“Is she the Islander’s twin?”
“Yeah,” Logan breathed out.
I cursed.
“She’s just so…” Logan shut his eyes tight and winced, covering them with his big palms. “Just so…”
“Hot?” I offered, but an icy silver gaze zipped me up. I recovered quickly, though. “She can’t possibly be hotter than my sweet pea. Can introduce her to you, if you wanna release some pres?—”
The desk chair crashing next to my head cut me off.
“Don’t push me, Kill. Isn’t that clear enough?”
“Gotcha!” I lifted my hands. “So, how about we go to the bar to find some?—”
“I don’t want anyone else!” he snarled. “I just want her.”
“Never thought I’d see this day come,” I muttered, “but I was saying to find some alcohol for you and the magic B&B for me.”
Boobs & Booze. My fave combo. I needed those—both, in no particular order—after what I saw and what I had to do to help my friend and my twin.
“And you can tell me more about this special lady of yours.”
LOGAN
Kill didn’t expect me to nod. Neither did I.
However, part of me knew my Bunny Doc needed time to think, to ponder, probably to make all those pros-and-cons lists with her Post-Its and rulers. Not that I could find a way to get to her house without the damned Islander, her father, and her rabid friends barking at me. I wasn’t sure I could control myself around them, either. I was already on edge, hanging to the edge of the chasm by a hand. Hell, even Killian mentioning my Bunny Doc in that lewd way earlier sent my blood nuclear.
Plus, my room reminded me of all the times we’d talked over the phone. Guilt punched my stomach hard, way harder than any punch I’d gotten today at the game. I pinched the bridge of my nose as I panted with my mouth open, fighting the nausea rising from my stomach.
When I looked at my unmade bed, sheet tossed aside, pillow still bent and holding the shape of my head, I could see myself lying there, eyes closed and a stupid smile on my face, listening to her voice as she droned on and on about exams and other daily things. Those were simple times. Perfect times.
When I glanced at the desk, I flinched and averted my eyes immediately to my bare feet.
A memory of her telling me to be kind to my feet because they carry us around all day hit me.
Fuck.
All I could see was me sitting at my chair as I helped her study, the PDF of her book open on my laptop, trying very hard to focus on quizzing her instead of gawking at her on the video call—and failing miserably. Damn, when I first saw her there, staring at the camera expectantly, I almost fell off my ass. My breath had whooshed out of my chest. She’d paralyzed me, looking so adorable.
Clutched in her small, cute hands had been that big brick of a book she’d had to memorize by heart—not that her juicy brain had had any problems with it. That pen tucked behind her cute ear, the ear I’d wanted to bite, and two more pens styling her hair. I’d wanted to snatch and throw them away, see them fall all over, maybeenjoyher irritated face before I kissed it better.
Gorgeous. Mine.
My room didn’t lie. It was a physical reminder of how far gone I was. Of how I’d fallen helplessly, headfirst in love with my adorable mate with a big brain and even bigger heart. I was so proud of her. Her courage inspired me. There wasn’t a safe spot in my room anymore, nowhere untouched by her.
I had to leave.
I hadn’t even showered, hadn’t healed my game wounds. But why bother? The wound that mattered the most, that hurt the most, couldn’t be patched with stitches or wolf healing properties.
My mate had indirectly rejected me. The moon-shaped necklace tied around my wrist was a solid reminder of that. The worst part? Her tears had corroded me like acid.
And it was all my fault.
Scratch that, my damn parasite’s fault!
“But if she hasn’t turned you down already, she probably just needs time to adjust. The mate bond is some heavy shit,” Killian said some time later, swirling the foam of his beer.
