Page 20 of Not My Mate

He glanced at me, then away.

"I'm going to shower too," I announced.

He waved a hand dismissively and walked away. He didn't care what I did. Why should he?

I took a quick shower, tormented by the smell of my mate still lingering in the wet room. Even now, he smelled sad, but I was no longer afraid for his life. That feeling had passed during the night. With sleep, he had passed the most dangerous point. That didn't mean I wanted to be away from him; I needed to take care of him for a little while longer. He needed me, whether he admitted it or not.

I had to be there, in case he was in danger — or a danger to himself.

I needed to keep an eye on him. Just for a bit longer.

When I was out and changed, Charlie wasn't in the house. "Where is he?" I asked Mom after hurrying down the stairs to the kitchen. "He hasn't left already?"

"He's out working on that blasted truck," she said, shaking her head. "I don't think anything's going to fix it this time."

Mom had always hated Aaron's truck. She thought it put her boy at risk. She wasn't wrong, really.

I started to head that way, but she put a hand on my arm. "Honey, I need to talk to you."

"Yes, Mom." I stilled. I knew what was coming, but I could still give her the respect of listening. After all, she was probably right about me, too.

But she didn't say what I had expected. "You need to take care of that boy. Nobody ever has before. Respect him, don't push him, but take care of him. Protect him till he figures out what he wants. Even if it's never going to be you — and that's probably the case — you won't regret it. You were right to follow him last night. Don't leave his side yet."

"I won't, Mom."

Would Dad be annoyed that she was telling me the opposite thing from what he'd said? Except she wasn't, not really. Neither of them believed Charlie would ever love me back, and I didn't, either. Dad just thought it would be easier for both of us if I walked away from him altogether, while Mom thought I was right to stay close until he was okay again, for as long as he needed.

He would never admit to needing me, of course. But right now, he did.

I gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, grateful beyond measure that at least one of my family members understood. Then I ran off to find my mate.

My friend. My enemy. Whatever he was, I still loved him. And he wasn't going to get hurt again, not on my watch.

I found him bending over the open front of the truck, working away industriously. I tried not to ogle his ass. He had a nice one, cute and muscular, and it would have looked even better without those jeans hugging it. I resisted, as always, the urge to give him a swat or a squeeze, and instead stayed back where my hands couldn't get me into trouble. I crossed my arms just in case.

"Do you want me to take a different flight back so you don't have to sit next to me?"

"I never have to sit next to you," he said coldly, wrenching at something.

Great. We were back to sparring, and less friendly than ever. He was never going to forgive me, was he? I would just have to live with that. He didn't like me. He didn't trust me. He wouldn't forget everything I'd ever done to him, not one little bit of it.

"Are you leaving?" I asked.

"I'm not going home. I'm going to visit my parents."

"Oh. That's — that's good."

I couldn't follow him there, could I? Perhaps from a distance. But maybe he really didn't need me, if he'd have their support. Maybe they'd help him keep his will to live and get over what I'd done and what someone else had done to him.

You need to take care of that boy. Nobody ever has before.

Mom's words echoed in my head, and I gulped. "Can I come along?" I asked softly. "I feel like you need me to watch your back."

"I don't." He wrenched again, and something clattered inside the truck, which made me wince. "You can come along if you keep your hands to yourself. And your fucking mouth."

That made me blush a little, even though I knew he didn't mean the sort of thing I was thinking of. I really wanted to do things to him with my mouth. But if even a kiss was like torturing him, then yeah, it wasn't ever going to happen.

I swallowed. "Okay. I'd like that. To meet your family, I mean."