Sure, he'd been hurting me, too, but at some point, more hurt all around for everyone wasn't really going to fix anything. Whatever joy I got out of hurting him would be short-lived, if it lived at all.
Russ might still irritate the hell out of me, and I still wanted to bite him — but I couldn't hate him after all. Not anymore. I still wanted to bite him a few times, though. And no, not in a sexy way. In an "Ow, let go of my tail already!" way that he'd remember the next time he decided it was time to tease me or charm my parents or do something equally annoying.
"Darling." Mom put a hand on my arm, looking up at me with worried eyes that were sad and crinkling around the edges. "You seem unhappy. He's not — well, he's not doing something to make you unhappy, is he? I know you don't want me to ask you these sorts of questions. I know you're a grown man. But I worry about you sometimes. Are you...happy?"
I shook my head quickly. "I'm not happy, Mom. Everything's changing for me, and it's really hard. But—" I gulped. "He's not forcing me to do anything, either. I'm not having sex with him or anything like that. He just gets on my nerves a lot, and it's complicated. But nobody's doing anything like that. I'm an adult, and I know better. I wouldn't let them get away with it."
"Of course." Relief touched her features. She drew me into a gentle hug and sighed. "Of course you are. Sometimes it's hard to remember. You'll always be my little boy."
I hugged her back and squeezed my eyes shut. In that moment, I didn't mind at all.
––––––––
RUSS
Iwas walking around, admiring the well-landscaped area around their home, when Charlie's father caught up with me and fell into step. He had a purposefulness about him that made me pay attention. He took the time to point out a couple of things to me in a good-natured voice, but I waited for his real purpose.
Finally, he came out with it. "I hope you won't think I'm too old-fashioned if I ask what your intentions are towards my son."
I stared at Charlie's adoptive father. His words sounded almost jovial, but he didn't smell jovial. He'd liked me well enough when we met, I was certain he had, but there was something dark and dangerous about him now, hiding underneath his jovial act.
It reminded me of the way a wolf father got protecting his pups, like he would do absolutely anything, fight anyone in the world, rather than let them be hurt.
It shocked me a little. I hadn't known humans could feel so intensely about their children. Of course they could; it made sense. Even adult children, even adoptive children. So, why did it surprise me that a rich, adoptive parent could feel as strongly about his child as anyone else? Maybe it wasn't just my prejudices shining through; maybe it was because Charlie always seemed so lost and alone, abandoned, hurt. It was hard to believe he'd ever been loved enough by anyone but me.
Not that my love could reach him. He saw it as a complete and total insult, and that was probably never going to change. I pushed that bleak thought away and concentrated on making sense of this conversation.
"Well, I like him, sir," I said softly. "But the feeling isn't mutual."
He nodded, his lips pressing together in a hard line, his eyes like some kind of implacable stone. "I hope you'll respect that." The words didn't seem like they should sound quite so threatening, but they did. He might as well have said, "I'll see you dead before I let you hurt my boy, so keep that in mind."
It was more intimidating than I had expected, being threatened by a non-shifter twice my age. Perhaps because he was rich; more likely because he meant it so damned much.
"Don't worry, he's made his position pretty clear." I wanted to ask who had hurt Charlie, what had left him so raw and untrusting. It was an unspoken wound on this family, something beneath the surface that nobody mentioned aloud. Really, though, Charlie's dad wasn't going to tell me, a stranger about it.
Maybe I could get it out of Rosa later. She liked me, and she seemed a little more talkative than the others. I was certain Charlie would never tell me, and, frankly, I wasn't sure I should want him to. Did I want to make him relive something painful? No, of course not.
Maybe I should keep my curiosities to myself.
Mr. Davies was still watching me, waiting for the right words. "And I'll respect that," I added. I couldn't stop myself from adding, "I think we could be good together. I think we could really have something. But Charlie only wants what he can't have."
"I hope you'll explain that remark."
I wished I hadn't said it. I shrugged, my mouth turning down. "I guess — it's none of my business." I wanted to tell him. I wanted someone to know, even if I was being an jerk by letting Charlie's secrets out.
His father stared at me for a long, distrustful moment. Then he harrumphed softly. "I suppose Charlie will tell me, if he ever wants me to know," he said resignedly.
"He's really good at that, right?" I said, letting more bitterness into my tone than I should have. "Telling people stuff. Communicating."
"Charlie has his challenges, but he's my son, and I love him dearly. I won't let anyone hurt him if I can help it." The sadness in his eyes told me all too clearly that he hadn't been able to help it sometime in the past, and that he would probably never truly forgive himself for that.
I nodded slowly. "I'm glad he's got you guys," I admitted. "I thought nobody loved him. He's so sad all the time. I thought he was alone."
His father blinked hard a couple of times and looked away from me. "I wish—" he began, then stopped himself. He tried again to speak, and couldn't.
"Me, too," I said. "I wish he was happy, too."
His father nodded, slowly and sadly. "Is he still going to the counseling?"
