CHAPTER 36
YVAINE
People are great psychologists when it comes to others, but they can be quite blind when it comes to themselves.
When trying to understand yourself, feelings can enslave you. Despite that, I had always been decent at analyzing what was happening to me, around me, inside me. I locked my feelings and emotions in a special drawer, a safe, and kept the key for later. That way, I could rationalize what was going on.
So today, as I was on my way to the airport, part of me knew I was in shock.
Emotional shock, to be precise.
Hello, Bunny Doc.When those words were produced by the wrong, yet most kissable, mouth, my mind and body had struggled to process it. Because Logan, my notorious but heart-stirring mate, could not be Rudolph. And Rudolph, the pesky reindeer I had grown so fond of, could not be Logan.
When my twin had rescued me from all the accusatory faces, the questions, and the heavy explanations, he’d taken us back to my apartment, and I hadn’t been surprised.
What had surprised me, however, had been when he’d deposited me in our car instead of bringing me upstairs, telling me to wait there.
Not that I’d had any intention of moving or going anywhere, since my brain had refused to follow my orders, and my heart was out on bereavement leave. Once Lachlan came back—thirty minutes or three hours later, I couldn’t tell—he had two backpacks, one hanging from each shoulder.
My stomach was churning, as if I might be sick from a disease whose only antidote was the virus that had caused it. My own mate.
I’d asked no questions. I’d figured that Lachlan was taking us to our house, back at the pack. I’d been partly wrong; he’d wanted to bring us home, just not the home I’d had in mind.
“Here.” Lachlan handed me a croissant and a matcha latte. I picked at the almonds. We’d already checked in and were waiting at the airport Starbucks, inside the international departure terminal.
Neither showered nor changed, Lachlan still wore a pair of blue sweatpants and a matching sweater, both embroidered with the Comet logo, with a baseball cap on underneath his hood. I wanted to crawl inside and disappear in his coziness.
He sat in the armchair next to mine, glancing at his phone as it was constantly lighting up.
Lachlan had been checking on me every so often since we’d first left the wereball arena, eyeing me discreetly, but of course I’d felt the stare every time. He’d neither asked nor uttered anything related to the forbiddenMsubject.
Yet.
“Yourmatelanded a damn good punch, I’ll give him that.”
His fingers pressed against the swollen part, which was healing slowly.
It was as if Logan had punched me too. In my heart. Repeatedly.
I bit at my thumbnail.
“You know, I get why you didn’t tell me.” His weary smile was entirely unconvincing as he wiped the tears from my cheeks. “But why were you so mad at him in the arena? What did he do that was so bad?”
I decided to answer a question with a question. “Do you remember that guy I was talking to on the phone all this time?”
“Yeah? The reindeer boy. And?”
“Rudolph.” There was a pang in my chest that startled me. How I wished I had a mechanical heart, that I was a cyborg. “Well, as it turns out, he was Logan all along.”
“Logan…” Lachlan narrowed his eyes. “Ah, yeah, the Masturbator.” Then he gasped and turned toward me, spilling some coffee from his cup. “Wait, what? It was him?”
“Why do you call him Masturbator?” I lifted a brow.
He frowned. “Just a nickname. But seriously, do you mean he knew you were his mate?”
“I sent him a picture of me at some point, and then—” I choked on my words. A picture of me with a very stupid, hideous face, nostrils wider than my eyes, flashed through my mind.
Oh, Stephen, why did you let me?
