Chapter 7
seven
Morgan
Sleep, when it comes, is troubled. I'm pretty sure my wolf feels like she's been partly rejected, because our mate’s not in bed with us after claiming us.
But then again, we never really got claimed, did we?
Just fucked. Anybody can get fucked. Which makes me think that there's something wrong with me after all; that there's something within me that Alex finds lacking.
Why else would he not have bitten me? I was all but begging him to the entire time we were locked together, bearing my neck as often as I could, holding his face to my neck when he started kissing me.
All that means is I really can't get comfortable here. As much as he said this is my home now, it still doesn't feel like it. And I don't know what's going to change that.
I don't even find any remnants of him when I finally get out of bed and stretch, no wolf fur that was shed inadvertently, no hint of the green apple scent that always lingers behind him.
After giving myself a few moments to wake up, I was planning to get right into my schoolwork and focus so I could get as much done as possible today. Keeping my mind busy seems to be the only way to keep it off of Alex. Which feels like something that's important to do now more than ever.
Except that when I get downstairs, he's still there. He's sitting at the dining room table, staring off into the backyard. Kind of looks like shit.
“Good morning.”
He startles, and that's when I realize he's wearing the same clothes that he was wearing last night. He looks at me as if he has no idea how I got in front of him and checks the clock on the microwave. “Oh, didn't realize what time it was. Good morning, Morgan.”
He extends an arm for me, encouraging me to come closer so he can hug me, but even that is a little lackluster.
His eyes are blank as he stares past me. “Look, I have to go out of town for a bit. I know it's not ideal, but it's unavoidable.”
It feels like knives are carving into my throat as I swallow.
I hate that I have to be vulnerable, but I also have to ask, or else I'll be wondering later. “Any way I could come with you? I can take that laptop with me and do my work wherever you need to go.” Desperate? Maybe. I don’t want it said though that I didn’t try.
He grimaces, and I know the answer is no. I step back and tell myself that it's fine. It's fine my fated mate doesn't want me. It's fine that he’s running off the morning after he finally got to mate with me. It's fine that he's leaving me alone.
“There's a folder on my desk for you. Don't argue.
I got you a card attached to my account, so that you can get whatever you need while I'm gone.
I want you to use it, Morgan. Please, use it.
There's some cash there too, just in case.
And next to that is a phone. It's already set up. That way I can call you when I have a chance since your other one is a piece of shit.”
I spin slowly, ignoring the unnecessary barb, empty mug still in my hand. I can't quite seem to figure out what to do with it. “Where are you going?”
He looks at me, eyes no longer blank, but pitying, and I know in that moment he has no intention of coming back. I sink to the kitchen floor, the mug I’ve now forgotten smashing into the tile next to me. I make myself small, I cover my face.
“God damn it, Morgan. You're going to cut yourself apart. I need you to take care of yourself. It's important.” He crawls closer to me, reaching for me, but I flinch. I don't want him to touch me.
“Can you just tell me why? What did I do wrong? Because I thought...” my voice gets quieter, because I'm embarrassed; no, humiliated. These aren’t words I ever thought I'd have to say out loud.
“I thought you wanted me. I thought you were going to make me happy.
For once in my fucking life, I thought I was getting something good.
But you're no different, are you? It's because of who I am, isn't it? Because I'm a half-breed?”
His silence is loud enough. His words, when he finds them, are even louder. “It's not that simple.”
“It is. It really is, actually. Why don't you stay, and I'll go. I'm not going to live in your fucking house, smelling you and seeing all your shit when you can’t even stand the sight of me.”
“Morgan, don't be ridiculous. I can provide you with a home.”
“Well seeing as you took my other one away, you're going to, but it's not going to be this one.
I can't do much about who I am. If you hadn't come in and fucked everything up, I wouldn't even need you to help me get a new home and a new job.
So, you can at least do that for me. And then you'll never have to hear from me again. Give me the means you took away and it will be like I never existed.”
Dying inside but determined to not give up all of my dignity, I stand on shaky legs to sweep up my mess. I don't even care that he has a small cut on his palm from a shard of the mug I dropped.
His sighs get deeper, but there's no retort on his lips.
I think it's now that I realize this is what he wanted to hear.
He wanted me to give up first, so that he could say he fought my leaving.
In fact, I bet there's already instructions in the so-called file folder for me on his desk with an address and a signed a lease.
Fuck the broom. I sprint down the hall, needing to see that file folder. Because if he signed a lease for me, I need to know when. Was it before or after he took my body? Does that even matter? Did he ever have any intention of keeping me? How was I dumb enough to believe him so easily?
My hands shake when I pick up that folder, and it's weird that this is my future. Whatever is about to happen to me is within this re-used paper folder. Seems unfair that something so innocuous can be that important.
I have to look.
The money's on top in a thin envelope, right on top of a brand-new sparkling credit card still glued to the paper the bank sent it on, and I ignore the shiny phone case. Don't need any way of getting ahold of him. Like I'd want to talk to him? Don’t know anybody else.
And there. Behind the money he was trying to give me to make himself feel better, is a manila envelope that's too thick to not have a lease agreement in it. In fact, I can hear keys in it.
I tear the envelope because I don't want to be careful right now. The address is a town over, so at least I'll finally get that start over I wanted.
It's a townhouse, not an apartment, which is an upgrade. The pictures on the listing are beautiful. But it's completely empty. Sure, it comes furnished, but what the hell am I going to do in an empty townhouse in a town where I know nobody?
And I’ll never get to use it. It's dated two days after he made me move in with him. So this was his plan along. It makes all his gaslit words of assurance pure betrayal, and makes me a fool.
I knew this was all too good to be true. This is the last time I allow anyone to silence the voice in my head that’s telling me to stop and think.
He has the audacity to walk into the office, to check on me. It's his fault that his massive fucking blown glass paperweight gets chucked at his head. Too bad he's got the reflexes to dodge it, though.
I take a deep breath and start walking. “Well, I'm proud of you for hanging on as long as you did there, buddy. Make sure the next girl that comes in knows how admirable you can be.”
I walk out. I don't look at him again; I simply walk out his back door and don't stop.
“Morgan! Get your ass back here. Where the hell are you going?”
“Wherever you aren't.” I shift, not giving a fuck about the clothes I had on, because that's just one less thing to carry and take care of.
I take off, and he gives chase for maybe a half hour, until he realizes how serious I am about leaving.
In the end, I guess that's all I was worth. A 30-minute chase. But hey, I'm lucky, right? For having someone like him in my life.