A Handful of Daffodils (Forgotten Series, #7)

Chapter Twelve

A week later

I didn’t really know what to think.

I hadn’t changed my behaviour, how I did things around the house, how many chores I had done. I did everything I was supposed too, how Brochan wanted them to be done. Nothing had changed on my end but he was… he was nicer. I didn’t know what that meant or why he was acting like he was and a part of me was bracing for when the trick would be revealed and he would yell at me again.

Since the day with my hair supplies and me finding them set out on the counter, his female’s things put away, he had seemed to pull back. I had noticed his drinking had slowed down, not stopped, I doubted it would with how much he must have hurt from losing his mate, but slowed down significantly. And then he attempted to have…conversations with me. Small things, asking about Maeve, talking about her development, asking me what was being made for meals, talking about various things that were absolutely mundane but baffled me when they came out of his mouth.

I didn’t understand what happened and it wasn’t my place to question a male. I couldn’t look at him and ask him what had changed, it wasn’t my place. If he believed it was necessary to tell me, he would. I had no position or reason to ask him anything about what he did or didn’t do or was doing. That hissing voice in my head made me want to flinch.

Worthless.

The word didn’t stop being true. I had been gone from my Father’s for two weeks and some nights that was the only thing that whispered in my head as I tried my hardest to fall asleep with the unfamiliar sounds of a house I didn’t really know. I had no worth, no value. I knew a female who had value could have asked him what happened, could ask him why. I couldn’t.

It was a hard weight to bear, the knowledge that the entirety of my life trying to show my father I had value, that I was an appropriate female of the pack, that I was dutiful and mindful and did not complain, had been a complete waste. It was hard to realize that he never saw my actions as something that added value. I had been tainted by the very situation of my birth and nothing could add value to me because of it.

I reminded myself every single time the thought came up that at least it was Brochan. He didn’t hit me, never physically hurt me. He yelled and would tell me to leave him alone or tell me I was a burden but he had never harmed me. It was better him than the Delta. I told myself the words again and again and again. But now he had changed and I didn’t know why and I had no ability to ask because it wasn’t my place. I existed underneath his roof as an unwanted burden, burdens didn’t get to ask questions.

Worthless

The word stung so hard that it was if I had been slapped and I closed my eyes as I willed the feeling away. I took a deep breath in before I exhaled slowly and opened my eyes. I scrubbed at the supper dishes, cleaning the spaghetti sauce and slightly hardened cheese off of them. Brochan had complimented the supper and it left me feeling more than a bit strange. I really didn’t like that he had changed. Before I knew what to expect but now I felt like I was walking in an active mine field, not knowing if the ground would blow up in my face if I moved even a half inch.

There was an uncertainty now that I did not like. Before it was easy, he didn’t want me around and he didn’t like me in his house but I had been forced onto him. Now? There was nothing I could rely on other than waiting for the other shoe to drop and him to blow up on me. I didn’t want to feel like that but I couldn’t help it.