Twelve
“What do you mean you might have to sell the ranch?” Becky asked. Her heart pounded, sending wave upon chilling wave of dread washing through her as she glanced between her parents and the Robinsons. Nothing in any of their faces was reassuring. They were all gathered in the Robinsons’ spacious living room the morning after her evening with Shane and Ashleigh, lounging on the couches and recliners and pretending everything was all right.
Beside her, James wasn’t faring any better; he worked at the frayed cuffs of his favorite MSU Bobcats sweatshirt, accelerating the shirt’s demise. Half a dozen scenarios prowled through her mind, and she shivered, noting how her parents and the Robinsons carried on a silent conversation of frowns and head shakes as if they were debating how to bre
