Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 177

Chapter 177: Grace: Fake It Til You Make It

I collapse where I am, curling my knees to my chest. My throat still feels tight.

Caine must think I’m certifiably insane. What kind of person freaks out the way I did? And the moment he grabbed my wrist, I shut down completely.

It wasn’t like he hurt me. It wasn’t like he did anything wrong. He was trying to talk to me in private. Perfectly understandable.

And yet my entire body reacted like he was about to throw me into traffic.

I slide up the bed until I can bury my face in a pillow.

"I’m losing it."

It’s the only explanation.

I smack my forehead against the pillow once. Twice. Three times. Maybe if I hit hard enough, I can knock some sense back into myself.

Heat crawls up my neck and spreads across my cheeks. Caine was so worried and gentle, he’d even asked if I thought he would hurt me. Of course I don’t think he’ll hurt me.

Well—not anymore, anyway.

"You’re crazy. You’ve gone insane. You’ve lost your mind."

Each sentence is punctuated with a frustrated thump of my face into fluff.

The embarrassment is almost worse than the sudden spike of fear. Now, anyway.

My heartbeat gradually evens out, and the flush of heat going up my neck and prickling along my scalp recedes.

But the self-loathing stays.

It doesn’t make sense. Caine wasn’t yelling at me. He didn’t grab me with any real force. Sure, I couldn’t pull away easily, but it wouldn’t have been impossible.

Nothing about the situation should have triggered such a level of panic.

So why did it feel like—

feet. The smell of mold and dust. My throat hurts;

Please let me out.

I’ll be good.

I’ll

back where it belongs. Locked

was different. Completely different. It was a big mistake. My

it

Not the new one, who’s cruel and

to linger on the

helping a rogue wolf is not the same as

sigh before pushing myself up, forcing my sluggish, overwhelmed body

pillows is childish. Get over it and move

some semblance of order and cross my legs into the fake zen pose people do when they’re trying to convince themselves they’re

Me.

I’m people.

I’m trying to impress lifelong yoga-doers (not me), I suck in a

out of this horrible,

be shameless and pretend

won’t say

pretend I’m not totally insane and apparently prone

wasn’t

zen I’m supposed to be getting from this is clearly

heels of my hands against my eyes, watching the colorful shapes bounce around behind my eyelids. Focusing

Okay.

meltdown when her boyfriend dragged her to a private room to discuss bringing an unauthorized cat into

face, but my cheeks ache almost immediately. I probably look

off the bed, I approach the dresser mirror, leaning

to play a haunted doll. The reddened eyes from almost

on, Grace. You’ve faked being okay a thousand times.

my hands out and

Take two.

something genuinely pleasant: Bun’s

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