A Mate's Denial(19)

“And when she does?” he ground out. “What will you do then?”

The guy might as well have punched Trager in the gut. For the past four days, he’d tried hard not to think about that scenario. Because the truth was, he didn’t know. He didn’t know what he’d do if he had to live without her.

“It’s really none of your business.” He tried for a calm tone but didn’t quite pull it off.

Cael stared at him, clearly thinking something over. Then his brow relaxed a fraction. “I think you’d better go now,” he said. “Ravendale doesn’t need your kind around.”

Yeah. Trager was no fool. If this alpha was letting him go so easily, there was a reason for it. But that didn’t mean he was waiting around to find out. Buzz-cut looked like he was itching to teach someone a lesson.

With a quick glance at Asa—that hopefully conveyed that he should get his ass in gear and figure out a way to stop this war—Trager brushed past the big-ass duo and made his way toward the door.





Chapter Nine


There were decisions to make, and Kerrigan didn’t have enough brain power to make them no matter how much coffee she pumped into her system. She stared at the items she’d pulled from her kitchen cabinets, then at the two giant boxes on the floor. TRASH or KEEP. That was the question. Anything she couldn’t take with her on the plane to Alaska, would have to be shipped. Which was crazy expensive. And she wouldn’t need most of this stuff anyway until she could afford to get her own place. Until then, she’d be under good ol’ dad’s roof.

She glared at the Keurig. It had become her enemy. Sure, it still made wonderful coffee. But ever since Saturday, it was just an ugly reminder of him.

Trager. The bastard. Trager, the biker. Who set her ablaze, before discarding her with an empty promise to return. He’d seemed so… into her. Why hadn’t he come back?

Pitifully, she’d gone to the café every morning hoping to run into him. But he never showed. He’d just disappeared like a freaking Houdini stunt or something.

Figured.

Kerrigan slid everything from the counter and put it in the TRASH box. She’d give it to a shelter or something.

What kind of person was she? That she could be this torn up about a guy she’d barely known? But she did know things about him. She knew he was polite. More so than she was. She cringed at the way she’d spoken to him when they first met. She knew he wasn’t afraid to call her out when he thought she was being a judgmental ass. She knew he wasn’t going to shame her for wanting to eat. And she knew he found her attractive.

Or, she thought she knew that. What else was that soul-searing kiss about?

Her hands shook as she pulled more useless things from the cabinet.

She’d finally found someone who she connected with, who made her feel good, really good, and now…

Well, it didn’t matter because he wasn’t coming back. He’d probably just told her that so his leaving wouldn’t be awkward. Kerrigan smacked her forehead with her hand. Of course. He was polite. He wouldn’t just up and leave. He’d promise to be back. Like effing Arnold Schwarzenegger. And just like the Terminator, he wouldn’t.

Her shoulders sank. Damn.

Staring into the cabinet was even more depressing. Going home like this sucked. Sure, Braeh was ecstatic, and her dad hadn’t seemed upset by the idea. She’d only had to listen to one I-told-you-so this time. Surely, he was saving the majority of them for when she was trapped in Alaska. But for Kerrigan, it felt like admitting failure. It felt like reaching so far for something, catching it, and then letting it slip from your fingers. It felt like a bad dream she couldn’t crawl out of.

She slammed the cabinet closed and went into the living room. Boxes littered the floor. The apartment was in disarray, half-packed and all hot mess. Her flight left in seven days. She had exactly seven days to pack up her entire life and ship it to the top of the continent.

Instead of landing on the couch, where she wanted to sulk, she started yanking books off the shelf and shoving them in one of the many boxes. Hours passed while she cleared the shelf and her desk, and she came to a conclusion: It was better that Trager the Bastard didn’t come back. Nothing short of a job offer could stop her from going to Alaska. At least this way, she wouldn’t have to explain things to him.

Yes, this was the silver lining to a cloud called “Dreamy Lickable Dude Doesn’t Call Back”.

Kerrigan was sitting on her floor, sorting through pictures, when there was a quiet knock on the door. A glance at the clock told her it was nearly ten. It was probably Mrs. Marley. She liked to do late night baking, and sometimes ran out of ingredients. Kerrigan’s kitchen was the only thing open at this late hour.