hope you won’t let fear have any place in your life now. I

guess what I’m really asking is, are you happy?”

Adalynn’s eyes were gray thunderheads that promised a

storm, but never delivered more than a gentle rain when it was

most needed. “You’re asking if I want you to stay.”

“No. I’m asking if you’re happy.”