Hudson’s eyes are going wider and wider with each word that I shout at him, and he looks absolutely devastated. But I don’t actually care right now. I’ve been devastated for months. He can handle it for five damn minutes.
“Even before that, things weren’t exactly rosy, were they? People tried to kill me left and right, all because they were afraid of you! So there I am, mated to a vampire—a vampire—when I didn’t even know they existed two weeks before that. And that’s great, actually. He’s wonderful and kind and I love him and yay for us.
“But I don’t even get to enjoy that, do I? No, of course not, because we’re barely recovered from Lia’s attack when you show up out of nowhere and try to murder my mate. So I step in and save him and now I’m locked up with you somewhere for three and a half months. Three and a half months, mind you, that I can’t even fucking remember.”
My hair has fallen in my face, so I pause in my diatribe just long enough to shove my ridiculous, out-of-control curls away and try to ignore this additional thing I can’t tame.
“And then you do what you do. Body snatch me and turn me into an attempted murderer and a thief, leave me to wake up covered in someone’s blood.” I poke his chest with each of those words for emphasis. I will never get over that experience, and he needs to know it. “You live in my head for days without my permission, and then you think I’m crossing the line for freaking out when you take control of my body because you don’t like where I want to sit? Who the hell do you think you are? You may think you’re trying to protect me, but I’ve got to say, every single bad thing that’s happened to me in the last five months can be traced directly back to you.
“So instead of asking me to think for a minute, why don’t you think instead? Why don’t you listen for a minute and figure out why anything you have to say should matter to me at all?”
By the time I’m done, Hudson’s face is ashen. And now that I’ve gotten out all the bitterness and rage and pain inside me, I know that mine is, too. I hate losing my temper, hate yelling at people, because nothing good ever comes of it. And I’ve never in my whole life lost my temper like I just did. Is it any wonder my head now hurts like I’ve been on a week-long crying jag?
But at the same time, being nice wasn’t cutting it with him. He was going to keep rolling right over my objections like the steamroller he is, and I’m not about to let that happen. I won’t let him take control of my body ever again, and he needs to understand that.
“I don’t—” He breaks off. “I didn’t mean—” He breaks off again. “I’m sorry. I know it doesn’t mean anything to you and it probably shouldn’t, but I am sorry, Grace.”
“Don’t be sorry,” I answer with a sigh. “Or be sorry, it doesn’t really matter anymore. But don’t ever do that again. Ever.”
He starts to say something else, but I’m done listening. The assembly is about to start, and I don’t have any time or interest in listening to him say he’s sorry again or offer platitudes about why he did what he did…or worse, start back on me again about where I sit or who I should be afraid of.
I’m not naive, either, even though Hudson doesn’t seem to believe that. So I turn away from him and head back into the auditorium, but as I walk toward the center aisle, instead of turning left, I turn right…and walk up to the third-from-the-last row and sit down behind two huge dragon males. I can still see the stage, a little, and can still hear everything that’s being said, but I’m pretty sure it will be hard for anyone to see me.
With that thought in mind, I pull out my phone and text Jaxon a quick note, telling him I’m sitting alone near the back because I have a headache and might need to leave early.
It’s not a lie, considering my head is killing me, but I don’t want to get into everything in text right now, either. Plus, I don’t want him to come looking for me. I figure I can stay inconspicuous only if I’m not actually sitting next to their son.
“Thank you,” Hudson tells me as he slides into the seat next to me, but I don’t answer him. Not because I’m still angry but because I don’t have anything else to say to him. Not right now, and maybe not ever if he doesn’t get his act together.
I wait for him to say something obnoxious or try to argue with me, but he doesn’t say a word. Maybe he’s learning after all. I guess time will tell.