Chapter 27

My Cheating Mate

Emma pov

The hospital room was quiet except for the steady rhythm of Jeremy's breathing and the soft beep of monitors. I'd pulled my chair as close to his bed as possible, my hand loosely holding his while he slept off the anesthesia and pain medication.

Four in the morning, according to the clock on the wall. I should go home, get some real sleep in an actual bed. But every time I tried to convince myself to leave, I remembered the feeling of his blood soaking through my clothes, the sound of Vanessa's laughter, the terror of thinking I might lose him.

So I stayed.

My phone buzzed quietly. A text from Aria: "Saw the news about the trial. Is he okay? Are YOU okay?"

I typed back one-handed, not wanting to let go of Jeremy: "He's stable. Had emergency surgery. I'm... I don't know what I am."

Her response came immediately: "I'm coming to the hospital."

"It's 4 AM."

"I don't care. You shouldn't be alone right now."

Twenty minutes later, Aria appeared in the doorway with two cups of coffee and a bag from the 24-hour diner. She took one look at me—still covered in dried blood, eyes red from crying, hair a mess—and set everything down to pull me into a hug.

"You look like hell," she said gently.

"Feel like it too." I accepted the coffee gratefully. "Thanks for coming."

"That's what best friends do." She pulled up another chair, studying Jeremy's sleeping form. "So he really collapsed in the middle of testifying?"

"Reopened his surgical wounds. Internal bleeding. He knew he wasn't healed enough to be there, but he insisted on testifying anyway." I took a sip of coffee, the warmth helping settle my nerves. "He almost died, Aria. Again. Because he was too stubborn to wait."

"Sounds like someone else I know," Aria said pointedly. "Someone who took a silver blade meant for him even though she had every reason to let it hit."

"That was different. That was instinct."

"Was it? Or was it love?" She leaned forward. "Em, you've been by his side for weeks. You hold his hand. You read to him. You're here at four in the morning covered in his blood instead of at home sleeping. When does instinct become choice?"

I was quiet for a long moment, watching Jeremy's chest rise and fall. "I'm terrified," I admitted finally. "Of loving him again. Of trusting him. Of being that vulnerable with someone who's already destroyed me once."

"That's completely valid."

"But I think—" I paused, trying to find the words. "I think I'm more terrified of not giving him another chance. Of walking away and spending the rest of my life wondering what if. What if he really had changed? What if we could have built something real?"

"So you've decided to try again?"

"I don't know if it's a decision so much as an acceptance." I squeezed Jeremy's hand gently. "I never stopped loving him, Aria. Not really. I was just so hurt and angry that I couldn't see past it. But watching him testify, watching him take responsibility for everything, watching him nearly die—" My voice cracked. "I can't keep pretending I don't care. Can't keep running from what I feel."

"Okay," Aria said slowly. "But Em, loving him and being in a relationship with him are two different things. You can love him and still protect yourself. Still require him to earn back your trust."

"I know. And that's the part that scares me most. Because I don't know how to do that. Don't know what 'earning back trust' even looks like after something like this." I looked at her helplessly. "How do you come back from betrayal this deep?"

"Honestly? I think you need professional help." Aria's voice was gentle but firm. "Both of you. This isn't something you can just talk through over coffee. You need a therapist, someone trained in trauma and relationship repair."

"Therapy." The word felt strange. "For wolves?"

"Yes, for wolves. Emma, humans aren't the only ones who experience trauma and betrayal. We just pretend we're stronger than we are because of some outdated idea that wolves don't need emotional support." She squeezed my shoulder. "But you do. You both do. What you've been through—what he did to you, what Vanessa did to both of you—that's serious trauma. And trauma doesn't just heal because you love each other."

She was right. I knew she was right. But the idea of sitting in a therapist's office, talking about my feelings, admitting how broken I felt—it made me want to crawl out of my skin.

"I'll think about it," I said finally.

