Romance: My Bear Boss: BBW Paranormal Shapeshifter Romance (BBW Shifter Romance, Paranormal Shifter Romance) Read Online Free Page B
silence before hours passed and the matter was all but gone. Ingrid’s mother had told her specifically to stay inside and not interfere, and obedient, Ingrid did as she was told.
The event concerned some of her neighbors. A man and a woman whose screams often woke up their family in the middle of the night. Some people just fight a lot, her mother had explained, even though it had become a nuisance. It had escalated that day, to the point where their screams took them outside the house and the sound of shattering glass and wood followed hard enough to spark alarm.
The man had struck the woman hard enough that she bled. This Ingrid has seen through the window. She may have been ordered to stay inside, but she couldn’t help her curiosity to see what was going on. She had peered out the curtains and pressed her nose flush against the cool glass to see a police officer pull the woman away by her arms, blood poured from her forehead and down her face, and she struggled and screamed herself hoarse.
Ingrid could never forget the sight of so much blood, the wild feral look in the woman’s face as she shouted at the man. The man was eventually handcuffed, dragged away, and the lights flashed and faded away. Not long after, her mother returned through the door of their house, looking somber and exhausted.
Ingrid had approached her with slow caution, wide eyed and hoping for answers she knew she might not receive.
When she had meekly mumbled out a small, “Mommy?” her mother glanced at her with a soft smile before crouching down and pulling the young girl into her arms.
“There are always two sides of a story, Ingrid,” her mother had said into her ear after a long while. Ingrid was confused but listened anyway.
“Remember that, alright, sweetheart? There are always two sides of a story… you must never judge or take sides until you’re sure you know both sides of the story.”
Why her mother had said that, Ingrid didn’t know and she never really found out.
Years later, the event had become a simple recount of something common that occurred where they lived and Ingrid moved on with her life.
Yet she never forgot her mother’s words and as she grew, she was able to understand what her mother had meant with her words and the lesson she was trying to teach.
The words had shaped Ingrid for most of her adolescent life, allowed her to enter adulthood with an understanding mind. She wasn’t fond of confrontation and because of her desire to find out both sides to stories told, Ingrid became specialized as a small town advocate for wrongfully imprisoned people.
She was the youngest officer in the small town to become such a professional. Unfortunately, there was only so much idealism could get you in life and Ingrid soon discovered the hard way, that sometimes getting both sides of a story wasn’t enough.
At first, she had enjoyed being able to help people, assist in any way possible. But there was a difference between helping someone, and swaying that person’s favor. Opinions once sealed in stone were the hardest to break and it didn’t matter how much evidence there was to prove someone’s innocence.
Once a side of the story leaked out and first impressions set, people picked sides and stuck to them with a frightening resolve that had left Ingrid locking her door at night and staying up until the early hours of the morning.
She had only done her job…
That wouldn’t be enough, it seemed.
Soon, it became almost impossible to walk around without having someone throw you a scathing look for helping a man walk out of jail. Even her own co-workers hated her, or so she believed.
There was only one of them… her name was Linda. She seemed to be the only one who really cared.
“You know,” Linda had said one afternoon at the firm.
“You should disappear…”
Ingrid blinked up at her startled. The blonde shook her head fervently, wiping away some juice from her lip.
She placed her can of orange tang
The event concerned some of her neighbors. A man and a woman whose screams often woke up their family in the middle of the night. Some people just fight a lot, her mother had explained, even though it had become a nuisance. It had escalated that day, to the point where their screams took them outside the house and the sound of shattering glass and wood followed hard enough to spark alarm.
The man had struck the woman hard enough that she bled. This Ingrid has seen through the window. She may have been ordered to stay inside, but she couldn’t help her curiosity to see what was going on. She had peered out the curtains and pressed her nose flush against the cool glass to see a police officer pull the woman away by her arms, blood poured from her forehead and down her face, and she struggled and screamed herself hoarse.
Ingrid could never forget the sight of so much blood, the wild feral look in the woman’s face as she shouted at the man. The man was eventually handcuffed, dragged away, and the lights flashed and faded away. Not long after, her mother returned through the door of their house, looking somber and exhausted.
Ingrid had approached her with slow caution, wide eyed and hoping for answers she knew she might not receive.
When she had meekly mumbled out a small, “Mommy?” her mother glanced at her with a soft smile before crouching down and pulling the young girl into her arms.
“There are always two sides of a story, Ingrid,” her mother had said into her ear after a long while. Ingrid was confused but listened anyway.
“Remember that, alright, sweetheart? There are always two sides of a story… you must never judge or take sides until you’re sure you know both sides of the story.”
Why her mother had said that, Ingrid didn’t know and she never really found out.
Years later, the event had become a simple recount of something common that occurred where they lived and Ingrid moved on with her life.
Yet she never forgot her mother’s words and as she grew, she was able to understand what her mother had meant with her words and the lesson she was trying to teach.
The words had shaped Ingrid for most of her adolescent life, allowed her to enter adulthood with an understanding mind. She wasn’t fond of confrontation and because of her desire to find out both sides to stories told, Ingrid became specialized as a small town advocate for wrongfully imprisoned people.
She was the youngest officer in the small town to become such a professional. Unfortunately, there was only so much idealism could get you in life and Ingrid soon discovered the hard way, that sometimes getting both sides of a story wasn’t enough.
At first, she had enjoyed being able to help people, assist in any way possible. But there was a difference between helping someone, and swaying that person’s favor. Opinions once sealed in stone were the hardest to break and it didn’t matter how much evidence there was to prove someone’s innocence.
Once a side of the story leaked out and first impressions set, people picked sides and stuck to them with a frightening resolve that had left Ingrid locking her door at night and staying up until the early hours of the morning.
She had only done her job…
That wouldn’t be enough, it seemed.
Soon, it became almost impossible to walk around without having someone throw you a scathing look for helping a man walk out of jail. Even her own co-workers hated her, or so she believed.
There was only one of them… her name was Linda. She seemed to be the only one who really cared.
“You know,” Linda had said one afternoon at the firm.
“You should disappear…”
Ingrid blinked up at her startled. The blonde shook her head fervently, wiping away some juice from her lip.
She placed her can of orange tang
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