Chapter 30: Trey: Throw A Tantrum

TREY

Sadie turns her head slightly. "What?"

"You’ve probably heard it before, but yeah." I glance at her. "I’m proud of you."

The shock on her face would almost be funny if her eyes weren’t still glossy, her lips still trembling.

"I’m serious." I look back at the road. "I could tell you nobody should’ve treated you like that, Omega or not but you already know that, and it’s probably not what you need to hear right now. Even the worst guy I know isn’t stupid enough to think that was okay."

I adjust my grip on the wheel.

"So instead, I’ll just say it straight. I’m proud of you. We don’t know much about each other yet, but where you started, how you started, that’s not the end of it. Look what you made of yourself anyway."

A tear slips down her cheek.

"You have a perfect GPA. That shit is hard. I know like three people with one and you’re all of those people."

Her mouth twitches. I take that as a win and keep going.

"And you’re kind." I shake my head. "I definitely wouldn’t be if I went through half the shit you just told me. I’d be an absolute nightmare, miserable to everyone, all the time."

"You already are," she murmurs.

I cock a brow at her and the smallest curve stretches across her lips, even through the tears.

"See? There she is."

She wipes her face again.

"My point is, you’re excellent. You’re not at the bottom." I shift my hand on the wheel. "I picked you over more than a hundred submissions I got, so doesn’t that count for something? Hell, I’m an Alpha. We’re very picky, aren’t we?"

Her lips curve a little more as she fights a chuckle. "That’s just you."

"Really?"

She nods, wiping another tear from her cheek. "Yes. You employing me isn’t some objective measure that I’m good at anything."

"I don’t see it that way."

I keep my eyes on the road, mostly because I’m not sure I want to see her face for this part.

"We’ve been roommates a couple days and you’ve already made me dinner. You’re my brother’s ex, and there’s been zero weird about it, which, trust me, is not normal. You’re sharp. Resourceful. Better than every girl who’s ever tried getting my attention on campus, and coming from me, that’s a compliment."

She rolls her eyes, but she leans back against the seat anyway.

"You’ve been sick your whole life and you’re still gonna be valedictorian. That night in the woods, I don’t jump in for just anybody. I did it because there’s something about you. Bright. Like actual light." Trex urges me to say more. "I figured you wouldn’t tell me about your past but you did. Most people won’t. Reopening something like that takes more than most people have. I know I don’t. So whatever you think you are, Sadie, you’re not weak. You’re strong. Real strong."

She starts crying again, covering her face with her palm.

"Hey." I pat her shoulder. "Stop thinking it’s easier to hide the truth or believe a lie. Doesn’t matter how comfortable the lie’s gotten over the years. You need to know what you actually are, and what you actually deserve, starting now."

She doesn’t move her hand.

"Those people at the orphanage gave you shit over nothing. Locked a kid in a room because she cried too loud. That’s not something you owe them any more thought over, and it’s sure as hell not something you keep letting define you. So here’s what we’re doing. We get that wolf of yours out. We get you shifted. And then we go find whoever did this to you and make them regret it."

Before I think too hard about it, I reach across the console and take her hand.

She stills. Her eyes drop immediately to where I’m holding her before lifting back to my face.

Her skin is soft beneath my fingers, and I rub my thumb over hers slowly.

Sadie looks down again. Then at me. Then back at our hands.

"You..." She clears her throat. "You’re driving."

I glance at her. "Think I’m gonna crash because I’m holding you?"

"That’s..."

I bring her fingers towards my mouth before she can finish and press my lips to them.

She gasps and immediately tries to pull away but I tighten my grip enough to stop her.

"Trey," she whispers.

"My mum used to do this."

The resistance drains out of her.

I ease my grip slightly but don’t let go.

"She used to kiss my hand before telling me I was allowed to throw a tantrum when I was a kid." I rub my thumb over her knuckles. "I was so quiet and distant so she used to say every kid should throw a tantrum once in a while."

The strain around her mouth softens.

"So throw yours at me."

Her brows pull together.

"Every time you’re pissed, say whatever you want. If something gets to you, don’t sit there swallowing it until you look like you’re about to disappear into a fucking car window." I glance at her. "Say it. Do whatever you need to do to let it out. Can you do that?"

She bites down on her lip, staring at me like I’ve grown a second head.

Then she sniffles. "Since when are you emotional? You act like you can’t get more than two words out to anyone."

I smile.

Her free hand comes up, pointing at my face. "See? That. You’ve never done that before."

I tilt my head. "You want me to smile more often?"

She’s quiet for a second, then nods slowly. "You’re scary when you’re always frowning."

"Fine. Next smile’s yours when you shift."

Her jaw drops. "That’s — that’s too far."

"Then you better hurry up and shift."

She hisses at me and turns back to the window, but her hand stays exactly where it is, tucked under mine.

I don’t say anything about it. Just watch her for a second, and think — stupidly — that holding some girl’s hand shouldn’t feel like a win. But it does.

"Play some music," she says, not looking at me. "Or does this fancy car of yours not have any?"

"It’s a G-Wagon."

"That’s not an answer." She turns back toward me, pulling her hand free like she just remembered it was there. "Doesn’t something like this cost a fortune? It should at least have a sound system."

I shake my head. "Three hundred and thirty-five grand. And yes, Quiz Bowl. There’s music."