"Don't think too long. Because Em, if you're going to try to rebuild with him, you need tools. You need healthy coping mechanisms and communication strategies and ways to process your anger that don't involve pushing it down until it explodes." Aria's expression softened. "I love you. I want you to be happy. But I also want you to be healthy. And right now, you're neither."

Jeremy stirred, his hand tightening around mine. His eyes opened slowly, unfocused and glassy from the medication.

"Emma?" His voice was rough, barely audible.

"I'm here," I said, leaning closer. "How do you feel?"

"Like I got hit by a truck." He tried to smile but it came out as more of a grimace. "Again."

"That's what happens when you reopen surgical wounds by being stubborn," I said, trying to keep my tone light even though I wanted to yell at him for scaring me.

"Worth it." His eyes found mine, clearer now despite the drugs. "Had to finish. Had to tell them everything."

"You did. You told them. Now you need to focus on healing. Actually healing this time, not pushing yourself until you collapse."

"Okay." He was already drifting again, the medication pulling him back under. "Stay?"

It was a question, not a demand. He was giving me the choice, even drugged and barely conscious.

"I'll stay," I promised.

A small smile crossed his face before sleep claimed him again.

Aria watched this exchange with a knowing expression. "You're all in, aren't you? Even if you're not ready to admit it."

"Maybe," I admitted. "But Aria, you're right about therapy. We can't do this alone. I can't carry all this hurt and anger by myself, and Jeremy can't carry all his guilt. We need help."

"Good." She stood, gathering her things. "I'll text you some names. Dr. Sarah Chen specializes in mate bond trauma. She's expensive but supposedly excellent."

"Mate bond trauma is a specialty?"

"Em, you're not the first wolf whose mate betrayed her. You're just the first one brave enough to try to work through it instead of accepting a rejection and moving on." Aria kissed my forehead. "Get some rest. Even if it's just in that chair. You're no good to anyone if you collapse from exhaustion."

After she left, I settled back into my chair, Jeremy's hand still in mine. Mate bond trauma. The phrase rattled around in my head.

That's what this was. Trauma. Not just hurt feelings or a relationship rough patch. Actual, clinical trauma that would require professional help to heal from.

And Jeremy had his own trauma to deal with—the guilt, the self-destructive behavior, the need to punish himself by pushing his body past its limits.

We were both broken. Both damaged by what had happened.

But maybe broken things could be repaired. Maybe with the right tools, the right support, the right commitment, we could build something new from the pieces.

I pulled out my phone and sent Aria a text: "Send me Dr. Chen's contact info. For both of us."

Her response was immediate: "Already done. Proud of you, Em."

I wasn't sure proud was the right word. Terrified seemed more accurate. Hopeful but cautious. Committed but uncertain.

But I was trying. That had to count for something.

Jeremy shifted in his sleep, unconsciously moving closer to me even while unconscious. His wolf seeking his mate, even dissolved bond or not.

And my wolf responded, settling contentedly for the first time in months.

Maybe Aria was right. Maybe I was all in.

The question was whether all in would be enough.

Whether love and therapy and commitment could overcome betrayal and trauma and broken trust.

I didn't have the answer yet.

But I was willing to try to find it.

And that, for now, was the bravest thing I could do.

I closed my eyes, exhaustion finally winning, my hand still holding Jeremy's.

Tomorrow we'd talk about therapy. About healing. About what came next.

But tonight, I just needed to know he was alive.

That we both were.

And that maybe, just maybe, we could find our way back to each other.

One painful, honest, terrifying step at a time.

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**THE END**

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Thank you for letting me write Emma and Jeremy's story with you! This was a 27-chapter journey exploring betrayal, accountability, forgiveness, and the complicated reality that love doesn't always solve everything—but it can be a starting point for healing.

Emma and Jeremy have a long road ahead. Therapy, rebuilding trust, processing trauma. But they're committed to trying, which is what matters. Would you like me to write an epilogue showing them further down that healing journey?