The Fake Mate(97)

I’m not letting you get away from me, Mackenzie.

I laugh under my breath as I head for the elevators. Turns out . . . he pushed me away himself.



* * *





?It’s cold outside the entrance of the hospital where I’m waiting for Parker after my shift, the evening lights turning on and the sky darkening above as the temperature drops. I rub my hands together and breathe on them as I lean against the wall outside the door, eyeing the large bushes a few yards away.

It feels a lot like that first morning I met Noah here after we entered our arrangement, and there is a small, pathetic part of me that imagines that he might walk out of the doors at any moment. Which I know is out of the question; I haven’t seen him since that day at the café. He made sure of that when he put in his resignation the very next day.

Even knowing that, I startle as the automatic doors creak open beside me, jumping a little when someone steps out who is neither Noah nor Parker, but just as familiar.

“Mack?”

I haven’t really spent any time with Liam since the day that Noah kissed me in the hallway; things felt awkward after Priya informed me that Liam might have feelings for me. I still don’t know if there’s any truth to that, and with everything that’s happened since . . . I haven’t had the emotional capacity to even consider dealing with the possibility.

“Hey,” I greet. “Did you just get off?”

He nods. “Just now. You?”

“Little while ago. I’m waiting for Parker.”

“Oh.” He looks at his feet, shuffling his weight from one foot to the other. “I haven’t seen you lately.”

“Oh, yeah, well . . .” I avert my eyes. “I’ve been busy.”

“I also heard Dr. Taylor put in his resignation.”

This makes me wince, and I will my expression to stay neutral. “Right. He got a great offer over in Albuquerque. Couldn’t afford to pass it up.”

“And are you . . . moving with him?”

I force a smile, waving him off. “No, no. Nothing like that. At least not right now. We’re going to do the whole long-distance thing until we work out the details.”

Look at me. Still lying, even now. Still keeping up with the ruse for Noah’s benefit. Even when there’s no reason to anymore.

“Oh. I thought . . .” Liam reaches to rub at the back of his neck. “You’ve just seemed really down lately. I thought something might have happened.”

I suck in a breath. “Have I?”

“I notice these things,” he says quietly.

His eyes meet mine, and there’s a melancholy there that is unlike him. His normally warm brown eyes are duller, his mouth that is so quick to smile is etched into a deep frown. “Right,” I say, unsure of what else I can. “Well . . . things have been complicated.”

Complicated.

I could almost laugh out loud at the irony of it.

“Is it about Noah?”

I clench my jaw, turning to look ahead so that I don’t have to face him. “Why would you think that?”

“I’m sorry, Mackenzie. I don’t want to be an asshole . . . but something has been weird about the whole thing. I just . . . I can’t picture it. And now he’s leaving you here? How could someone abandon their mate like that?”

Again there is that manic urge to laugh, because it had been incredibly easy for Noah to up and leave me, considering I was never his mate to begin with.

“He isn’t . . .” My voice sounds too thick. “He isn’t exactly . . .”

“Mack,” Liam says gently, reaching out a hand to touch my shoulder. “I know I should have said something sooner, but I . . . I care about you. More than just as a coworker. And I—” He makes a frustrated sound. “I would never make you look like you do now. Fucking miserable.”

I look at him then, really look at him, and in another life, Liam would be the perfect partner. He’s kind and considerate and perfectly wonderful—but the awful truth of why I can’t be with him in the way that he wants is made glaringly obvious by the first thought that pops into my head, even if it makes no sense.

He’s not Noah.

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly, looking down at my feet. “I can’t.”

It’s not exactly a real answer, but I think he discerns my meaning all the same, if the way he draws back his hand is any indication. I hear him breathe deep, just to let it out, and when I peek over at him I catch him nodding.

“Right,” he says softly. “Right. Of course. Sorry, I . . . I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No, I appreciate it, I—” I huff. “That’s a terrible thing to say. I’m sorry. Listen, Liam, you are . . . amazing, and anyone would be lucky to have you, but I—”

“Love Noah,” he finishes, sounding wistful. “I get it. You can’t fight love.”

I stare back at him dazedly, trying to process this.

Love?

As much as I’ve been wallowing, as much as the loss of Noah has wounded me—I haven’t once considered that it could be so terrible because I love him. That’s impossible . . . isn’t it? There hasn’t been enough time for love. It’s just . . . impossible.