Page 24 of Wrangling the Orc Cowboy

“Sweetie, don’t be so rash.” Steel lined Mom's tone. “This isn’t only about you. It’s about the whole family. The reunion special could be a beautiful moment for all of us, something we can all cherish forever.”

“The whole family?” I laughed softly, but there was no humor in it. “You mean the three of us, pretending to be some picture-perfect family unit on camera for a paycheck? We never were that, Mom. Not when the cameras shut off.” They'd go do their star thing, attending shows and posing for the paparazzi while I'd scurry back to our estate and into my room, shutting the door so I could finally find blessed silence.

I remembered the silence after the director yelled cut. It used to coat everything in a numb hush. That was when I knew I had no dialogue, no place in the room.

“Oh, Gracie,” she sighed. “You’ve always been a bit sensitive, haven’t you? You don’t see the bigger picture. This isn’t about money?—”

“It’s always about money,” I barked, my patience thinner than the tissue bits floating down around my bare feet. “It always has been. And while we’re on the subject, why don’t you tell me how much of this enormous payout you’re both so excited about actually goes to me?”

“Gracie,” Dad huffed, his cheerful tone dropping like always. “That’s uncalled for.”

“Is it?” My frustration bubbled past my carefully constructed calm. I stood up and started pacing the room, the hiss of my feet on the wide floorboards reminding me I was here, and they were not. I could hang up. End the call and not answer when they redialed, which they would. “You really want to talk uncalledfor? How about keeping me under your thumb for all those years?”

I’d lived so long inside a frame they chose for me that I’d forgotten what it felt like to speak without whatever they’d written being shoved in front of me to be memorized. Every step I took now still carried an echo of their choreography.

“That’s enough,” Mom growled before smoothing her voice. “This is always about money for you.”

No, but it sure was for them.

“You’ll have access to your trust in a few years. We’ve always told you that. We only wanted to make sure you didn’t squander it.”

“Squander it?” My laugh was harsh and bitter this time. “Right, because paying for an education or starting my career would’ve been such a waste.”

“Let’s not let emotions take over here,” Dad cut in, his voice smoothing back into salesman silk. “We’re trying to have a pleasant conversation. We still want what’s best for you. Always have. This would be good for everyone. It would bring us all closer together.”

“I don’t need us to be closer, Dad,” I said flatly, sinking back into the chair and forcing my tone to even out again. “I need to keep moving forward, and that doesn’t include going back to the life I’ve already left behind.”

Silence rang through the line.

Then Mom spoke, her voice brimming with carefully manufactured sorrow. “Please think about it, sweetie. That’s all we’re asking. No pressure. This would be such a wonderful opportunity for you.”

Forthem. Never for me.

“I’ve already thought about it. More than you realize. And my answer is still no.”

“Gregory sends his best, by the way,” Mom added abruptly, as if the faux-fiancé card was her ace in the hole. “He’s excited about the thought of seeing you again. That man is such a charmer.”

“Gregory.” The taste of his name on my tongue turned all the heat in my body to ice. Years of fake smiles, staged romantic moments, and his constant condescending tone echoed in my mind. A charmer? If you’re into slimy reptiles in slick suits with hands that wandered where they shouldn't too often. He'd thought we should be the real deal. Sleep together and all that.

I’d refused.

I pressed my fingers to my temples, trying to rub away the headache pounding through my brain. “Tell Gregory I’d be as thrilled about reuniting with him as I’d be about stepping in wet cement barefoot.” And once your foot sinks, you don’t even scream. You just learn to get comfortable with the weight. Pretend it’s a choice.

“Don’t be dramatic.” Strain cracked my father's voice. “This isn’t personal. Remember how well you two worked together on camera. You had chemistry.”

“Goodnight, Mom. Goodnight, Dad. I'm hanging up now. Bye.” I ended the call before they could pile on any more sugar-coated guilt. As the room fell silent, I leaned back in the chair, puffing out a long breath.

After dropping my phone on the bedside table, I slunk to bed, turned off the light, and lay in the dark.

The quiet pressed its teeth into me slowly. No lights, no lines, no smile waiting for the next cue. Only my thoughts prowling the room, circling, trying to find a way out of this latest trap.

I dreamed of something better.

Of course, my thoughts kept slipping to Tark.

Chapter 9

Gracie

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