Total pages in book: 192
Estimated words: 192810 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 964(@200wpm)___ 771(@250wpm)___ 643(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 192810 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 964(@200wpm)___ 771(@250wpm)___ 643(@300wpm)
“I love them.”
When Aleksei said this, my eyes shot to his.
“They can be funny,” he went on. “They dote on Aleece. And they’re just my brothers.”
“Okay,” I replied, not having any siblings, so not really getting it.
“That’s why it’s so disappointing, bissi, especially what I learned today.”
“Because they can be better?”
“No, because they never will.”
Oh gods.
“Also, they just get worse,” he carried on. “Today, with what we learned, the worst of all. I can’t even wrap my head around doing that to anyone. He should be facing charges, but instead, Dad will pay the female off, and it’ll all go away. And learning that after finding you’d been drugged against your will was bad timing, but even if that hadn’t happened to you, I’d be livid. Making it worse, it won’t stop. They never learn, and they’re not stupid. They can. They simply refuse to. And since Dad makes it so there are no consequences to their actions, they have no reason to try.”
I had to bury how I felt that Timothee would get away with what he’d done. I just had to hope that the payoff was worthwhile for the female.
And I didn’t have time to think too long on it.
I had to stay here with Aleksei.
“I’m sorry, honey,” I whispered.
“I am too.”
“With the bullying when you were younger, didn’t your parents intervene?” I queried.
“At first, Mom didn’t because she thought it built character. The length of time it went on, and how unrelenting it was, she eventually tried to put a stop to it. Dad was adamant she not get involved, saying, ‘Boys will be boys, we have to let them be boys.’”
King Fillion seemed to be a dab hand at platitudes.
“Are you close with Aleece?” I asked.
A fond smile hit his beautiful mouth. “Yes.”
I was glad he had that.
And Sirk.
And now…me.
“What about your parents? Are you close with them?” I asked.
“There’s love, it’s remote. Duty is in the way.”
I nodded.
“My father is proud of me, and he shows it. My mother’s expectations are high, and she has no problem voicing them.”
Hmm.
Not sure what to think of that.
“We’re not a normal family,” he finished.
“Who is?” I asked in an effort to make him feel better.
“I suppose that’s a good question.” He bit off the tip of a stalk of asparagus, chewed it, swallowed it, and asked, “And yours?”
Blast.
It was my turn.
Okay.
We were here.
Get it done and over with.
“They’re just…”
I looked down at my plate.
Forked into my potato.
Ate the bite (really, so yum, even in the middle of discussing all this garbage).
Pulled in a deep breath.
And looked to Aleksei.
“Bitter. Dad found his mate. I don’t know how it happened, but he didn’t have her long before she died. He married Mom, who…again, I don’t know. I think maybe she was too lazy to quest for her mate. Whatever the reason, she took him on, but I have no idea why. She didn’t want him either. There was no love in our house. Not them for each other. Not them for me.”
“And this translated to physical abuse?”
I pulled my shoulders forward, then released them. “Dad’s just mad at the world. Maybe it’s because he found and lost his mate so young. But for him, it’s everything. Taxes are too high. His boss is too demanding. Mom doesn’t fold his underwear right.”
“He could fold it himself,” Aleksei remarked.
I ate an asparagus crown. Fortunately, it too was yummy enough to cut through the ash in my mouth.
“Yeah,” I replied. “She’s told him that. Repeatedly. Shouted it even.”
“Darling.”
I looked from my plate to him and got into the tough stuff.
“The wrist thing, she was just being rough with me. Impatient. It wasn’t good it happened, but it was an accident. She was actually kinda horrified she did it, though she was more horrified what people would think about it than upset at the fact she broke her child’s bone. The ribs. Well, that was something else. Truly, he didn’t often get physical. Mostly it was an icy-coldness, disinterest. But even though the times were rare, it would get physical. And that time, with the ribs, obviously, it was really bad.”
“This seems very…” He struggled for a word for so long, he didn’t find one.
But I had it for him.
“Matter of fact. Like you were this morning, when we talked after our so-not-fun, inter-family mingling.”
“What I’m dealing with is a scar left from my family’s dynamic far less deep than what you have.”
I shook my head. “It isn’t about comparing scars. Deciding who had it worse. Doing that diminishes the fact you didn’t have it that great either.”
“Agreed,” he returned. “With the caveat that not recognizing how much worse you had it is a form of diminishing how bad it was for you. And that can hinder finding effective ways of healing from it.”
He had me there.