“What, being a decent person?” I sneered.
Rush closed his eyes, breathing out through his nose. “No, having someone I care about. I’ve never loved anyone or liked anyone like this. I don’t know how to balance my feelings and my role.”
“You didn’t like sharing your power with me,” I realized, pushing my arms weakly away from me. He clambered to hold onto my noodle-like limbs without bruising me. “You want me as a mate but not a Luna.”
“I didn’t know it affected me,” he fought with his voice rising.
“So, instead, you push me away and basically tell me how much of a failure I am?” My body hit the ground as I pushed Rush away from me. He kneeled over me, looking at me with longing, and I struggled to stay mad. “You don’t think I get enough of that from my father? I don’t need that from you.”
“I know,” he rushed out, forehead wrinkling with despair. His right hand lifted and gently held onto the outside of my thigh, desperate to have me within grasp. “I know what you must think of me.”
“No, you really don’t.” I turned and kneeled on my knees and hands before forcing myself to stand up, although I wobbled in the process. “You could never know what I think of you because I will never do that to you. I will never tell our pack how much I wish I was mated to someone more competent. I would never do that to you.”
Rush remained on the ground, looking up at me. My blurry vision deterred me from knowing what his expression was, which aided me in my attempt to stay cold.
“Please,” he begged, the word coming out like a prayer.
“Please give you another chance?” He sighed and reached for my hand. I pulled it back. “I don’t think I want anything to do with you right now. I’ve seen enough of you to know how much of a coward you are. I need some time.”
History Lessons
I traveled home with Kenna and the two Warriors. The Warriors didn’t speak to me although they exchanged looks of disgust with each other as I entered the car. The smell of vomit clung to my skin.
Kenna smiled nervously at me, her hand smoothly lifting to cover her nose inconspicuously.
“I know I must smell awful,” I apologized, sending her what I thought was a friendly smile. She patted my hand that was resting on the seat awkwardly and faced forward.
When we arrived back at the packhouse, Kenna shuffled me inside, hiding me from prying eyes. I stumbled up the steps, arms reaching out for something to balance me. My hand gripped someone else’s, and I immediately knew it was Rush. I wretched my hand from his, holding it to my chest protectively. He breathed heavier, frustrated.
“Sloane, can we at least talk about this?” he asked softly, using his body to shield me. I held onto the stair railing with both hands, tiredly dragging my feet behind me. My shoes hit each step, making a thump that startled me each time.
The long dress I had on limited my movement, my legs only able to spread so far before they caught resistance. Rush bent down next to me and lifted the fabric from around my feet up to my knees, allowing me to walk correctly.
Once I reached the top of the stairs, I snatched my dress away from Rush’s hands and set myself on a straight path to our room. I could hear Rush following me, staggering as I drifted from side to side, wondering if he should help me or leave me.
“Sloane,” he hummed behind me, close enough to feel his breath on my ear. I closed my eyes, resting my left hand on the wall for support. “Please, just talk to me.”
“What do you want me to say?” The words probably sounded mean, but I honestly didn’t know what he expected of me at that moment. “How do you think you can make this better?”
“I don’t know!” he shouted, his arms stretching out and then coming back to pull on the roots of his dark hair.
“Then let me go to sleep,” I sighed, opening the door. He stepped behind me, but I softly closed the door and locked it before he could step inside.
His forehead gently hit the door, followed by two tiny bumps of his hands on the molding. I leaned against it, forehead touching the soft wood, hands still holding up my dress. I could hear his breath, the low, raspy hum from his lungs, a grunt of defeat.
“Tell me what you want me to do,” he nearly whimpered. “Tell me, and I’ll do it, I don’t care what it is.”
“I don’t want anything from you.”
“Sweetheart, let me fix this. I can fix this, just tell me how.”
My lip curled in disgust at the same moment, my knees became weaker. “I’m not your sweetheart. You need to fix this on your own. This isn’t my problem.”
I climbed onto the thick bed and kicked my shoes off the edge. My body was contorted and covering more than half of the mattress, and I took a moment to know what it felt like to sleep alone, without Rush.
When I woke, I dragged myself off the bed to the shower. I fiddled with the hot and cold and then back to hot. The dress slipped off my body onto the floor and then my underwear and bra. I cleaned myself with frugal time; the shower smelled like Rush.
I combed my hair, brushed my teeth, washed my face, and then when I could waste no more time in the bathroom, I wandered around the perimeter of our room. I grabbed a pair of sweatpants and an old tee shirt from my cousin and lazily tugged them on my body.
Not long after, my empty stomach began to contract with pain. There was nothing for me to eat other
