Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 60198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 301(@200wpm)___ 241(@250wpm)___ 201(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 301(@200wpm)___ 241(@250wpm)___ 201(@300wpm)
“You skinned a deer for the first time when you were four years old,” I remind him. “You don’t need a grown man to get you a juice.”
“I like it when he gets me juice,” Connor replies.
Kids are simply won over.
“Stop serving my brother like he’s a little king,” I tell Baldwin. “I won’t ask you twice.”
“Baldwin, can I have another PB&J, please?”
Baldwin looks like he is about to short-circuit. He’s caught between two different sets of orders. One comes from the young master he has been told to attend to by the alpha, and one comes from me, the forest witch who appeared out of nowhere and started telling him everything he is doing is wrong.
He makes his decision.
It’s the wrong one.
“I swear to god, Baldwin. That sandwich better be for you,” I growl as he reaches for the peanut butter.
The butler has the fucking audacity to ignore me. Another significant mistake he will not soon recover from.
I pick up a knife and stab it into the counter, right between the butler’s fingers. It sticks into the wood top in an intimidating manner. The butler stops making the sandwich, pivots on his heel, and glides out of the room without another look at me.
“Why did you ruin that?” Connor’s voice hits my ears in a high-pitched whine that he used to use when he was very small, and hasn’t used in a really long time.
“I didn’t ruin anything. You’ve still got the food.”
“It doesn’t taste the same when I make it. It tastes better when someone else does,” he pouts obnoxiously.
It is amazing how quickly a kid can be spoiled.
Before I can respond, Karl strolls into the kitchen with Baldwin as his shadow.
“What’s going on here?”
“Ellie won’t let me eat anything,” Connor says, betraying me instantly with the kind of drama I know I taught him. How dare he use it against me.
“Fine. Have your sammies made by a man,” I say. “But don’t come crying to me when you can’t remember how to make them yourself.”
“Ellie? Can I talk to you?” Karl snatches me out of the kitchen in the least possible aggressive way while still making it impossible for me to get away.
“What’s going on?” He asks me the question again. “Really. Because I know you didn’t nearly remove a finger from the butler for making your brother some food.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because you’re a lot of things, but irrational is not one of them.”
“I’m not irrational. He doesn’t need to be served like he’s a little prince. He’s already getting too used to this.”
“Are you worried about how used to this he is, or how used to this you might get?”
“Don’t psychoanalyze me,” I snap. “I never gave permission for any of this.”
“You weren’t around,” he reminds me. “You were busy torturing a man you could easily just have killed. You disappeared into a swamp to be evil. I’m not going to apologize for taking care of your brothers, or how I did it. The boy deserves some care.”
Those are fighting words.
“I raised Connor myself. Since he was a baby. I got him everything he needed. Now you’re telling me I didn’t do enough?”
“Baby,” Karl says, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “You did more than enough. You did everything. And now it’s time to let others do something too. It’s not an insult for someone else to help. When you have the baby, you’ll need help then too, and you’re going to take it.”
I don’t know what to say to that. He’s being so nice, but he’s also making me feel bad by pointing out some of the ways I’m being less than perfect. I never knew I was so sensitive about the boys. When we lived in the woods, things like this never came up.
“Here’s what you’re going to do,” he says, tipping my head up so I have to look at him.
“You’re going to go clean up, you’re going to pick something clean to wear out of the wardrobe I got for you, and…”
“What happened to you? What happened to the man who stood in the middle of pitched battle like he didn’t care about it at all? What happened to the guy who rescued me from the water when I almost drowned? Or who beat up like six dozen construction workers for me?”
“He’s standing in front of you. He’s growing up. He’s seeing what your life took from you, and he’s finding ways to give it back. Now go have a fucking shower, before I rip those dirty clothes off you and put you in the bath myself.”
I slink away, feeling oddly comforted as well as chastised.
As I go to the bathroom, I realize that I have a perspective problem. I did go to the swamp with the asshole who tried to destroy me and yes, I kept him alive for a few days longer than was really necessary, but I never considered any of what I was doing as being selfish. And I really never thought Karl, of all fucking people, would be the one to point it out.