Page 129 of His White Moonlight
* * *
I wokewith a gasp and struggled to sit up.The arms caging me from behind didn’t relent, though.They held me against Bennett’s hot chest.His breaths were coming as fast as mine.
“Tell me who hurt you,” he pleaded.“Give me names.”
I knew why he wanted them and what he’d do.But it wasn’t his place to right the wrongs done to me by others.Especially not when he’d put me there in the first place.
“There’s only one name.”
“Tell me.”
“Bennett Wulf.”
He growled and ducked his head so his exhales warmed my neck.
“Please, Wrenly.”
He had no right to think he could make up for what had happened by going after the women in that school.First, he needed to deal with the source of the problem.Himself.
“Bennett Wulf,” I repeated.“Now get out of my room.”
“Why are you protecting them?”
“I’m not.I’m just choosing which of the people who hurt me should pay first.Now, are you leaving or am I?”
He released me and got out of bed.“Tomorrow, I want names.”
“And I want memories of a better childhood than what I got and a family that actually treated me like a human and not a ready-made mate for their son.Looks like neither of us can have what we want.”
The soft snick of the door closing answered me.
* * *
Bennett was waitingin the hallway when I opened the door the next morning, which wasn’t a surprise.Not after what he’d said last night.His gaze traveled the length of me, noting I was showered and dressed for the day.
The bandages were no longer necessary, and I was finally free of bruises.At least, outside ones.I felt battered on the inside.
“Did Grandma leave?”I asked.
“She’s waiting for you at the table.There’s a breakfast burrito for you.”
I’d started walking when he said she was downstairs, but I hurried my pace when he said what was waiting for breakfast.At school, we’d had all sorts of made-to-order options.Yogurt parfaits, fruit plates, oatmeal with a dozen different add-ins, toast with cream cheese and smoked salmon, and an occasional culinary special.Never anything fried or anything you’d eat with your hands like a burrito.
My thoughts were on food and not people, which is why I skidded to a stop when I saw Mom and Dad at the table with Grandma.
While I hadn’t anticipated their presence, it wasn’t entirely unwelcome.I’d done a lot of thinking after Bennett left last night and acknowledged a few things to myself.
Yes, my life at school had been hell.However, some of that hell had been self-inflicted.I’d been angry and had purposely provoked the wrong people.But most importantly, I hadn’t spoken up about what was happening.Not to them, and not to the staff.Had I done so, things wouldn’t have gotten out of hand.
Was I taking on all the blame?No.But it was a bit ridiculous for me to think Mom and Dad should know things they hadn’t been told.Their fault in all of this was notlisteningwhen I’d said I hated school andtellingme to keep trying instead of asking why.
Rather than turning around and walking away from a confrontation I wasn’t yet ready to have, I just stood there and waited.
Mom stood, her eyes watering.
“Wrenly.Please.”
“Please what?”I asked.
