Mate (Bride, #2) (126)

Push.

Read. Sleep. Find some remote finance job and pull my weight.

Push.

I can’t be used against you if no one knows that I exist. So really, this is the best solution for all of us.

Push, push, push, push—

Two things happen in rapid succession. First, the spring mechanism in the toaster gives out. Then the door opens. When I whirl around, Koen is at the entrance. His eyes linger on my face for a moment, then flick to my fingers.

Which are still grasping the lever.

Which has fallen off.

“It’s not what it looks like,” I blurt out, feeling caught red-handed, even more than when Misery saw me draw hearts around Mr. Lumiere’s name.

Koen nods, closing the door behind him. He looks . . .

I want to throw myself at him. I want to bite his neck and squeeze him and inhale his scent so deep, it’ll never leave my lungs. Instead I take in his long-suffering expression and try not to flinch.

“I think your toaster is broken,” I inform him.

“You don’t say.”

“No, I mean— it was broken before.”

“Was it?” His gaze travels to a spot on the counter. I follow it, and . . .

Okay. Fine. The damn toaster wasn’t plugged in, and I have learned nothing. Cool. “You, um, might need a new one,” I say, with all the dignity I can muster. Which is appallingly little. “Because I’m a generous person, I will pay for it.”

“Will you.”

“Yeah. I’ll even go buy it at the store.” I hold out my hand. Why am I close to tears? “Give me the keys to your car.”

“You want to break that, too?”

I wince but stubbornly don’t retract my arm. Koen never gives over his car keys, but he does reach for my hand and pull me into him.

He has held me many times, but never like this— so close, it almost hurts, like he’s trying to swallow me inside his body. “There’s always something with you, huh,” he mumbles, for the fifth or millionth time. And for the fifth or millionth time, I melt into him and forget that there’s a whole shitty world out there.

“I’m sorry,” I say. It comes out muffled against his flannel.

“About what?”

“I don’t know. Everything?”

“Hmm.” The sound reverberates through me. “The thing is, I don’t think any of what happened is for you to feel sorry for. Aside from the toaster.”

He picks me up, one arm under my knees, and carries me outside to sit us on a chair on his porch. My head fits perfectly under his chin, my legs drape across his thighs, and this is a terrible idea. Anyone could see us.

But I’ll be gone in what, twenty-four hours? If it’s all going to shit anyway, let it go to shit while I’m in his lap.

“Can I tell you something?” I force myself to say before I lose the courage. “And it’s not . . . I’m not asking for anything. I just want you to know, because . . . I just think that maybe you’d enjoy knowing?”

His chin bumps against the crown of my head. A nod.

“I was wrong. When I said that you weren’t my mate, even if I was yours. And I know what you’re thinking: ‘No, you idiot, you just fell in love with me like any regular person would, that’s what happens when two people who like each other spend time together,’ but this is . . . more. I liked you from the very start, in a way that had never happened to me, and all these feelings . . . I don’t think I have the words to explain, but I . . .”

His chest bounces under my ear. I pull back to find that he’s laughing silently.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “I’m just glad you figured it out.”

“You mean, you knew?”

“Not for sure. But there were signs.”

“Oh.” I blink. “Really?”

“Serena, our first meeting sent you into Heat.”

I flush. “Well, we don’t know that. It could have been a coincidence.”

He looks doubtful. “Seriously. Maybe Alex the IT guy sent me into Heat.”

“Yeah. Except, you couldn’t bear to be touched by anyone but me.” A smile plays at the corners of his eyes. “People without mates are much less discerning when they’re in that situation, believe me.”

“Oh.” I stare into the distance, then back at him. “So . . . you are my mate?”

“We might never know, since your biology is different from a full Were’s. I don’t care very much, because . . .”

“Because?”

“Because you’re perfect.”

I lower my eyes, feeling too full of . . . of everything to hold Koen’s gaze. “Well. I guess it doesn’t matter much. I didn’t tell you, because . . . I wasn’t trying to give you a reason to step down.”

“Good. Because I’m not stepping down.”

I swallow past the lump in my throat. It’s fine. Better than fine, it’s exactly what I wanted. Koen, staying with the Northwest. The right thing to do. “Good,” I echo. I need to change the topic, before I beg him to do something he really shouldn’t. “Were the huddle leaders fuckwaffles about .

. . stuff?”

“No more than usual. They said that I’m emotionally compromised over you. Which is true.” His thumb traces my lower lip. “Has been true for a while, really.”