Page 39 of Not My Mate

And whatever the angry sparks and our inability to ignore each other was between me and Russ. And even back when I was little, hiding and crying rather than telling my parents something was wrong, or that I needed help, or that I felt too stupid to understand something at school or about other children's behavior.

I'd always been an odd one, and I'd never really learned to stand up for myself or communicate my needs properly. Except around Russ, of course. But that was usually because my "needs" there involved biting him or knocking him over or telling him he was a piece of shit.

I felt a little bad for that — but only a little. He'd been pretty shitty to me for a long time.

"Does it make sense?" I implored Sahil. "Do you understand what I meant?"

"I think so. And I agree: you don't have to spend your life listening to other people tell you how you have to feel about the past, or making you relive it constantly. Your life is not your abuse; you are not just a victim. You've survived, and you're going to live a happy life now, even if it's not always easy and perfect. You have every right to feel that way. I'm so glad you've come to that realization and have let me in on it."

His eyes were too shiny; I had to look away again. I swallowed a couple of times and nodded. "I'm glad you understand."

"If anything changes, or if you want to find a counselor you can better connect with, one who doesn't ask you to constantly relive your pain, then that'll also be up to you. In the meantime, I'll cancel all outstanding appointments for you, if you'd like."

"I can do it," I said, surprising both of us. "I should do things for myself when I can."

"Yes," he agreed, and his smile was gentle and proud and kind, somehow not looking down on me or pitying me in the least.

This time, I pulled him into a hug instead of waiting for him to do it first.

He didn't press me about Russ, although I could almost feel his curiosity about how things were between us.

Over the phone, I'd asked him not to confront Russ for me after all; things were improving, and I was dealing with it myself. He'd agreed, of course. But of course he wanted to know more.

I needed to figure out more before I could tell him. Besides, this felt private, like maybe I didn't want to tell him. I'd aired my and Russ's dirty laundry often enough and flagrantly enough. I needed to let us handle it alone now.

Whether we really could be friends, or if the last few days had simply been a brief respite from the cold war, I would eventually find out. And whether he could actually be the friend of someone he still had feelings for.

In the meantime, Sahil and I walked slowly up to the big house arm in arm, talking about this and that. Somehow, it didn't bother me as much as usual that Grant Ralstead was there. I sat down with the two of them, joining in with their meal.

Russ didn't join us, and I didn't miss him. I had too much to figure out.

#

"Are you back on the team?" Kim asked casually as she cleaned under her nails with the tip of a Bowie knife. She was only acting unconcerned. Her nails were already completely clean. And she smelled...not distressed, maybe, but definitely not coolly unconcerned.

"Yes," I said. "For now, anyway. Probably for good."

"Does that mean you two are having sex, and you're going to stop fighting?" She gave me a narrow-eyed look. I couldn't tell if she was teasing or not, but I responded as if she was serious.

"No." I took a deep breath. "We are not having sex."

"You should. Maybe you'd stop snapping at each other all the time." She gave me a toothy grin that dared me to be offended by the suggestion.

"We're getting along much better now, thanks."

"Good, because I want the team to last — but not if it means endangering all of our lives because you two are too horny to pay attention." She flipped her knife over, caught it, and stalked away, looking like the deadly killer she was.

I stared after her, my mouth tightening, and shook my head. Of course we weren't horny for each other. At least, I wasn't.

I mean, we did get pretty intense, but that was just the anger and frustration and...dammit. What if that was what the frustration was about, at least on his part? Certainly not on mine.

I was a wolf. I was supposed to know these things. But I'd definitely missed that he was attracted to me, and had missed it for a long time. That made me feel a little stupid, but also a lot annoyed that he'd taken it for granted that I'd understand something like that. Really, when it came down to it, most wolf shifters assumed an awful lot about the world and other people — and, sometimes, they werewrong.

I tended to think "they" and "them" instead of "we" and "us" about wolf shifters, even though I was one. I'd always felt a little too odd around non-shifters, but I'd also never felt like I fit in with shifters. It was a strange feeling to have a foot in both worlds and not feel comfortable in either one.

My mind flitted back briefly to the wolf I'd seen in the zoo when I was young. It had been a part of my dreams for weeks afterwards. It had felt important and real in a way few other things did. I'd missed social cues, muddled through school, and tried to make sense of the world and hide from it in equal portions, but that wolf, and the way it had looked into my eyes, had made a soul-deep impression, even if I hadn't understood why then, and perhaps still didn't.

It wasn't a shifter; it had been pure animal. And yet, there had been a connection there, almost communication of some sort.