You want me and I know.
Of course he knows—we're mates. That is how mates are supposed to be. So if I'm aware of this, then why am I flustered? What is so shameful about desiring one's ideal match? Maybe it's just me. I know very well that my sober, defensive self would rather die than face this conversation.
"It's just how I feel," I say softly.
"Well, you know there's no need to feel embarrassed. What happened to all of that fire? You're stubborn, Brigette, but undeniably determined."
"I don't know. I know what I should and shouldn't do—according to that fiery girl—but now I just feel lost. If I'm not that girl, then I don't know who I'm supposed to be. I really thought that's who I was. Maybe it is. Maybe
I don't know what made me detest dependence. Maybe if I flipped through my life like a picture book, I could point out each moment that added a brick to the wall, but I can't. Or maybe I just don't care to know. I'm far too consumed with the fact that I can't help but be dependent on David. I think I would do anything for him. "Perfect," Helena says as I slide the dressed potatoes into the oven. "Now can you watch the sauce?" I stand over the stove and inhale the heavenly fumes of the kitchen. "I'm happy to help every night. It's not like I have anything else to do." "David's mother did all of the cooking; seeing you in here reminds me of her." "Oh, do you know where she is now?
After Helena and I finish cooking dinner, I find privacy in my bedroom instead of waiting for David and eating with him. I plan to call Lindsey tomorrow to ask her about visiting, which should give me enough time to check in with David about it. I'm sure he could care less, seeing that he has much more going on these days. Jeremy found out that other Alphas in the region are calling for change, and for the change of what, we are unsure. It seems to be a very contained issue for the time being. I feel bad that David has to take on another problem, but I feel there is nothing I could do to better the situation. Like most things, it is out of my hands. I get myself ready for bed earlier than usual. As spring begins to fade into summer, the nights aren't so cold, and I abandon my heavy pajamas for lighter ones. Before showing more skin didn't faze me, but now there is more to consider. I ru
My smile stretches impossibly wide when the car pulls up in front of the house. Jeremy is standing just behind me, watching as well, waiting for the back door to open. I squint and lean forward, trying to see through the tinted glass windows. My feet tap restlessly against the ground, and the driver gets out. He walks over and opens the door for her. When she steps out, I lose all sense of patience and run to her. Lindsey laughs as I engulf her in my arms. "I missed you!" I shout. "I can't believe it—you're actually here. I didn't think you could leave him." She chuckles and hugs me back. "How could I say no? I'mdyingto see what your new life is like." "It's different," I tell her as I pull back. "Ugh—we have so much to talk about."
When I enter the bedroom, David is already sitting on the edge of the bed, on his side. He looks up as I continue to the opposite side. These past few nights, we've formed a routine of sorts. I get ready in my room and come over to the master where David will be waiting for me. I get in bed, he turns off the lights and settles down as well. We talk for a little before I eventually fall asleep, not remembering where the conversation ended. This night feels different, however. Lindsey is tucked away in her private guest house; I thought she would enjoy the extra space and seclusion. So as usual, we are utterly alone. Maybe it was the children then—the talk of motherhood that's throwing me off. Something pulls in my gut as I lay down, and when he shuts off the light, the feeling worsens. David lowers down and I turn to face him. He lays
"Lindsey? When did you and Timothy, you know, go all the way? Like, how long did you wait?" She looks up from her plate and says, "How long? I don't know, maybe around two weeks." "Two weeks? Really?" "It's not like I'm unsure about my feelings for him. The mate bond is for life—there won't be anyone else. Why wait when you're with your soulmate?" I poke around at the breakfast Helena sent. It arrived just as I did, so Lindsey and I decided to eat together at her guest house. The windows are open and a near-summer breeze passes through, blowing softly against my skin before drifting throughout the rooms. She has everything bright and open and the morning has never felt more welcomed.
The sound of the door has me up on my feet like a dog. Lindsey and Helena watch as I hurry to the archway and peer into the hall. David is at the end in the foyer, closing and locking the door behind him. He's home earlier than usual, and I couldn't have hoped for more. "David," I breathe and rush over, "what happened with the man? He's dead, isn't he? Do you know why she did it?" "How do you know about that?" He asks, taken-back. "Lindsey and I were there." "Why were you there? Were you looking for the scene?" He questions. "No, we weren't. We were just walking to the gardens, and we saw it happen. W-We left right after and ran back home."
"You're going to be dressing for cold weather. I picked up some sophisticated basics but—" "Are you saying my wardrobe lacks sophistication?" I ask Jeremy and turn from the closet with a pair of ripped jeans in my hands. He says, "You can bring jeans, but ones with all of the fabric intact." I switch the grungy denim for pants that better reflect the sort oflookhe's describing. We both move back and forth in my spare room from the closet to my suitcases. He insisted that I would need two suitcases—despite my disbelief—and as it's turning out, from the look of the dresses and outfits and pajamas and other bits, he's right, as usual. Lindsey headed back home a few days ago, but I had little time to mourn her abs
Part 2 I think I fell in love with the idea of running away when my grandfather was dying and we traveled to see him. All of it was so exciting; the airport, the commotion, the flight. The moment the plane pushed from the ground and that strange floating feeling spiked in my gut, I was hooked. My eyes never left the window. My father was apprehensive about the whole thing, but he wouldn't dare keep my mother from saying one last goodbye to her father. While he was quiet and reserved the entire time, I knew being around humans and pretending to be one of them wasn't his style. Like David, he is prideful in what he is, who he is, and the traditions he so passionately keeps alive. It's our culture, our sense of self, and he liked these distinctions between us and them. Humans were so painfully singular—selfish, h