54

Seline

It’s Lacy who opens the door for me when I reach home.

Dressed in a loose set of pajamas, she takes one look at me and all the sleepiness in her eyes disappears. “What happened?”

I just stare at her blankly, not knowing how to put my pain into words. It feels like there is a gaping hole inside my chest, and it won’t stop bleeding.

My best friend drags me inside, her voice frantic. “Why is there is so much blood on you? And why are you all wet? Seline! Why aren’t you saying anything?!”

She gives me a little shake, fear written all over her face.

“I…can I get something to drink?”

Something hot that will burn me and make me feel a different sort of pain.

She studies me, and then nods briskly. “Go inside the bathroom. Shower. I’ll have some coffee ready for you.”

Orders are good. I can follow orders.

She tells me she’ll leave a set of clean clothes for me in the bathroom. I start the shower and stand under the hot water, letting it pour over me.

It takes considerable strength to turn off the faucets. Dripping wet, I walk out of the shower, only to be greeted by clothes in the most girly shade of pink ever.

Lacy is the complete opposite of me. She enjoys her femininity and will flaunt it whenever she can. It’s one of her endearing qualities. With her perky blonde hair that is never not styled and lipstick continually in either pink or a very light red, she and I look like day and night.

But she has been someone who has stood by my side since the day I arrived in this town, a heartbroken girl on the cusp of her teenage years. And so, I love every part of her. That is why I showed up at her door rather than crossing the hall to my own bare apartment.

I tug on the pajamas and walk out, feeling dull and hollow. The scent of freshly brewed coffee fills my nostrils.

“Feel better?” Lacy is rushing towards me and she nearly rips open my pajama top in search for the source of blood. “Where is it?”

I cover her hand. “It’s healed.”

She shakes her head, doubtful. “Even I know that a wound with that much blood can’t heal that quickly.”

I rub my forehead, feeling a slight headache come on. “Can we sit?”

She hands me the coffee, and I let out a deep breath. It’s difficult to talk about what happened, but if I don’t tell Lacy, who else can I tell?

I take a sip of the coffee and she murmurs. “Something about you is different.”

I smile wanly. “My wolf. I can feel it.”

She looks shocked. “I thought you couldn’t…does this mean you can shift?”

I wrap my hands around the coffee, hating that it has somewhat cooled down. “I don’t think so. I can feel it inside me, but it’s not at a point that I can control it.”

Sitting here in this safe space with Lacy, I can feel the cracks begin to appear. “Can I ask you a question, Lacy?”

It’s odd. I’m hurting inside, completely raw, but I’m also numb at the same time.

“Anything.”

I wet my lips, trying to figure out how to phrase this question without sounding desperate. “Do you think that some people are meant to go through life just being despised by others? Even by those who are supposed to love them?”

Lacy’s eyes harden. “Did your mom call you?”

Sudden laughter spills out of me at the question. It’s almost a hysterical sound.

“She’d rather chew off her own face than call me. No, but she took out two more loans.”

Lacy hisses in anger.

“That’s not what I meant, though.” I look at her, tired.

She falls silent, and then lets out a whoosh of air. “No. I don’t think that happens. I think that somewhere along the way, especially for people who suffer the most, there is a great love out there. And when they chance upon that love, they forget about how terrible their life was.”

I stare at her, wondering for a moment how nice it must be to be such a romantic at heart.

“Why are you asking me that?” Lacy studies me. “And you haven’t told me what happened to you.”

The words come pouring out, from start to finish, as my coffee grows colder and the sun begins to peek out from the horizon. I realize I’m done when Lacy’s arms are around me and I’m crying.

I make the broken sounds of a child who has once again been thrown away by someone she thought would love her.

I don’t know how long we stay like that, but the sun is halfway in the sky and it’s stopped raining. The birds are chirping, happy with the rainfall, while I sit in Lacy’s kitchen, my whole word shattered and crumbling.

Lacy cups my face, her voice fierce. “You are not somebody who can easily be thrown away. And we are going to make him regret that. Do you hear me?”

I wonder if it’s that simple.

  

While it’s easy for someone to tell the other not to give up, I don’t think the other party truly understands what it means to not give up, especially in a case like mine. Being rejected by your fated mate is painful, heartbreaking, but it is also humiliating. And to not give up basically means to go running back to that person, your tail between your legs, begging for a second chance, completely debasing yourself.

My pride, which is all I have left at this point, is going to be shattered if I ask Austin to reconsider, begging him. I feel sick to the stomach even thinking about it. But aside from that, there is a new emotion brewing inside me.

Anger.

Pain and humiliation are not easy to deal with. But anger is.

So, I give it a few days, allowing my fury to build and fester until I am confident enough to face the man who rejected me so brutally.

I get my chance a week later after I get off my shift at Benny’s. I make my way to the mechanic shop that I know is under the ownership of the Stone Creek Wolf Pack. Getting the address of the shop and the name of the pack wasn’t that hard since Mr. Hamrington was quick to tell me to keep an eye on them.

The shop is up and running when I reach and I see a few men lingering there, already hard at work. A few of them I recognize as Austin’s pack mates from the bar. The rest I don’t know. But I’m quick to spot Austin.

And it seems that he’s also noticed my presence.

His form is stiff as he watches me through his hooded eyes, anger glittering in his gaze.

Fuck him.

“I want a word with you,” I say coldly.

He’s already striding towards me and he grabs me roughly by the upper arm, hissing, “What the hell are you doing here?! Didn’t I tell you—"

“Aside from throwing a temper tantrum,” I say icily. “You didn’t say much that night.”

I yank my arm away, hating how good his touch feels.

“Watch it,” he says warningly. “Don’t make a scene here.”