Page 72 of Whispers of Wisteria
I wanted to bang my head against the wall in frustration. “Why not?”
“Well…” He glowered at the wall. “It’s a long story, but I don’t associate with our grandfather.” He crossed his arms, and his features and body language closed off.
I waited for him to continue, but his mouth remained stubbornly shut.
“What happened…?”
“I’m sure you’ll meet him one day,” was Bryce’s short reply, not answering my question. “He might try to kill you.”
Right. It was no surprise that my paternal grandfather might try to kill me if he’d had the choice. I’d expect nothing less.
“It’ll be chaos when they learn about you,” Bryce said through clenched teeth. His fists were tight over his tense legs, and he sat stiff as a board. It seemed he was three seconds from running out of the room. “I hope he dies first.”
Okay…
I blinked at him, my hand falling back to my side. I remained uncertain how to react. I wasn’t even sure when I’d gotten used to Bryce’s stoic expressions and logically comfortingobservations, but this was certainly something I wasnotused to seeing.
So, he could hold a grudge and harbor deep loathing, too?
Amazing.
Bryce wasallegedlya trained warrior who could slay without remorse. He also could resist most poisons—though I hadn’t seen evidence of this, as he’d swooned during our first outing.
However, hewaswise. He, alone, understood me when I was in the asylum.
He’d even brought me an engagement cheeseburger—without disgusting toppings!
It was like he could read my mind. There was nothing worse than a burger ruined by pickle juice.
Other things made him worthy, none of which had anything to do with our tentative brother-sister relationship. But those were his most impressive qualifications.
There was already too much nepotism within this organization, but he was, I think, the most qualified.
“You’re my Er Bashou.” I pointed at him—I had decided for sure.
Bryce’s forehead wrinkled in confusion. “Um… I know?”
“And you’re going to go to Eric Richards’ house with me,” I told him.
“What are you talking about?” His expression shifted into something dark. His brows lowered as he responded in a low voice. “You’re not going there.”
I put my hands on my waist, barely resisting the urge to laugh. It wasn’t nearly as frightening to have this conversation with Bryce. “I’m going with Titus, Damen, and Uncle Gregory, whether you like it or not.”
“Uncle Gregory is okay with this?” His sage eyes darkened, but then he shook his head, seemingly unconcerned by the elder’s acceptance.
That’s what I was assuming, at least. Titus was the one who’d told me he was going.
“It doesn’t matter. I’m not allowing it.” Bryce had jumped up, stopping only a foot away from me. He also put his hands on his hips, arguing, “Your mental well-being is my responsibility. I can’t let you go back there.”
Instead of being outraged, I was almost touched by the flicker of concern in his eyes.
But he was wrong. My mental health was no one’s responsibility but my own.
Besides, “If you care so much about my feelings, why did you force me to go to the hospital?”
He straightened as his argument wavered, and I could tell he was considering his following words carefully.
I didn’t rush him. I wanted to hear his perspective.
