Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 109853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
His chin lifted. “We did what was best for you. We always have.”
Okay, now that pissed her off. Because it was a total lie. “Always? Really? I was terrified when I shifted for the first time. Terrified. Because I was alone, and I didn’t know what to do. I’d known it was coming for weeks because I felt my wolf trying to rise. You knew how frightened I was, because I told you. And you said that there was no one to help me. But there was, wasn’t there?”
“They had no place in your life.”
“You made sure of that. You didn’t think of how it might have felt if the situation were reversed; you just cut them off. I would have expected better of a judge. Aren’t you supposed to consider all sides of a situation? Aren’t you supposed to deal with others with sensitivity and have no bias?”
“They didn’t deserve our sensitivity!”
“Did I? Because I don’t think you once considered me in your decision to remove them from my life. You knew I was half shifter. Knew it would be hard for me to be away from other wolves and have no territory. Knew I’d have to one day shift and that someone should be there with me to make sure it went smoothly. You made a decision that worked for you, not for me. You made a decision that allowed you to hurt them, so don’t say you did what was best for me. Maybe you and Marcia kidded yourselves into thinking it was for my benefit, but you won’t kid me.”
His cheeks reddened. “We did what we thought was right.”
“I know you too well to believe that lie.” She sighed. “So, what, you’re holding your love hostage? I can’t have it back until I do what you want?” Frankie shook her head. “Unreal. I make my decisions. I’m a full-grown woman—”
“Then act like one. Grow up. Get a real job.”
“You did not just fucking say that.”
They both turned at the sound of Trick’s voice. He stood in the doorway, eyes flinty, jaw hard. Frankie bit her lip. Maybe it hadn’t been such a great idea to give him a key to the house.
When he’d pulled up outside the house, Trick had guessed that the Lexus at the end of her driveway belonged to either Frankie’s uncle or her grandparents. He’d also figured that there was a good chance that her ex had called them about her date with Trick. So the sound of raised voices had come as no surprise to him.
He’d been ready to step in and defend his mate whether she needed it or not. What he hadn’t been prepared for was the pain in her voice as she’d spoken of how terrified she’d been during her first shift. The words rang with the sense of isolation and loneliness she’d felt back then. It had gutted Trick and his wolf. Absolutely gutted them.
What made it worse was that her maternal family had known how frightened she’d been. They’d done nothing. One phone call. They could have made one fucking phone call, and Lydia would have been at her side to help her through it. But they didn’t. And then for Geoffrey to so coldly and scornfully snipe that she should get a “real job” was the icing on the fucking cake.
Anger surged through Trick, heating his blood. He stalked into the kitchen, fisted Geoffrey’s collar, and literally hauled the flailing human down the hallway and through to Frankie’s studio. There Trick shoved him toward the hellhorse sculpture. “Look. Look.”
Geoffrey looked at it, and he actually did a double take.
“Frankie made that. Not just physically. She created it up here.” Trick tapped his temple. “Tell me that’s nothing. Tell me you’ve ever made something like that in your life. Tell me you could ever create something like that with not only your own two hands, but with your brain. You can’t, can you? That’s not a simple hobby. It’s a gift. A skill. One that’s appreciated worldwide by galleries, artists, critics, and art lovers. But her biggest fans should have been you, your wife, and your son. If nothing else, she should have had your support and respect. Because that kind of creativity and skill is worth a hell of a lot of respect. Am I wrong?”
“You’re not wrong,” conceded Geoffrey, but his voice was void of emotion.
“Then why doesn’t she have it?” Trick demanded. “Why won’t you give her the credit she’s due?”
Geoffrey didn’t answer. Just stared at him.
“Is it because Christopher used to paint?” Trick asked. The human’s eyes flashed, and Trick knew he’d hit the nail on the head. “He was arty, wasn’t he? You see that trait in her, and you don’t like it. But see, that’s your problem. And it should have been a problem you ignored out of love for her and because you want her to be happy. But you didn’t. For that, you should be ashamed of yourself.”