Page 34 of Plus-Size Bullied Mate

The porch boards feel cool under my feet from the early evening setting in, but I don’t care. I follow the flat stones from the porch around the side of the cabin toward the hot springs, moving away from the lamplight through the window and towards the steam.

The springs are quiet as the steam rises in slow columns that disappear into the air around me. I sit on the flat rock at the edge and look at the water with every hope that the distance will soothe something in me.

Despite the nerves spiking in me, leaving my nervous system feeling shot, I decided I’m not going to cry. I’ve cried enough for things and people who deserve it, and I refuse to give that away to him right now.

The anger inside my chest has nowhere left to go right now, and without the anger, there’s only raw pain underneath that has been there this whole time. I feel exhausted and exposed, like I’m in desperate need of the chance to set all of these heavy emotions down.

Pressing my palms flat against the warm rocks, I watch the water and breathe.

This is my life now, regardless of what that means, or how much I want to reject it.

This man, who is supposed to mean everything to me, the pack down the mountain, and the name I carry that will never stop reminding me of everything I’ve lost and will likely continue to lose… I can’t escape any of it.

Hunter is going to push, and I’m going to push back, and we’re going to keep doing this until one of us breaks, bends, or discovers something neither of us can currently see from where we’re standing.

The steam drifts, and the hot spring continues to exude its warmth, so I stay outside for as long as I possibly can.

The precarious peace might be temporary, but it’s all I have right now.

Chapter 12 - Hunter

I stand at the kitchen counter for a long time after the door closes, and the cabin feels different when she’s not in it.

It feels bigger in all the wrong ways, but I can feel her through the bond, just outside and close enough to keep my nerves from fraying completely. Seeing as she hasn’t gone far, I assume she’s at the hot spring. I would’ve gone there too.

As much as I want to, I don’t follow her immediately.

I’m self-aware enough to know that following her immediately would be the wrong move. I need to let the air clear first and let both of us come down from what just happened.

So instead, just to keep myself busy, I fill the kettle, set it on the burner, and stand with my hands on the counter, staring at the grain in the countertop as I wait. I breathe deliberately like I learned to in circumstances with considerably higher stakes than a domestic argument, which doesn’t help as much as I’d like it to.

You decided to own me.

It wasn’t what I did, even if that’s how she took it. I brought Tessa back here and went through with the mate ceremony because the threat of Hayes was a real one, and because I couldn’t stand the thought of anyone taking her away from me, regardless of how irrational it seemed.

It’s obvious that I pushed her into something she didn’t want, and likely something she’s afraid of, but that doesn’t mean this isn’t real. This connection hasn’t been completed yet, but the pull I feel towards her is something I can’t deny. Even she can’t, as much as she wants to.

The kettle boils, but I don’t pour it.

Instead, I turn the burner off and head outside before I can talk myself out of leaving this alone.

Tessa is on a flat rock at the edge of the small pool, looking at the water with the expression of someone battling too many internal thoughts on their own. The steam drifts between us as I come around the side of the cabin, and when she hears me, her shoulders stiffen slightly.

Still, she doesn’t tell me to go away, and I take that sign while I can.

Reaching the edge of the rock, I lower myself onto it a few feet from her, not too close to feel like pressure, but close enough to exist in the same space quietly. The water is warm where I’m sitting, as its heat rises through the cold air, and the steam is thick enough to pull the chill out of the darkness around us.

We don’t say anything for a while, and in a way, it’s nicer than filling it with words.

This is something I’ve learned about Tessa in the short time we’ve been together… she doesn’t fill the silence out of politeness. Most people do when the air between them goes quiet, and they feel the need to smooth it over.

Instead, Tessa sits in silence as if it soothes her, and tonight, with the water shifting against stone, I find I’m grateful for that.

I look at the water and try to find a starting point that won’t make her instinctively pull away from me.

“I’m not going to argue what you said before,” I say when it feels right to.

Tessa doesn’t respond, but I know she’s listening. I can tell the difference now.