Page 51 of Taming of a Wolf

“What?” Kevin barks. “But he started it!”

Jace stays silent, arms folded and lower lip jutting out.

“I understand,” I say, trying to contain my frustration. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience this caused.”

“That’s it?” Mrs. Davidson sneers. “That boy should never be allowed to come back!” She side-eyes Anders. “Then again, with a father who looks likethat,it’s no wonder the boy’s a savage.”

A low snarl escapes Anders, making both the Davidsons jump. “That’s enough.”

I grip Jace’s arm. “Let’s go home.”

He rips his arm away and storms out into the hallway, his rejection like a blow to my chest. “Jace!” Anders and I pursue him into the hall, and Mr. Davidson and his fuming son are just behind us.

Anders rounds on Mr. Davidson. “Control your runt,” he growls, and Mr. Davidson blanches. “If he lays a hand on Jace again, there will be consequences.”

“Leave them alone,” I grumble. “They’re not worth it.” Anger simmering low in my gut, I follow Jace outside. As I walk, I take deep, steadying breaths. Getting mad at Jace won’t help the situation at all. He’s an empathetic kid, so he probably feels bad enough that his behavior has caused trouble for me.

Jace is already slouching in the back seat, arms wrapped around his chest and face hidden from view. I get in without a word and pull on my seat belt. Once Anders is buckled in, I drive us home, stealing glances at Jace in the mirror. Tears have dripped onto his shirt, and the sight makes my chest tighten.

Fuck. What a shitty day this has turned out to be. I’m dreading going upstairs when we park outside the apartment. All through the drive, I tried to think about what to do. Do I punish Jace? Is the suspension punishment enough? What do I say? I wish my parents were here to tell me what to do.

Once we’re upstairs, I turn to Jace. “Go to your room. I’ll be there in a moment.”

Jace throws his backpack on the floor and storms into his bedroom, slamming the door. Blowing out a breath, I go into the kitchen and pour a tall, cold glass of water. I drain the whole glass in a few gulps and try to gather my thoughts. I never got into fights as a kid, so I have no frame of reference to draw from.

“Did you fight a lot as a kid?” I ask Anders.

His mustache lifts in a smile. “Oh, aye.” He sounds proud of himself.

“And what did your parents do?”

“That depends. If I won, they were very proud. If I lost, they told me I brought shame on my ancestors and the family name.”

“Not sure that’s what Jace needs to hear right now…”

“Go easy on the lad. Hear his side of the story first.”

Right. That will make it easier to decide how to approach this. Girding myself, I knock on Jace’s door. When I don’t get a response, I ease it open just enough to peer inside. The lamp is on, and Jace is sitting on his bed with his knees to his chest, flipping through the pages of a book. The sour odor of anger still permeates from him, though.

Clearing my throat softly, I say, “Hey. Can we talk?”

Jace shrugs, white-knuckling the corners of his book.

Dropping onto the edge of his bed, I count the loose threads in the carpet, trying to piece together the perfect thing to say. My parents wouldn’t have had to try. They always knew how to calm us boys when we got upset. I’m nothing compared to them. Jace would be better off with anyone other than me.

Clearing the despair from my throat, I say, “Jace… can you tell me what happened?”

He doesn’t even look at me.

“Hey.” At a loss, I try and take the book away. “Jace. Talk to me.”

Jace slaps the book down on his bed. Man, where did he get all this attitude from? “Talk about what? I got into a fight. The end.”

My molars squeak together as I grind down. “No, it isn’t ‘the end.’ Stop being a pain. You owe me an explanation.”

“If you’re so sick of me, just drop me off at an orphanage,” Jace snaps.

“Tempting!” I bark back, way beyond talking now.

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