Page 59 of The Alpha's Pen Pal

“Thirteen.”

“Fuck, Haven, I’m sorry,” I mumbled, my hand forming into a fist and slamming down onto the rail.

“It’s okay,” she shrugged.

“No, it’s not,” I told her. “I don’t personally know what it’s like, but I’ve seen how Reid would get when his dad would miss out on shit. It’s not okay, Haven.”

“They went to everything else. But they never really tried to understand ballet and why it was important to me. They just wrote the checks and drove me where I needed to be.”

I clenched my jaw and leaned over the railing, clasping my hands together so my claws wouldn’t come out.

“For a long time, I didn’t think much of it,” she continued. “Well, at first, I was too young to realize there was something not right. They adopted me and took care of me. Our relationship was never amazing, but it was never bad either.”

I nodded as I listened to her talk, still holding back the beast inside. I wasn’t sure if he wanted me to hurt someone or have me grab her and kiss her pain away, but neither were good options.

“Then, when I was older, I was just so happy to be dancing, to be doing something I loved, that I brushed off a lot of things or ignored them altogether because I didn’t want to think about it. It was easier for me to not acknowledge it. I was healthy. I had everything I needed, everything I wanted. But after last weekend and today, I…” She stopped, her head tilting up towards the darkening sky as she blinked her eyes rapidly, the tip of her nose turning pink.

“You what?” I asked, standing up straighter.

It didn’t escape my notice the other day that she’d hidden her tears from me once she realized she was crying. Maybe she saw it as a weakness, or maybe she just never let people see that side of her, but I didn’t want her to hide it. Not from me, anyway.

“They told me he died,” she said in a hoarse voice, followed by a sharp, shaky intake of breath that was almost a sob.

I stood stock still. Unable to breathe. My heart was in my feet, and my stomach was in my throat. I had no words.

“They told me Jack died, and Shirley was put in a home for… mental health issues… and—” She sniffled and turned her head away from me, faking a cough to cover her sobs.

I doused the fiery anger threatening to consume me quickly because of her shaking shoulders and trembling body. As furious as I was, I had to put it aside and deal with it later because I needed to tend to her feelings first.

But make no mistake, I would lash out later. I would look into these people. I would burn the world down if it meant she would live the rest of her life without harm.

I placed my hands on her upper arms again with a gentle touch and stepped up close to her, leaving just a small bit of space, trying to ignore the electricity crackling between us. I wanted to turn her around and wrap her up tight, hold her to me, and never let her go.

But I also wanted it to be her decision. I wanted her to come to me. I wanted her to need me. Need me the way I realized I needed her.

“That’s what you meant. When you said you thought you’d never see them again.” She nodded, and I caressed her arms with slow movements.

I took a small step closer to her, and at the same time, she spun towards me, closing the distance between us and burying her face in my chest. Her hands clutched at my shirt, gripping the fabric in her fists.

For the second time that day, I found myself wrapping my arms around her, holding her against my body, keeping her safe and close. I hadn’t gotten to hold her as long as I wanted earlier, since she stepped away from me before I had a chance to drink in the feel of her in my arms.

This time, though, the reason for me holding her was different, and I had to shift my focus to consoling her, to being her strength as opposed to enjoying our closeness. Not that I minded. My lycan, while upset someone had hurt her, was pleased she was turning to us for comfort.

I held her tightly and let her cry, let her release her withheld grief, frustration, confusion, and pain. My body swayed from side to side in a gentle, soothing motion as her cries quieted to soft sighs, whimpers, and sniffles.

“Why would they do that?” she whispered, her hands pulling me even closer to her. “Why would they lie to me?”

“Maybe they were jealous?” I asked, not voicing my true suspicions or thoughts.

There was no way that was the real reason. There had to be something else going on, some other reason for them to do that.

“That’s a pretty awful reason to lie to a child,” she spat.

“I know,” I murmured, my hands caressing her back. “I know.” My nose pressed into the top of her head, burying into her hair. “Maybe they thought he would? Maybe they thought they were protecting you? Or maybe they didn’t know?” I suggested, her fiery strands tickling my lips.

“That’s not the only thing they lied about,” she continued. “They lied to me about the letter I sent you.”

“Maybe not? Maybe she did send it, and it got lost.”

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