Chapter 28
YVAINE
Rudolph and I called each other every evening that week—a proper nightly ritual.
I’d sit curled up in some corner of my room with my monster-size book, repeating endless pages stuffed with medical terms, while he quizzed me with a degree of patience that deserved a medal.
Or at least free matcha for life. He listened, corrected me, challenged me with that annoyingly persuasive tone of his, and at times argued just for the sake of it—probably to make sure I was awake and not drooling all over the monster (book). I wondered if he even had friends.
Or if his mate knew how much we really talked.
I never would have dared to beg Lachlan or my friends for this kind of academic torture—they would’ve run back to the pack. But Rudy had offered, insisted, and never once made it feel like a chore. We were proper e-pen friends by now.
Oh, and no, he still hadn’t managed to get my mate’s number.
That afternoon, I finally stumbled out of the grandiose anatomy building like the survivor I was.
Two straight hours of a written test, with Sillas also present to collect and distribute the exam sheets, followed by a forty-five-minute oral exam.
Tiziano and Amaia were still stuck inside.
The moment my feet met sunlight, I dialed Rudolph. No hesitation; I needed to debrief.
The reindeer, who answered on the second ring, was apparently in a study room on DD’s campus—and, judging by how fast he picked up, he was doing zero studying, almost too keen to ditch his study group and group project. Again, he had to be a terrible student.
“I’m dead. I don’t think I can use an extra ounce of my mangled brain,” I muttered, dragging my legs as they reluctantly worked their way past a coffee cart being swarmed by a group of students looking equally devastated.
His deep chuckle buzzed through the line, making me purse my lips. “Congratulations, Bunny Doc. I’m proud of you and your scrambled-egg brain. You need to celebrate.”
After giving him a quick breakdown of the exam—without realizing how genuinely interested he was—we kept chatting as if neither of us had anything better to do.
“So, what’s on the schedule now?”
Ideally, a nap until next Tuesday.
“Lach promised to cook for me, and then we’ll probably watch a Western together, assuming we both stay conscious long enough.
” I rubbed at my temples. My brother was just as devastated by the combo of his midterm exams, the fierce wereball training, and the dreadful upcoming game.
“I haven’t seen him once this week, since he has training with the team every single day.
They’re working on a new strategy for the Dark Diamonds’ match,” I said without thinking. “Oops, sorry. Classified info.”
“New strategy, huh?” There was a short pause. I could practically hear the smirk through the phone. “What, Bunny Doc? You think I’d use illicit information against the Comets? I’m shocked. Wounded, even.”
“Who, you?” I snorted. “In your dreams, when you actually make it to the game.”
“That hurts, Bunny Doc. Especially from someone who’s never touched a wereball in her life.”
“You don’t even know how to play! And, even if you did know our new strategy, what are you going to do? Go to my mate and say, Oh, I heard from a Comet that the Comets have a new plan!”
“No, I don’t need to tell him,” he huffed. “Not when the captain is going to smash your Comety asses, turning them into cosmic crumbs of useless dirt.”
“A comet is a celestial object made of dust…and ice. And a tail of gas.”
“I’ll grab the tail, then.”
I snorted out a laugh. His voice was unknotting the string of tension in my spine.
His tone changed, lightening. “So, Sunday. You coming to the game? Cheering for your mate, I hope?”
“I’m not sure.” I chewed my lower lip, then nodded to some fellow students who greeted me. “Part of me can’t stand seeing Lach get bruised up or trashed on the field.”
There was an unclassified noise on the other line. “What about your mate? Not concerned if he gets hurt?”
I let out a nasal laugh that turned a few heads around me. The campus was packed—it was the five p.m. rush hour, with students and university staff moving through their own little private worlds and deadlines.
“He never gets hurt.”
“And how do you know that with such confidence, if you’ve never been to any of his games?”
Busted. “Well, maybe I asked around…or watched a few videos.” Many hours of videos. I called it educational stalking. Before he could say another word, laugh at me, or call me a stalker, I announced, “He’s my mate. I’m entitled to, um, some research.”
A low, slightly hoarse chuckle slipped through the line. “Sure you are…”
“Does your mate mind? That you’ve, you know, slept with girls before?” I asked as I dug through my bag for my keys, frowning when my fingers landed on everything except them.
“Would you mind?” he volleyed, cool and amused. “I mean, I didn’t know her before. And it’s not like I slept with that many.”
“Well, you can’t’ve slept with as many girls as the Terminator.
” I finally found the keys and pushed the building door open.
