The sun woke me because it was streaming in from the wrong direction. The uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach hadn’t really gone away, and as I lay there, I couldn’t help going over everything that had happened the night before. The more I thought about it, the worse I felt.
The way I had acted. Crying? My father would have beaten me bloody if he’d seen that, which is why I’d never cried in front of him. But Trey hadn’t seemed to mind. In fact, he’d taken me into his arms and comforted me. I’d needed that more than I could articulate. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d gotten physical comfort when I’d been hurting. Probably not since I was a toddler.
Because even as a young child, my father had been determined to make me a strong alpha. But his idea of what was strong wasn’t right
