Page 32 of Fated to the Alpha

Shane shot her a wide, cheerful grin. “Good morning.”

Kimberly touched a part of her messy hair and suddenly looked embarrassed, even though she shouldn’t have been. She was still beautiful.

“You’re still a morning person.”

“Having to get up at the crack of dawn to do farm chores before school kind of permanently programmed my internal clock.”

She shuffled into the kitchen, bare feet making a sticky noise on the tile. “Pancakes … Strawberry pancakes!” Kimberly’s eyes widened and a little excitement touched her tired expression.

“They’re still your favorite, right?”

“They are. I was saving those strawberries for a salad, but this is better.”

She leaned against the counter, a safe distance out of reach, but near enough that he could smell the tiny remnants of last night on her clothes. Pizza, arousal, and tears.

“How many do you want?” he asked, pointing to the plate of finished, misshapen pancakes.

She looked long and hard at the pancakes. “I’ll start with one. I don’t have much of an appetite.”

The batter bowl was only half empty, five finished with one in the skillet. Any other time, it’d feel like a waste, but not that morning.

“You feeling okay?”

Kimberly wrapped her arms around her stomach, and her shoulders hunched like she wanted to make herself smaller. Shyness didn’t belong on her.

“Sort of … I don’t know…” She took a long breath. “You didn’t need to do all this. You didn’t need to stay.”

Shane slid the sixth pancake onto the plate and turned off the stove. “Maybe not, but I wanted to. It didn’t feel right to leave.”

They went quiet as Shane fixed their plates and arranged their places at the two-seater dining table in the tiled space between the kitchen and living room. Even when her glass of orange juice was poured, Kimberly didn’t move from her spot against the counter.

Shane studied her, reaching out with all his senses to read her. He needed something, anything, to get him started on the path to helping her. What the hell happened to make her shut down like this?

A few beats passed, and she spoke. “I really am sorry about last night. You have to know it’s not about you.”

“You’re acting like it is about me. I was kissing you when it happened, whatever it was. You won’t get near me now. You’ll barely look at me. I’m sorry if that kiss offended you or I pushed too hard. I didn’t mean to scare you, I just … I don’t know. I couldn’t stop myself and I could have sworn you felt the same, so I thought it was okay.”

Shane didn’t mean to make it sound so accusatory, but he was at his wits’ end. She hadn’t been awake for half an hour and he was already fucking up his commitment to not push.

As if it were a challenge, Kimberly lifted her gaze and met his stare, her mouth set. Anger might have been better than shyness, but not like this. She shut him out completely now, throwing up a stone wall so high he couldn’t scale it or break it down if he tried. This wolf didn’t have the breath to blow down her defenses.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed. “If you say it wasn’t about me, then it’s not about me … Can you tell me what it is about?”

Her brow line softened, but she shook her head. “I really don’t want to.”

He held up his hands in surrender. “I won’t make you … Can you promise that whenever you’re ready to talk about it you will?”

Kimberly didn’t owe him anything. Not a talk, not an answer, nothing. After all, he was her hydrangea. He would have hoped that last night did something to change that, but apparently, he was wrong.

It didn’t take her long to consider it and she nodded. “Yeah, I will. Just not now.”

“You got it.”

Shane ached to kiss her, just one more time, but he couldn’t make his feet move. He had to let her come to him. This was her space, her call. He only made himself available, open to whatever she wanted. Talk or no talk. Kiss or no kiss. But, God, he hated not having a lick of control over what was happening right now.

Like waiting for a timid, starving dog to approach its bowl, Shane refrained from eating until they were both at the table. It took a while, but they were finally seated across from one another and eating their strawberry pancakes.

To not take charge, to not take initiative, to not do something about this thing between them, was like sitting on hot coals. He watched her cut into each bite of the pancake, chew, and swallow so slowly, as if any bit of effort to feed herself was just on the edge of her capabilities. What could have messed her up this much?