Rebel Roused (Untamed #5) by Jinsey Reese, Victoria Green Page B

how we can spin this,” my father said, turning to look at my mother.
    “Spin this? Are you fucking kidding me?” I sputtered for a moment, words failing me as outrage flooded my body. “I LOVE him. He is the love of my life. My fucking soul mate. Shouldn’t you want your daughter to marry the right guy , not just someone who comes from the right family ? Are you that self-absorbed and selfish? Isn’t my happiness important to you AT ALL?”
    “Of course it is.” My mother snapped, her words clipped and sharp. “Your happiness has always been important. We have done everything in our power to make you happy and you have never appreciated a single thing we did. We sent you to the right school, introduced you into the right circles, encouraged you to socialize with the right friends. We have paid for everything you ever needed and then some. And all you have ever done is complain. And I, for one, am tired of it, Reagan. Nothing we do is good enough for you. It never has been and it never will be.”
    “You didn’t do any of that for me,” I said. “You did it for you . Because you want me to have the right friends, to marry into the right family, to have the right career…according to what you think is right. Not according to how I feel. And those ‘right’ friends you introduced me to? One of them raped me. Which you covered up like it was some minor, bothersome blemish. And then when it was obvious I’d gotten—”
    “ENOUGH.” My father’s voice boomed through the small room. I was breathing heavy, glaring at them both. “We are not here to rehash the past.” I raised my eyebrows, and opened my mouth to speak, but he beat me to it. “What do you want from us, then, Reagan? If we’ve made your life so unhappy, what do you want from us now?”
    Just like that, all the fight flew out of me. My shoulders drooped, and I sighed.
    What did I want? Deep down I really just wanted them to love me. That was all I’d ever wanted from them. But that wasn’t ever going to happen, and they wouldn’t understand what I meant if I actually said those words anyway.
    So I just said, “I want you to let me live my life. Pretend that you approve of my choices, let me make my own mistakes, and support my right to do that. Let me be happy. If you refuse to do that, then I want you to get out of my life. For good. Forever.”
    My mother sniffed. My father simply nodded.
    “We will try to respect your wishes,” he said slowly.
    “Fine. Then start by giving me space.” I couldn’t let them into my life yet. I’d been burned by them one too many times. “I’ll call when I’m ready to see you again.” When and if , I couldn’t help but think.
    My father nodded toward the door. “Very well, Reagan. As you wish.”
    I followed them to the door, watching my mother wrinkle her nose again and wanting to strangle her.
    “How can you live in a place with no doorman at the very least?” she said. “There is no security here. Is this place safe?”
    I’d been asking myself that same question ever since I’d come home. Every sound set me on edge—especially when Dare was out. I didn’t open the door if I didn’t recognize the person knocking. I’d just clutch the baseball bat I kept nearby, ready to strike, my heart racing, my palms sweating, until the person went away.
    Only then could I breathe again.
    I felt the panic creep up at my mother’s words as she studied the door. “Are those locks strong enough?” she said. “How do you keep the riffraff out?”
    The door opened then, startling all three of us. My eyes darted for the bat—out of reach. But it was Dare. His eyes grazed over my parents, and landed on me, warm and worried. He knew how I was these days. I gave him a weak smile.
    “Oh.” My mother gave him a slow, scrutinizing onceover as she walked by, her mouth twisted in distaste, then paused in the doorway to turn and say, “I see you don’t.”

eleven

    B y the beginning of December, we’d