Six

Blake’s Pov

Tension pulled my body into a tight little ball as soon as I heard that, and I was already wondering if the woman was someone who probably baked pies from scratch and silently judged girls like me before they've even gotten to know me.

“Relax,” Ridge said to me, like relaxing was something I could just flip on like a damn light switch.

I gave him a dry look with a shake of my head and his lip twitched.

I heard the soft shuffle of footsteps, the faint scent of something floral; soap and lavender and a life that probably never brushed up against anything dirty or broken like me.

And then she appeared in the doorway.

She didn’t look like I expected, she didn’t look cruel. She looked… like a mom. She was effortlessly pretty, in that put-together without even trying way. Her hair was tied back loosely. Her eyes sharp but not unkind.

Then her gaze landed on me, and I braced for it, every muscle in my body wound so tight I thought I might snap.

But she smiled, at me. “What the heck?” I thought as I looked right back at her.

She was really smiling, soft, and not just the tight ones you gave out of courtesy, the real smile, all teeth and grace. It was like I hadn’t spent the last twenty seven years of my life convincing myself I wasn’t worth being smiled at.

“Oh…” she breathed, her voice touched with something like surprise… like I was unexpected but not unwelcome. “And you must be Blake.”

I cleared my throat. “Yeah,” I said, because I didn’t know how to say Don’t get used to me.

Ridge had stood up to welcome his mother, but he stood standing, watching us both like a man stuck between a hurricane and a wildfire.

His mother stepped closer to me, too close.

“I’m Elaine,” she said, looking at me like she was trying to study me. I haven’t met her personally like this before, buy I knew who she was, I knew of her, and the whole damn town know who she was.

I half-expected her to offer me a clean dish rag to wipe myself down with… some polite way of scrubbing off the dirt of me being me. But she didn’t, and instead, she pulled out a chair to sit right beside me.

“Oh, you poor thing. I heard you’ve been through hell. Anyone with eyes can see you’re nothing like him.” she said, and I knew she was talking about my father.

I blinked, caught completely off guard because what the hell was I supposed to say to that?

“Thanks for noticing I’m not a serial killer?” should I have said that?

My throat worked around the knot that formed there anyway. “Uh… yeah. I'm glad you see me,” I mumbled, because sarcasm was easier than choking on emotion. “Not many people do.”

But Elaine she just gave me this soft, knowing look. Like she had already read every jagged piece of me and didn’t feel the need to flinch.

“I’m glad you turned out all right,” she added, gently, like I was something lost that had finally been put in the right hands.

And maybe I should’ve hated how that made my chest ache… but I didn’t.

I just gave her a small nod. Quiet. Careful. Guard still very much in place. “Maybe you could tell all the townspeople for me, that I'm not my father, and leave me the heck alone.” I said, meaning for it to be a joke.

But she answered me seriously.

“Don't mind those people, they are just jealous of how strong you are, how much you've survived and how far you've come despite their stupid and continuous pushdown.” Elaine said, her eyes sparkling.

And my throat went tight again because God what the hell was happening to me? This shouldn't be happening. This woman shouldn't like me or even show me kindness like this.

After a while, I stood — the weight of the day finally catching up to me. “I’m just gonna… go to the bathroom.” I said and I guess out of habit or something, Elaine pointed down the hall.

“Second door on the left, sweetheart.” she said but I nodded anyways.

There it was again.

Sweetheart. Like it didn’t burn every time someone said it because I didn’t know how to hold onto things like that.

In the bathroom, I stared at myself in the mirror. My face looked weird, soft and ungrounded, like I was floating in something I couldn’t control.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe not all people saw my father when they looked at me.

I sighed and washed my face, then I grabbed the towel I had left there earlier to dry my face, before stepping out quietly.

The house was warm.

It smelled like cedar and lemon and safety. But as I reached the kitchen… just steps away, I heard my name.

It was Elaine’s voice, so I slowed down.

“She’s sweet, Ridge,” she whispered. “I can see that clear as day.” she said and for some weird reason, my breath caught.

“She’s brave. And kind. And Lord knows she’s been through enough.”

At that, my heart squeezed, but then it shattered. Because the next words came like tiny, precise cuts.

“But she doesn’t belong here.”

Silence.

Ridge didn’t argue. Or at least, not right away. Then. “She’s mine,” he said roughly.

And that should’ve made me feel something, but it didn’t.

Not when his mother sighed; soft and heartbroken. “That’s the problem,” she whispered. “She’s human. The pack won’t accept her. The Elders won’t stand for it. And even if they did… what kind of life is that for her? Always on the outside. Always vulnerable.”

Another pause.

And then the knife twisted.

“You’re going to have to reject her, Ridge. Before this becomes something none of us can undo.”

What was that all about? Rejecting me? Not befitting their world? Was I a candidate for something I didn't know about?

I stepped into that kitchen doorway, every inch of me ice and bone and bruised pride.

Elaine turned first… startled. Her hand pressed to her chest, and I could see the regret already blooming in her eyes.

Ridge turned after that with his jaw clenched and his shoulders went stiff.

I watched them for a moment, looking from Elaine to Ridge, then I said. “What are you talking about?”