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“Fuck this,” I mumble, throwing the pillow across the room before I jump up from the bed and walk over to the bathroom. I turn on the shower, hoping that the hot water will relax my tense limbs and offer me some form of reprieve from my thoughts. The small bathroom fills with steam as I wash away the day—not that it was very productive. All I did was sit around Gray’s house and mope like a fucking child. God, I hate this. This is not who I am, and yet carrying my father’s disapproval on my shoulders is wearing me down.
He’s not the only man in my life who is causing havoc on my nerves though.
The man I love, the man I have committed my heart and soul to, is still lying to me, and I don’t know why. I’ve given him plenty of time to come clean, and he still persists on keeping me in the dark. The worst part of his omission is that I’m almost a hundred percent certain it stems from the same reason my father had a total meltdown yesterday.
Like Alaric, Gray wants to protect me.
When will these men get it into their thick heads that I don’t need protection?
I just need them.
Realizing that no matter how long I stay under the spray of water that it will be of little comfort to me, I step out of the shower, grab a towel, and wrap it around my naked frame. I pick up another towel to dry my hair while leaning against the bathroom doorframe. Absentmindedly, my gaze scans every inch of the minimalist bedroom. There isn’t anything personal or even remotely significant lying around. It’s bare and immaculately clean, with no real hint of my wolf anywhere. My heart sinks to the pit of my stomach with the epiphany.
Gray has never had a home or a family to call his own.
He has never had an ounce of love to speak of, preferring to keep his surroundings as bare as possible so as not to allow hope to set in—hope that maybe he’s deserving of everything that has been denied to him until now. It’s a hope that was buried long ago, with men like Master ruling over him in his young life. Gray hasn’t come out and said it yet, but I know that this mission is more than just a job for him. The way he froze when confronting Master told me all I needed to know.
That man abused him and stole his innocence. I saw unbridled fear in his eyes—a fear that can only be summoned from years of torture and abuse.
After that reaction, I’m as certain as I’ll ever be that my ghost once roamed the halls of the group home I had been spying on for most of the week. The only thing I still don’t know is if I was there, too, and if I was, does that mean Gray was there with me?
Having had enough of pondering the questions which I still have no answers for, I walk over to the bedside table and pick up my phone. On the second ring, my beloved sister answers.
“Zoey? What’s wrong?” she asks worriedly. “It’s five in the morning. Are you okay? Do you need help? I’ll come get you.”
Shit.
I should have looked at the hour before I called her. Now Layla is in mama bear mode, and it’s going to take me a bit to diffuse the bomb I set off with just one call.
“Layla, I’m okay,” I say sweetly, keeping my voice even so she knows I mean it. “I’m sorry I’m calling you so late. I didn’t mean to worry you.”
“You’re my baby sister. I’ll always worry,” she coos, sounding less hectic. “Just give me a second,” she adds, and I hear the ruffling of sheets seconds before I hear her locking a door.
“Okay. Now we have some privacy, kiddo. Mind explaining to me why you’re calling me at this hour?”
I chew on my bottom lip for a bit, hesitant about bringing up old wounds, but I need the answers anyway.
First things first.
“How is he?” I ask.
“Alaric?” she asks with a sigh. “Licking his wounds, I’m afraid. It’s hard for him to learn that his baby girl is all grown up now. Give him time, Zoey. He’ll come around. You’ll see.”
“I’m not so sure,” I mumble, feeling defeated.
“One thing about my husband is that although he’s stubborn, he’s no fool. It might take him a hot minute to see the error of his ways, but he always comes through in the end. He loves you, Zoey. All he wants is what’s best for you. At the end of the day, if you’re happy, he’s happy. Are you happy, Zoey?”
“I’m trying to be,” I reply in earnest.
“But something is preventing that,” she surmises intuitively. “What’s wrong, Zoey? How can I help?”
My hands start sweating so much that I have to grip the phone tighter or risk it falling to the floor. I sit on the edge of the bed and take a deep breath before bringing up old ghosts.
“Layla,” I choke out nervously, “do you…Do you remember the time we spent in the group home before we went to Aunt Lucy’s?”
The line goes silent for a bit, which only raises my hackles. “What’s this about, Zoey?”
“Layla, please. Do you remember or not?” I beg, needing to know.
