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“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” he asked, straightening in his chair, his tiger sitting in attention in his chest, a snarl on his lips.
“No,” she replied, shaking her head. “I’m okay, but I need to give you something.”
He beckoned her forward, and noticed the paper in her hand. “What is it?”
Taking a shaky breath, she handed him the envelope. “It’s from my teacher, Mrs. White.”
Frowning, he ripped it open and read the request to come talk to the teacher. “Shelby, this was dated two days ago. Why did you wait so long to give it to me?”
Peeking up at him with bright blue eyes, so like his own, she shrugged. “I was scared to, I guess.”
“Scared?” he asked, studying her face. “Why don’t you tell me what Mrs. White wants to talk to me about. Was someone mean to you?”
He’d skin them alive if they were, kid or not, his tiger didn’t care. Shelby had been teased and tormented her whole life for the birthmark on her face. Tigers prized beauty, and his daughter being marked as she was made her a target. Even her own mother had been unbelievably cruel to her. That was one of the reasons he fought so hard to get custody of Shelby.
When it came time for Shelby to start school, he was hesitant. She’d finally started to heal from the treatment she endured for the first eight years of her life, and he knew kids could be cruel. But he didn’t have the skills to homeschool her, and everyone else was busy starting their lives with their new mates. He knew they’d all be willing to help, but he couldn’t ask them to teach his daughter. But he’d pull her out of school and figure it out no matter what, if someone was bullying Shelby.
“There’s a boy who teases me a lot. Pulls my hair, tries to jump out and scare me all the time, chases me on the playground. And the other day, he said I looked like I had a bruise on my face, because of my birthmark.”
Ian stiffened, fury burning in his veins. This was exactly why he didn’t want to send her to school. “And what is this boy’s name?” he asked, trying to control his voice and make sure it was even.
She pressed her lips together. “I’m not telling you that. He’s eight, Dad. There’s not a lot you can do, but I know you. You’ll try. Besides, I took care of it.”
Raising an eyebrow, he took in the blush on her cheeks. “Took care of it?”
Scuffing her foot on the porch, she nodded. “I… well, I punched him. In the nose. I told him I could show him what it looked like when your face was really bruised, and I hit him. I didn’t mean to, it just happened.”
She punched the little bastard. He stared at her for a long moment before his lips curled up in a smile. “Good girl.”
Whipping her head up, she stared at him. “You’re not mad?”
“Not at all,” he replied, running a hand over her silky light brown hair. “I’m proud that you didn’t just sit there and take it. Did you get him good?”
“He howled for like five minutes straight,” she said, a smile flirting with her lips before she frowned. “But then I started feeling bad. I should have walked away instead of hitting him. And I hurt my thumb.”
“Did you tuck you thumb inside your fist?” he asked. She nodded. “Next time, leave it out. Like this.”
She studied his hand and mimicked the fist he made before shaking her head and dropping her hand. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t need to know how. What I did was wrong. You can’t solve conflict with violence. That’s what Mrs. White says. I really disappointed her.”
Frowning, he replied, “Shelby honey, no. I’m sure you didn’t. And she’s right, in a way. Violence isn’t the answer. But it’s always a good idea to know how to defend yourself. If someone is going to hurt you, you should know what to do in return.”
“He wasn’t hurting me, though,” she said, shame on her features.
“Maybe not physically, but he hurt your feelings, didn’t he?”
“Yeah,” she replied, shoulders slumping. “But that was no excuse to hit him. That’s what Mrs. White said. She was right, and I feel really bad now. She told me to apologize to Bobby, and I tried, but he ran away.”
He wouldn’t laugh at the thought of a boy running from his dainty daughter, but he wanted to. “Honey, don’t feel bad. Really. He sounds like he had it coming. But next time you’re having trouble with a classmate like that, come tell me. Maybe I can do something to stop it.”
“Okay, I will.”
“Is that what your teacher wants to talk to me about?” he asked, holding the letter up.
“Yeah. I should have given it to you the other day, but I was scared you’d be upset with me like Mrs. White.”
“I’m not upset, Shelby, and your teacher shouldn’t be, either. I’ll go talk to her tomorrow after school, okay? Now go get your bath and get ready for bed.”
“Okay,” she said, surprising him when she darted in and kissed his cheek.
