Wild Hunger (The Phoenix Pack, #7)(13)
Trick ground his teeth against the urge to curse. The idea that she’d grown up believing none of them wanted her pissed him the fuck off. His wolf pushed closer to Trick’s skin, wanting to be near her, urging Trick to reach out and touch her. Trick didn’t move, but he kept his gaze on her. He couldn’t not look at her.
“I can see why your grandparents would rather you believed something like that,” said Lydia, though it was clear that she wasn’t at all happy about it. “Well, Christopher was no lone shifter. We all once belonged to the Bjorn Pack. It later split, and a bunch of us left to form the Phoenix Pack.”
Well, that answered the question of which pack Lydia belonged to, Frankie thought. She decided not to mention that she’d done some research. She also decided to ignore that Trick was staring at her, his gaze focused and unblinking like that of a predator.
“He met your mother at a karaoke bar,” Lydia continued. “She was with some friends. He said he fell hard at just the sound of her voice. They didn’t realize they were true mates straightaway. I have lots of pictures of them together, but I didn’t bring them with me—I didn’t want to overwhelm you. To be honest, I wasn’t expecting you to come. I was just hoping like crazy that you would.”
“Why the sudden interest in me?” Frankie asked. “I can understand why your mother would want to say her goodbyes before she passes, but I don’t get why you yourself seem so interested. You’ve been out of my life for a very long time.”
“Not by choice,” Lydia firmly stated. “We tried to have contact with you. Tried long and hard. Your grandparents wanted us out of your life, and they made it happen.”
Frankie wished she could deny that they’d do such a thing, but of course they would have done it. She’d seen how much they hated Christopher, and they weren’t the type of people who compromised. “You could have come to me when I was old enough to decide for myself if I wanted to see you.”
“I was worried that you’d hate us the way your grandparents do. It was more comfortable to not know. But my father, Alfie, died of a heart attack recently—it was very sudden. My mother, Iris, has been deteriorating ever since. Mates usually don’t survive long without the other. She wants to see you just once. Of course, she’d love more, love to know you, but she doesn’t expect anything of you.”
“Why did he kill my mother?”
Lydia swallowed. “I don’t know. Christopher adored Caroline. He really did. What happened shocked everyone.”
“Was he on drugs?”
“Drugs? No. But a human reporter started that rumor. Another claimed he had to have been mentally ill. Both were wrong. Christopher wasn’t suicidal either.” Lydia sighed. “I really wish I could tell you why he did it, but I just don’t know. The only person who was there that night was you, but you weren’t what anyone could really consider a witness.”
“But you wanted me to say something that would vindicate him.” Frankie’s tone dared her to deny it, and Lydia looked . . . hurt.
“No one ever tried to brainwash you into believing or disbelieving anything. Our main concern was you—you were traumatized, you needed help and family.”
“And yet none of you were there.”
“We would have been if it were possible.”
Knowing it was unreasonable to snap at Lydia for something that was beyond her control, Frankie sighed. “I’m not mad at you for not being around.” Just disappointed and a little hurt. “And I don’t blame you for what your brother did. Maybe that’s because I haven’t quite digested it yet. But I just found out yesterday that much of what I grew up believing was a lie. I wouldn’t have thought my grandparents and uncle would lie to me like that, but they did. So I’m real wary on what and who I can believe right now.”
Lydia slowly nodded. “Understandable. We’ll probably never know what happened that night. But if you want to learn about your father, about the other half of your family and your pack mates, you have that chance now. I’m not going to put you on the spot and ask you to make that decision here and now. That wouldn’t be fair.”
Lydia pulled a pen out of her purse and scribbled on a napkin. She then slid it across the table. “Here’s my number. If you can find it in you to come, just call and we can arrange something.” With what looked like extreme reluctance, Lydia rose. “Bye, Frankie. I really hope you call.”
On guard, Ryan took the lead as he, Lydia, and Cam crossed to the door. Trick lingered and twisted slightly in his seat to face Frankie as he asked, “You all right?”
Frankie sighed, resting her elbows on the table. “Fine.”
Bullshit. Trick guessed she was probably feeling let down by both sides of her family—one side for deceiving her, and the other side for not being around. Helpless against the need to comfort her, Trick rested a hand on her nape and gave it a little squeeze. “You have every right to be mad at the pack—don’t say you’re not, of course you are. We should have been there for you every step of the way. We weren’t. But we’re here now. We want to know you. You’re ours.”
She frowned at the possessive statement, though a part of her liked the sense of belonging that it brought her. A part of her also liked the proprietary edge to his touch. Nonetheless, Frankie shifted in her seat, making his hand fall away. “I was born into the Bjorn Pack, not the Phoenix Pack.”