“Mhhh. I see.” He claps a hand on my shoulder, wearing a rueful smile that reminds me enough of Dad to make my chest hurt. Dad would have the answers. He always did.
“Declan banished her family yesterday,” I explain before dumping the entire story on him. Her bruises. What they put her through. What her dad did.
He sinks into his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose like his head hurts before running both hands through dark hair that’s starting to go silver at the temples. “I had no idea. And all this time… I’ve treated that family,” he growls. “No wonder they never brought her in for any reason. They’d want to hide her wounds.”
“She’s been hurt for so long.” There’s a throb of emotion under my words. “Bruises run up and down her ribs, across her back. They beat her every day, or close to it. And the way she screams in her sleep…” I can’t go on. It’s too much. My mate is in agony, and I only contributed to it.
Sympathy radiates from him when he asks, “What can I do to help?”
“I was hoping you could give me something to help her with the pain until her wounds heal.”
Nodding slowly, he stands, pulling a keyring from his pocket. “I have an ointment that will go a long way toward speeding the healing process. But it can only do so much.” As he speaks, he unlocks a cabinet and pulls out a small tube which he hands over.
“What do you mean?”
Again, he touches my shoulder. “The trauma you described will take much more than an ointment. It will take time.”
Time. I have all the time in the world. I can wait—and while I do, I can listen and understand. I can show her there’s more to life than what she’s suffered.
It’s just that I don’t know how long it will take before she wants me too.
Chapter 11
Nora
Things almost seem normal.Music plays on Cole’s phone while I read one of the library books he brought back for me. I keep waiting for somebody to interrupt with some insane demand, or maybe to burst in with violence, but it never happens. I need to get used to feeling safe. Maybe I need to give myself permission to feel that way.
Even if I do, I’m sure it will take time. That’s the thing I don’t think Cole understands. I need time. Fate might have decided in the blink of an eye to put us together, and the mating bond might have taken no time at all to set in, but I’m still half human and life doesn’t always work that way. He keeps expecting me to just push everything behind me and start fresh.
He doesn’t understand how much I wish I could, because that would mean moving on from everything else dragging me down. The slightest creak of the floorboards, and I jump, prepared for a punch or a kick or to have my worthlessness screamed at me. I’d love to forget all about the years of abuse that left me in this shape. What a gift that would be.
The soft chime cuts through the music and draws my attention. A text. Right away, curiosity makes me pick up the phone, even if it isn’t mine and even if it’s an invasion. I’m not trying to unlock his secrets or anything like that. I’m only curious.
Isn’t it funny what we tell ourselves when we’re trying to come up with reasons for doing what we probably shouldn’t?
I recognize the name right away. Connor is one of the guys Cole used to hang out with a lot around school. It got to the point where if I saw Connor in the hall, I knew Cole had to be close behind him—I would usually duck into the girls’ bathroom or the nearest empty classroom, just in case.
When are we going to hang out? Summer is moving fast. We need to take advantage.
I can only imagine what that means. Probably going to the lake, or maybe the pool, and staring at girls in their bathing suits. I don’t even want to think about anything more than that.
There are a lot of threads in his text app. Tara, Zeke, Declan—no surprise, they’re at the top of the list, the most recent exchanges besides Connor. Under Declan’s name, there’s the name Sarah.
Sarah? I guess there were a few girls with that name at school, but it’s not like I knew any of them. There’s no last name attached to the contact, either. I shouldn’t look into it, should I? This is a mistake. I’m almost holding my breath, listening for anybody on the other side of the bedroom door. Like someone’s going to shine a big spotlight on my face and accuse me of being a snoop.
But nobody does that.
What harm could it do? I just want to know who she is, and who she is to Cole. He’s my mate, right? Shouldn’t I know these things? That’s what I ask myself as I open the thread of messages.
Hey, sexy. When am I going to see you?
A bunch of us are going drinking down at the lake. Will I see you there? I’d better.
You know, I love it when you wear those tight T-shirts. Even if you’re so distracting in them.
You smell good today. My mouth was watering when you walked past in the hall.
My hands tighten on the phone until my knuckles ache. Who the hell is this girl? The way she’s talking to him… does that mean… he slept with her? Maybe they even dated. I don’t know if I would rather go through every last message or stop here and spare myself even more jealousy. And that’s what it is, too. I’m jealous. It’s a bitter, burning sensation that slowly spreads from my heart throughout my chest. Infecting me.
