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Masculine chuckles in the background made her flush. Her mates and Wendy’s were there, I knew, having lunch together.
Tell them you do not.I didn’t want to admit what a relief it was to write. Writing sounded like me.Big bullies.
Protests followed.
“They want me to tell you that they are not bullies, just honest,” Christi said after a long glance to her left. “But sometimes honestly is not comfortable.”
Wasn’t that true? I didn’t have the luxury of long conversations where I could tweak what I said to give shades of meaning as people did when they spoke. Writing kept me a little terse, especially on the whiteboard. I had to condense what I wanted to convey, somewhat. Online chat was more flexible, no limit to the amount I could write, but the habit of short sentences and paragraphs was already ingrained.How is Dean?
“He’s fine,” Wendy assured me. “I thought we could have him here for lunch today and kind of…well…you know.” She gave a little headshake. “But we decided it wasn’t fair to do that without letting him know you’d be here.”
And did you?Back to requesting uncomfortable honesty.Did you tell him I’d be here?
“Yes.” Christi was always the one to share bad news it seemed. “He said he isn’t ready but to say hello from him.”
No way I should be so excited about a casual comment like that. Especially when he probably just said it to avoid appearing a total boor in avoiding me. But my wolf did a backflip inside me, and my goofy face smiled. Against my will.Well, tell him hello back.
“I swear this is starting to feel like seventh grade,” Wendy grumbled.
I don’t understand.Mostly because I’d never been to seventh grade. Or any grade. And my friends’ expressions both reflected that realization, with a hint of the pity I hated and they rarely displayed.
“In middle school,” Christi said, “boys and girls are still at that awkward stage where they have friends pass messages and notes back and forth between them.”
Awkward. And didn’t that express it. Except Dean and I were not eleven or however old seventh grade was. We were adults. We were mates, and my patience was wearing thin.Do me a favor and do not tell him hello. Until he’s ready to act like a grown-up mate, I think I’m going to back off and stop chasing him. It shouldn’t be like this.
“Whatever you want,” Wendy said. “Let’s talk about something else. Because I’m starting to feel the same way. Mates belong together, and we’ve all made allowances for his upbringing, but it’s ripping you apart and, even if he doesn’t choose to recognize it, it’s doing the same to him.”
Another face appeared beside Christi’s in the box. I recognized him from the background of other chats, although he’d never spoken directly to me before. Samson. The alpha of Midnight Alder. “Jillian, Dean is a good man, and we all believe he will come around. Know that you have Midnight Alder’s full support, but I agree. His wolf is doing all the nagging anyone ever could or should.”
Did he mean I was nagging? I wanted to argue, but arguing with an alpha was usually a bad idea. Listening was a better one.
Yes, Alpha.
“Trust that everything will be fine. Go ahead with your life with your other two mates, but keep that place in your heart for Dean. And be careful. Dean has shared some of the things that happened there, with me. He’s worried.”
Not worried enough to come home. I couldn’t help it.
“Not until he feels like he will make you happy.”
Tears I’d been holding in spilled down my cheeks.Doesn’t he know all he has to do is be here?
“And accept being part of a harem.” The alpha stepped back and I heard all the mates leave, talking as they went. Joking and friendly.
“Jillian, if we can help with anything, let us know, okay?” Wendy waved and went dark, leaving me with just Christi’s window.
“He loves you,” she said. “And we had our struggles, too. Let’s find a way to get together in person, okay? We want to hug you.”
I’d love that.
I cried for an hour after that call. Despite their encouragement and reassurances, despite the alpha having my back, I’d begun to doubt that Dean would ever come home. And that space in my heart would fester, eventually, leaving me unfit to be with anyone.
Chapter Eight
I flip-flopped between anger and despair for Dean more than I wanted to. It plagued my thought so much, I hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep in days.
“Creek can come in. I mean, I don’t want him to think that he has to stay outside because of me.”
Shane had taken Dean’s place in my bed, which was fine with me since Dean was being a stubborn jackass.