“Everyone has, at this point. And I just know there’ll be a million girls drooling all over his in-need-of-a-ladder body during the game.
” I massaged my chest absentmindedly. “That’s another reason I don’t want to go. I can’t stand that!”
Rudy chuckled, softer this time. “I’m sure he hasn’t noticed a single one of those girls since the moment he saw you, Bunny Doc! Besides, maybe he…wants to see you at the game?”
I scoffed, stepping into the stairwell. “Then explain the four girls I saw around him at the party! He didn’t exactly look miserable. Didn’t seem to care that he had a mate. Unless…he forgot. Oh, Stephen, what if he forgot me?”
He went silent for a beat.
“But they weren’t really touching him, right? And what was he supposed to do? Shove them away and staple a note to his chest that says, ‘Back off, I have a mate’?” He was being sarcastic, but it sounded like a great idea to me.
“Yes. If he loves me, he should,” I admitted without thinking.
“Well, maybe he will,” Rudy said.
“As if!”
“Yvaine…” He trailed off, pausing for a second or two. I could count his inhalations. “Ever thought your mate might not be with or talk to other girls at all?”
“And how would you know, Mr. Expert-of-Mates?”
He laughed huskily, before his voice dropped an octave. “Well, silly bunny, because you’d feel chest pain every time he’s with someone.”
Oh…true.
“The weird thing is, I used to feel these periodic chest discomforts. Not really pain, but they stopped after my first date with Sillas. It was weird. Made no sense. But I think it must’ve been the stress at school and the hospital…
” I trailed off. When I didn’t receive a response, I pulled the phone back to check if he was still there, then realized the line had gone dead.
I called him back, a little confused.
He picked up with a growl, breathing unevenly. “Sorry, I dropped my phone.”
“Are you okay, Rudy?” I asked, alarm creeping in.
“Yeah, yeah,” he snapped.
Rude!
“Right… Anyway, how do you know for sure that I’d feel pain? We haven’t mated.”
“I just know,” he said. Quiet. Absolute. Certain.
My curiosity was triggered.
“How?” I pushed, my voice softer now.
Another growl. This one sounded like it came from somewhere deeper—somewhere wounded. “Because it happened to me…when my mate went on a date with someone else, and they fucked. It felt like someone had punched me in my fucking heart.”
I gasped, both hands flying to my mouth. “Oh, Stephen! I’m so sorry!”
“I bet you are.” There was something strange in his tone—like maybe, just maybe, those words were meant for me.
“But why would she do that to you?”
At that, he blew out some repressed air. “She didn’t know we were mates yet.”
Oh. But how?
“But…did she know what she was doing to you?”
“I don’t think so.” His voice dipped again. Sad. Resigned.
“Maybe you should tell her. Explain. Make her understand that it hurt you…that it still hurts.” Pause. “How about you? Have you kissed anyone else since you met her?”
“No.” His reply was reply. “Since I figured out she was my mate, I couldn’t. Not that I’ve been interested in any other girl. I just want her.”
Silence stretched and stretched some more, until Lucien cleared his throat to say something unexpected.
“Hey…Bunny Doc,” he said, a little lighter now. “I’ve been thinking.”
“Dangerous,” I muttered.
He chuckled. “After the game. What do you say…we finally meet up?”
I blinked.
“What, like, in person?”
He laughed. “Yes, Ivy. In person. I think it’s time.”
When we ended the call, I lifted my phone, looking at the calendar reminder.
The game. The Dark Diamonds vs. The Comets.
“You can do it, Yvaine. One more challenge,” I told myself, but I wasn’t any closer to believing it. “This is just another game. It’s no big deal.”
Except, it was a big deal.
LOGAN
“I know what you did last night.”
I glanced up at Callum as I raked my hand through my hair like it was grass. He showed me the incriminating scene, his black nail polish contrasting with the violet background on his screen.
It was a picture of me taken from the side, silver bag dangling from one hand, pack cap low, hoodie up. Tagged by Cuchuri58.
“You went to Mua Mua Bakery the other night at 2:54 a.m.” He paused, lips flattening. “Without us.”
I did go to Mua Mua. Just not for me.
“Sorry, C.” I clasped his sweaty arm. “Next time, I’ll swing by your room with a delivery in the middle of the night.”
Just then, Killian—four trees stuffed under each of his arms—stumbled in and dropped them near us, collapsing against my side like a dying animal. “Water me! My arms are pudding.”
I grabbed a water bottle and poured it into his gaping mouth. A river flowed down his chin and over the number nineteen on his wereball jersey.