Thorne Princess(49)

You never made an honest attempt to get to know me. To help me. You never reassured me that I wasn’t a complete waste of space. You always planned things without me—vacations, moves, travel—inviting me to tag along like I was a family friend. Worst of all—you failed to protect me.

“He’s a jerk and a half,” I said instead. There was no point pleading my case to Mom and Dad. I’d tried a few times when I was a teen. They never got it.

“Oh, Bunny.” Mom clucked her tongue. “Tough love is exactly what the doctor has ordered.”

My cheeks were on fire. “There’s no love in his behavior toward me. He calls me Brat.”

My father chuckled. “I’ve been called everything under the sun. Words are just that—words.”

“Dad.” I closed my eyes, feeling my soul sagging with defeat. I was tired. So tired of my constant battle with my family. “He makes me really unhappy. Doesn’t that count for anything?”

It wasn’t the truth. Not in its entirety, anyway. Ransom fascinated and scared me. Worst of all, he attracted me, and I couldn’t allow for that to happen. Men were dangerous.

A thick blanket of silence fell over the room. For a brief moment, no one spoke. I studied my father intently. The way his fingers drummed over the desk. He was considering his answer. One of his best traits was to think before he spoke. Really think. Even if it left the person in front of him waiting.

My mother, by comparison, was a quick shooter. “If I’m allowed to be frank, Hallie, you’ve been causing us a lot of heartache and bad press. You had been utterly unmanageable, and with your sister’s wedding coming up, we simply cannot afford any slip-ups.”

Ah, this was about Hera. I should’ve known. Everything always boiled down to creating the perfect life for Hera and Craig. My lower lip curled around my upper one to stop myself from screaming.

“Mr. Lockwood is the highest rated bodyguard in North America. We wanted the very best for you.” Mother’s voice floated over my head, like a poisonous cloud of smoke. “I pray that when his post is over, you consider spending some time with us in Texas to mend our relationship. For now, you’re going to have to make do with him.”

I looked up, feeling my eyes burning with unshed tears. I spoke through gritted teeth. “You don’t love me, you tolerate me. Don’t think I don’t see the difference.”

My mother stood up. In this light, I could see every wrinkle in her face. She wore her age with pride. Deemed women who hid behind fillers and Botox tacky and uncultured.

“Don’t be ridiculous, of course we love you.” She brushed dog hair from her clothes, her words hollow and empty. “We’re crazy about you. You are our child, Bunny.”

“Your mother is right. Also, you can use one of the guestrooms.” My father stood up, on cue, to join my mother. “Dinner is at six, and we’ll be having company.”

He stared pointedly at my clothes. Fix yourself up, Sugar Pie. Please. For me.

At the door, my mother paused, her hand fluttering over the frame. “It’s good to have you back. I don’t always understand where you are coming from, but you always light up the room when you’re here.”

They left, leaving the door open. I could hear them picking up the conversation they’d left off before we entered the office. Skiing versus a sunny Christmas getaway. I couldn’t muster the energy to move an inch. I slacked there for a few moments, my gaze gliding over the walls. Pictures of my father hugging and shaking hands with other world leaders glared back at me.

I couldn’t stay here. Or maybe I could. Maybe I simply didn’t want to. Since no one gave two shits about what I wanted, it was time to do something for myself.

But I couldn’t even call an Uber. Ransom had canceled my credit card, which was attached to it. I fumbled for my phone in my pocket, about to call him. Then I stopped myself. No. Telling him I was coming back was admitting defeat. Better if I just showed up and told him I had a change of plans. Bonus points: he’d know I traveled unaccompanied, and possibly—hopefully—would have a heart attack as a result.

I picked up my phone and called Keller.

“Howdy partner,” he said in his most mocking Texan drawl impression. “How’s home treating you?”

“Terrible, as per usual.” I darted up from my chair, pacing. Dragging a hand over my forehead confirmed that, yes, I was sweating buckets. Maybe I was coming down with something. “I need you to call me an Uber. I’ll pay you back.”

“You want an Uber from Texas to California?” he asked, confused. “Ever seen the US map, sweetie?”

“No!” I flung my arms. “From my parents’ house outside of Dallas back to my hotel.”

“But…” I heard him hesitate. “Why can’t you do it?”

“Because, didn’t I tell you, Ransom Lockwood canceled my credit cards!”

“The bastard!” Keller sounded outraged. “And he left you to fend for yourself, ride-less?”

Not exactly. He’d insisted he stay here, until my mother sent him away. He’d probably predicted I didn’t have the stomach to spend an entire night here.

“It’s an absolute nightmare.” I put a hand to my collarbone, dodging his question. “I need your help.”