Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 77775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Dad’s dining room is filled with the usual chaos my family brings, though this time, we’re hosting a new person. Therapist Tate. Rather than approach the table where several family members sit, I assess Tate from afar.
Yesterday, he seemed so small.
Lost and afraid.
Today, his fear is erased and his smile is an easy one. His dark brown hair flops to one side and his face is clean-shaven. Sitting next to Willa as she grins, gesticulating toward her stomach, he listens with rapt attention. He doesn’t look my way or even flinch at my arrival, too wrapped up in whatever she’s saying to him.
Therapist Tate doesn’t look like a therapist at all.
He looks like a little boy playing grown-up games.
What was Dad thinking, not just in hiring a family therapist, but also finding the greenest one he could?
It’s not like Dad to half-ass anything or cheap out, especially when his family is involved. So, why this guy? Why him of all the therapists in this town? I’m itching to get back to my office, so I can do a full investigation on this guy. Everyone has secrets and I always find them.
I’m an immovable statue as I take in this enemy, infiltrating our family’s most sacred time. Just because I hate attending doesn’t change the fact that it’s an important time for everyone to connect. Clearly, I keep showing up for them. And while Willa is a new addition to our group, she feels like family.
Therapist Tate?
A splinter piercing our thick exterior, small but no less impactful. His presence will cause infection, spreading and spreading until we’re all ruined.
Callum catches my gaze as he takes his seat on the other side of Willa, casually draping an arm over the back of her chair. Amusement causes his lips to curl into a lopsided grin. Asshole. He may not see Tate as a threat, but I do and I’ll do whatever I can to protect our family. I always do.
Ignoring his taunting smile, I drop into the chair directly across from Tate. I can sense Dad’s penetrating glare, most likely attempting to guilt me for sending Tate away, but I ignore that too. I study Tate intently, waiting for him to notice.
The guy can’t be taller than five-nine or ten and probably weighs as much as one of my thighs. That’s not saying he’s a waif, considering I’m built like your typical linebacker—coincidentally the position I played in high school—thick, tall, and rock-hard. Still, compared to me, he’s a little boy.
I smirk at the thought of a little boy coming into the Parks’ lair and presuming he can turn us all inside out. The Parks are wolves. Every single one of us men is. Even perfect Hugo—Mr. Attorney General—stares at his stepdaughter, Aubrey, like she’s Little Red Riding Hood and he’s going to devour her any second. He’s a fucking wolf too.
If I didn’t have my mask on, I’d take great pleasure in baring my teeth at the threat who sits directly across from me. His soft, pillowy lips and slightly pinked cheeks that give him an air of innocence don’t fool me.
He’s here to pick us apart.
Worse yet, Dad’s paying him to.
Not for long. Soon, I’ll pick him apart, prove to Dad we’re just fine without help, and send this little boy far away with his tail tucked between his legs.
As if suddenly becoming distinctly aware of my presence, Tate’s entire body tenses. The easy smile on his lips aimed at Willa melts away into a worried pout. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows and then slowly, he turns his head my way. Big brown eyes latch onto mine, hope briefly flickering in them. As soon as he feels the intensity roiling off me, aimed directly at him, he flinches as though I’ve slapped him.
Good.
I’ll do a helluva lot more than slap if I must.
My family—even when they’re being annoying as fuck—are the only thing I’ve got left in this world. They’re everything to me, meaning I’d do anything to protect them.
Unlike I could protect her…
I force away thoughts of my beloved mother and grit my teeth as I bore my gaze into Tate. I need him to understand I see him. He may be paid to try and get inside us, but that shit’s not happening.
“Easy there, killer,” Spencer says, dropping into the chair next to me. “We haven’t introduced murder into Rex’s diet yet.”
Tearing my stare from Tate, I turn to look down at my great-nephew, who’s drinking from a bottle Spencer is feeding him. Spencer fucked his stepmom, Aubrey’s mother, knocking her up, and little Rex is the byproduct of that crazy-ass shit. And, my brother, Hugo, for a while there thought the kid was his. I imagine he was in for quite the shock when he learned it was his grandson/stepson or something equally screwed up.