30. Gracie
Chapter 30
Gracie
D ad shrieked and whipped his hands up.
“Sharga,” Tark barked out. The bird flipped up into the air, hovering above my father, who reeled away, his arms shielding his face.
After giving my father a shrill meow, Sharga returned to us, landing on my shoulder now.
I stroked his spine. “Such a good bird.” He preened.
My mother shoved her door open, climbing out of the tilted car with a furious huff, her immaculate hair askew for the first time in, well, probably ever. Even after crashing into a ditch, she still managed to look like she belonged on the front of a tabloid with some dramatic “Shocking Family Feud” headline slapped above her photo.
Dad continued to glare at us. I didn’t care. I was too busy sucking in air. My legs shook, and my heart was thundering from the sheer insanity of it all.
Tark had ridden to my rescue—on Castree, no less—then jumped onto a moving car like some kind of rampaging action hero mixed with an avenging angel who looked damn good in chaps and cowboy boots. He'd lost his hat, and that was a shame.
And still, my mother had the audacity to wipe imaginary dust off her blouse, lift her chin, and sneer. “ That’s the male you’re throwing your future away for, an orc pretending to be a cowboy?”
Tark didn’t flinch, but I felt the tension rolling off him.
My hands curled into fists. “Go. Don’t come back here or else.”
“Go,” Sharga squawked.
Dad lifted his hand and approached us, though he stayed well away from Sharga. “Gracie, let’s be rational. You’ve had your fun. It’s time to go back to the real world.”
“This is my life now,” I snapped. “You don’t get to decide anything for me any longer.”
Mom tsked, crossing her arms on her chest. “Do you actually think you can play farmhand for a bunch of orcs? Where your biggest accomplishment is how many likes your latest post gets? Surely this won’t sustain you forever.”
“It’s perfect for me,” I said, my voice getting stronger by the second. “I’m good at it. And it’s mine. I built this career. Unlike the one you forced on me without ever once asking if it was what I wanted.”
Dad rubbed the bridge of his nose. “We won’t allow you to throw away everything we worked for.”
“ You worked for,” I said. “You signed the contracts, you controlled everything I wore, ate, and said. That was never my life, it was yours. I don’t want it anymore.”
Mom let out a sigh. “Well, that’s unfortunate. Because the world’s already watching, sweetheart.” Her sharp gaze landed on Tark standing by my side. “And him? Oh, our investigator had a lot to say about him, didn’t she?”
Something about the way she said it chilled me. “Investigator? You actually hired someone to snoop on me?”
She shrugged. “We needed to know what we were dealing with here. Tark, Tark, Tark. That's your name, right? Deleting things never erases them completely. Screenshots are forever and when someone's willing to pay, anything can be dug up on a person who, how can I say this? Who has an interesting past.”
Tark stiffened beside me while ice slid through my veins.
I took a step toward her, but she was already reaching into her bag, tugging out her pristine, ever-present designer covered phone. One tap. Two. And then?—
My breath stuttered as I heard it. My stomach dropped. The slow, rumbling start of Tark's voice echoed in my ears.
“The land stretches before us…”
“Allow me to read some of the comments. There are so many.” Mom cackled.
How dare she mock the male I loved.
“Wiiiide as the heaaaart can see,” Mom crooned, her voice painfully nasal.
Dad chuckled and deepened his tone as he leaned close to the screen, reading. “A skyyyy so loooonely it cries for companyyyy.”
Tears burned the back of my eyes. Tark didn’t move. He didn’t breathe.
I glanced up at him.
The male I adored stood still as a pillar, and I knew he was fortifying himself against an oncoming storm. I could see it, every awful feeling these words awakened inside him. Every insecurity rising through the cracks. “I wrote a poem and…” He wouldn't meet my gaze. “I recited it. I thought that maybe someone would like it. I should’ve told you. I’m sorry.”
Mom sneered and read from her phone. “Is he auditioning for some bad Orc-Western crossover? Yikes.” Her smirk rose higher. “Imagine thinking sunsets can save this level of awkward. Hashtag SecondhandEmbarrassment.” The chuckle she released raked down my spine. “Here's another one. 'Who let him post? No, seriously. Who?'“ Her gaze met mine. “Sweetie, really. Who is this male you've hooked up with? We'll get you counseling. Help you through this. You'll soon see we were right all along.”
Hell, no.
A rage like I’d never known roared to life inside me.
“Shut. Up,” I snapped.
Mom blinked, startled by the sheer violence in my tone. She recovered quickly, smirking. “Oh, come on. Even you have to admit how embarrassing it?—”
“You don’t get to laugh at him. Not now. Not ever.”
Dad raised an eyebrow. “Gracie, let’s not be dramatic.”
“And you don’t get to talk about drama. It's so entrenched in both of you it seeps from your pores.”
Their faces hardened, my mother’s lips pressing into a thin line, my father’s gaze darkening with the kind of barely restrained anger I recognized too well. But I didn’t shrink back this time. I wasn’t the girl they could dismiss or manipulate anymore.
“You’re cowards.” My voice shook with fury. “You both love tearing people down the second they don’t fit your perfect mold, but you don’t realize something. Even if you can control some people, you will never control me. I love Tark. I'm proud of him. And I'm staying here to make a new life in Lonesome Creek.”
For a moment, silence echoed around us.
Then my mother huffed, shaking her head. “Oh, sweetie--”
“No! I'm not your sweetie. I'm not your anything. I reject both of you. Get out of my life and don't ever come back. You hear me? If you don’t leave right now, I swear I'll call the police and have you arrested for kidnapping me. I'm sure that would go over well with the press.”
My father barked out a laugh. “No one would believe you.”
“They would.” My voice shook, but I refused to back down. “They love me, as you said. I'm quite good at crying.” Look at me now with tears streaming down my face. “I'll tell them you hurt me. Write an autobiography full of all the mean things you did to me through the years. Talk about how you've withheld love and kindness and even money. How do you think that would go over with your audience?”
“You wouldn't,” Mom gasped, stunned for the first time in her life.
“I have an audience of my own now. They like me. Not only that, but they also listen to me.”
Mom held out her hand, and it actually trembled. Was she finally seeing the results of how she'd treated me all these years? I didn't want reconciliation. I only wanted them to leave me alone.
Tark leaned close, kissing my cheek. “Mate,” he said with complete happiness. “You defended me.”
“Because I love you, and you're worth fighting for.”
“Mate,” he said again. “Do you trust me?”