“I don’t give a fuck what Tyson Savage thinks.”
“He’s led a very non-traditional life, Amie. Above and beyond the wolf shifter supernatural thing. His upbringing… he was kidnapped as a baby, taken from his loved ones and raised by someone who was delusional and hell-bent on revenge. He was turned into a weapon. He was robbed of a childhood, neglected. It’s a terrible story.”
“Yeah, well, that doesn’t justify what he did to Ivy.”
“No, but we don’t understand this world completely, sweetie. We have a lot to learn.”
I huff out my exasperation with this topic.
“Your sister is moving on from it,” Mom says, finger-combing my hair.
I roll my eyes.
“She needs you to support that.”
I say nothing.
Mom scoots over and I put my head in her lap. She keeps playing with my hair.
“Where are things at with you and Mason?” she asks.
And I go stiff.
“He looks like hell,” she mutters.
“Aw, poor Mason. Cry me a river,” I mumble. And feel immediately awful after saying it.
“Baby girl, listen to your mom. Okay? Take today to consider all that you’ve got downstairs. All that you’ve got going for you in this place. Think about the beautiful gift you and your sister have been given with becoming a part of this wonderful community. And pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and be the strong woman you are. Let yourself have the happiness you so desperately want and deserve.”
I say nothing.
“You deserve happiness, sweetheart.”
I still stay silent.
“Amelia Penelope Brennan, listen to your mother…”
“I need to be alone. Can you close the door on your way out?” I roll off Mom’s lap and point my gaze the other way.
“So at least you’re staying…” she says.
“I haven’t got much choice for the moment. He won’t let me leave!” I cry out.
“Good. Leaving is the last thing you need to do.” She leans over and kisses my forehead. “I love you sweet girl. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Did you pick your shapeshifter yet?” I call out, turning to watch her go.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” she taunts. “It turns out, I spent a lot of time with one of them last night. Went home with him in fact.” She smiles.
My mouth drops open. “Who?”
“Take today for you. We’ll talk tomorrow. I get to have the occasional secret, too, you know.” She closes the door and leaves me alone.
I get up and put my ear to the door.
“Give her a little bit of space. Okay?” Mom says, voice trailing off as if she’s walking farther away, most likely toward the front door. “She’s had a lot happen in a short time and she needs processing time.”
I can’t make out what Mason says in response, but his voice sounds frustrated.
I walk back to the bed and lift the remote control, letting out a heavy sigh.
51
Mason
I wake at dawn, on the couch. I went into the bedroom a few times yesterday after Kathleen left, but I have given her space. First, to bring her a sandwich and another coffee after those eggs went cold. Then I went back and the sandwich was untouched, but the coffee had been drank. I brought her a bottle of water. She didn’t take her eyes off the television while I was there.
The third time, I brought her dinner and informed her that she really needed to eat.
I came back half an hour later and it was untouched. Again, she wouldn’t look at me, just stared at the television.
I called the restaurant and Roxy ran over an order of chili fries and a smash burger, ringing the bell and leaving it. I waved as she pulled away and then brought it upstairs with a bottle of Coke.
“Sit up,” I ordered.
Amie’s response was to turn the volume up on the television.
I sat down and unwrapped, then set up the food on the table beside the bed. And then I lifted her into an upright position and she tried to shove me, refusing to look at me. “Either you eat some food, or I feed you. Choose.”
She leveled me with a dirty look, a look so dirty I got a sinking sensation in my chest. But she reached over and nabbed a chili and cheese coated fry and shoved it into her mouth.
She chewed with her mouth open in an exaggerated way, as if to disgust me, but instead of reacting, I just stayed still and watched.
She grabbed the burger and took a big bite.
“Baby…” I whispered. “I’m sorry you’re hurting. What can I do?”
“Let me go,” she said around a mouthful of food.
“Not doin’ that,” was my answer.
“Leave me alone.”
“I’ll give you space, but we’ll be talking this out. We’ll be working this out, wildberry.”
“Whatever,” she replied and took a sip of Coke.
Despite the painted-on angry attitude, I know she’s hurting inside. I feel it. And I fucking loathe it.