Chapter 21

My Cheating Mate

Emma pov

Jeremy's eyes opened for the fourth time that day, immediately scanning the hospital room with what had become a familiar desperation. When his gaze found me in the chair beside his bed, his entire body relaxed.

"Still here," he whispered, his voice still rough but stronger than yesterday.

"Still here," I confirmed, closing the book I'd been reading. "Where else would I be?"

A ghost of a smile crossed his face before exhaustion pulled him back under. His hand, which had been reaching toward me, fell limply to the bed.

I took it anyway, holding it gently while he slept.

Five days since he'd first woken up. Five days of this pattern—eyes opening, searching for me, relaxing when he found me, then sleeping again. The doctors said it was normal, that his body was using every ounce of energy to heal from the trauma.

But each time he looked for me first, before checking his injuries or asking about the pack, something in my chest tightened.

The door opened and my father stepped in, carrying yet another container of food he'd insisted I eat. He stopped short when he saw me holding Jeremy's hand, his expression carefully neutral.

"He wake up again?" he asked quietly, setting the food on the small table.

"For about thirty seconds. Asked if I was still here, then went back to sleep."

My father pulled up a chair on the opposite side of the bed. We sat in silence for a moment, the only sound Jeremy's steady breathing and the soft beep of monitors.

"Emma," my father finally said. "We should talk."

I'd been expecting this. Dreading it, actually. "Okay."

"You've been here every day for almost four weeks. You sleep in that chair more often than your own bed. You hold his hand, talk to him, read to him." He paused. "Baby girl, I'm not judging. I just need to understand what's happening here."

"I don't know if I can explain it," I admitted, watching Jeremy's chest rise and fall. "I should hate him, Dad. I know I should. He cheated on me, planned to use me, broke my heart. And I was doing so well—moving on, being strong, building a life without him."

"But?"

"But when I thought he might die, when I sat here not knowing if he'd ever wake up—" My voice caught. "I realized all that strength, all that moving on, it was just a defense mechanism. I was protecting myself by pretending I didn't care. But I never stopped caring. Never stopped loving him."

My father was quiet for a long moment. "He hurt you badly."

"He did."

"And you're entitled to your anger. Entitled to make him earn back your trust, if you even want to give him that chance."

"I know."

"But Emma—" He reached across the bed, covering both my hand and Jeremy's with his own. "I've watched you these past weeks. Watched the way you care for him, the way you light up when he wakes, the way you hold his hand like you're afraid to let go." His voice softened. "You love him. Really love him. Not just the mate bond—though I suspect that's playing a role even dissolved. But actual, genuine love."

Tears pricked my eyes. "Is that stupid? After everything?"

"No, sweetheart. It's not stupid." He squeezed my hand. "It's human. Well, wolf. You know what I mean." A brief smile. "Love doesn't just disappear because someone hurts you. Sometimes we wish it would—it would be so much easier. But it doesn't work that way."

"What do I do?" The question came out small, lost.

"That's up to you. But Emma, if you're going to give him another chance, he needs to earn it. Really earn it. Not just say pretty words or make promises. He needs to show you, consistently, over time, that he's changed. That he understands what he did and why it was wrong."

"And if he can't?"

"Then you walk away with your head held high, knowing you gave him a chance he probably didn't deserve." My father's expression hardened slightly. "But if he hurts you again, if he takes advantage of your forgiveness, I don't care that he's the Alpha's son. I will end him."

Despite everything, I smiled. "Dad—"

"I mean it. You're my daughter. My only child. And watching him break your heart once was hard enough. I won't watch it happen twice."

Jeremy's eyes fluttered open again, catching the tail end of my father's threat. His gaze moved between us, processing.

"Beta Marcus," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "That's... fair."

My father's eyebrows rose. "You heard that?"

"Some of it. Drifting in and out." Jeremy's focus shifted to me. "He's right, Emma. You should walk away. You should hate me. I don't deserve—" He stopped, coughing weakly.

I reached for the water cup, holding the straw to his lips. He drank gratefully, his eyes never leaving my face.

"You don't get to decide what I deserve," I said quietly. "Or what I should feel. That's my choice."

"But—"

"No." I set the water down. "Jeremy, you hurt me. Badly. And we need to have a lot of conversations about what happened, why it happened, and what it would take for me to trust you again. But right now, you need to focus on healing. Everything else can wait."

"You're too good," he whispered. "Too forgiving."

"I haven't forgiven you yet," I corrected. "I said I love you. That's different. I can love you and still be angry. Still be hurt. Still need time."

Something like understanding crossed his face. "Okay. Time. I can give you time. All the time you need."

"Good." I squeezed his hand. "Now rest. Dr. Reeves said you need to stay awake longer each time, build your strength. But you still need sleep."

"Will you be here when I wake up?"

The question was so vulnerable, so uncertain, that my heart ached. This wasn't the confident future Alpha I'd mated. This was someone who'd lost everything and was desperately hoping for a second chance.

"I'll be here," I promised.

He nodded and let his eyes drift closed, but his hand remained tight around mine.

My father watched this exchange with an expression I couldn't quite read. After Jeremy's breathing evened into sleep, he spoke.

"I never thought I'd say this, but I think he really does love you. The real question is whether love is enough to overcome what he did."

"I don't know," I admitted. "But I think I need to find out."

"Then I'll support you. Whatever you decide." He stood, kissing my forehead. "Just promise me you'll protect your heart this time. Don't let him back in until he's proven himself worthy."

"I promise, Dad."

After he left, I settled back into my chair, Jeremy's hand still in mine.

The past couldn't be changed. The betrayal, the pain, the three months of carefully constructed walls—all of that was real and valid.

But so was this. Jeremy fighting through unconsciousness to find me. His hand reaching for mine. The way he looked at me like I was his entire world.

Maybe my father was right. Maybe love wasn't enough.

But maybe it was a start.

And right now, a start was all I needed.

I opened my book and began reading aloud again, even though Jeremy was asleep. The story didn't matter—it was just the sound of my voice, the presence of someone who cared, the promise that he wouldn't wake up alone.

I'd stayed through his unconsciousness. Through the uncertainty and fear.

Now I'd stay through his recovery.

What happened after that—whether we rebuilt what we'd lost or went our separate ways—that was a question for another day.

For now, this was enough.

We were enough.

Even broken, even uncertain, even still figuring out what love looked like after betrayal.

We were enough.