Page 37

No. No, no, no.

I wasn’t his mate. I couldn’t be. Not to a demon. Not after everything.

My breath came sharp and uneven as the weight of his words crashed into me. The walls of his old childhood room suddenly felt suffocating, the air too thick, the memories clinging to the space like cobwebs I couldn’t brush away.

I turned on my heel, my sneakers scuffing against the dusty floorboards. Without another word, I stormed out.

Ethan called my name, but I ignored him. My mind was a storm, raging and relentless. My pulse pounded in my ears as I shoved past the broken doorframe, down the creaking stairs, and out into the cold night. The wind bit at my skin, but I barely felt it.

This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening.

I wasn’t his mate.

I retraced our path back to the motel, my thoughts spiraling with each step. The overgrown grass tangled around my ankles, and the streetlights cast long, flickering shadows on the pavement. I hated how much I had let myself lower my guard, how much I had let him in, even just for a moment.

The motel came into view, its neon sign buzzing softly in the otherwise quiet night. I climbed back through the window and into our shared room, but sleep didn’t come. How could it? My mind refused to let me rest, replaying Ethan’s words over and over again like a curse I couldn’t shake.

I kept waiting to hear the window creak, for Ethan to climb back inside. But the night stretched on, and he never came.

The unease settled deep in my bones. He had to come back eventually, right?

For a fleeting second, I felt like turning to check whether he was back, but then I stopped myself. No. I refused to dwell on it. I refused to care.

When morning finally arrived, I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the wall, feeling more exhausted than when I had laid down.

The dim motel light cast soft shadows over the room, but I didn’t turn to see if Ethan had slipped in at some point while I wasn’t paying attention. I didn’t want to know.

But he was there. He had come back. I didn’t speak to him. Not as I grabbed my bag. Not as I walked out the door. Not as I stepped onto the bus.

The others were chattering, shoving bags into overhead compartments, claiming their seats. Joy waved a hand in front of my face, saying something about breakfast, but I barely heard her. My focus was set on one thing—avoiding Ethan.

I spotted him out of the corner of my eye, his usual confidence replaced by something quieter, more unreadable. He hesitated before stepping onto the bus, and for a brief moment, I thought he might say something. I steeled myself, ready to ignore him, to shut him out completely.

But he didn’t speak. Instead, he simply walked past me, slipping into a seat near the back.

I exhaled sharply and took the first available seat, as far from him as I could get.

The bus rumbled to life, pulling away from the motel and back onto the road. Outside, the scenery blurred past in streaks of green and gray, but I barely saw any of it. My fingers curled into my tablet, my stomach twisting in knots I couldn’t untangle.

Ethan thought I was his mate.

And no matter how much I denied it, no matter how much I wanted to pretend it wasn’t real, the way my chest had tightened when he looked at me told a different story.

I wasn’t ready to face that truth.

So, I didn’t.

After ages of travel, the bus rumbled to a stop in front of Paramount High just as the last streaks of sunlight faded into the horizon. The school parking lot, usually empty at this hour, was dotted with waiting cars and familiar figures. My stomach twisted as I spotted them—my parents.

They stood near the entrance, bundled up against the cool evening air, their faces breaking into relieved smiles the moment they saw me. My mother was the first to move, crossing the distance with quick steps, arms open wide.

“Clark!” she called, and before I could react, I was enveloped in the familiar warmth of her embrace. The scent of her lavender perfume clung to her coat, and for the first time in days, I felt like I was really home.

My father patted my back firmly. “Welcome back, son.” His voice held the weight of emotions he wouldn’t outright express, but I caught the way his grip lingered on my shoulder.

Before I could respond, Joy was suddenly swept into a hug as well, my mom laughing as she squeezed her. “Oh, sweetheart! How was the trip? You didn’t let Clark sulk too much, did you?”

“Who, me?” Joy feigned innocence, shooting me a teasing grin. “I think he did just fine sulking on his own.”

Shun, standing beside us, gave my mother a polite nod, and she reached out to pull her into a brief hug as well. Shun stiffened at first, then hesitantly returned the gesture.

“Glad you both made it back in one piece,” my father added, his sharp gaze flickering over me as if scanning for hidden injuries. “No trouble?”

No trouble. The words tasted bitter on my tongue. I glanced away, my fingers curling into my sleeves. “None worth mentioning.”

I wasn’t about to explain the way my mind had been unraveling the past few hours, the intrusive thoughts that wouldn’t stop gnawing at me. I definitely wasn’t about to talk about Ethan.

Instead, I focused on the relief in my parents’ eyes, the way my mom reached up to brush my messy hair from my face as if she could smooth away the exhaustion that clung to me.

“Clark!” boomed a familiar voice, and I turned just in time to be pulled into another hug—this time by Joy’s dads, Mike and Darren. Darren ruffled my hair, and Mike clapped my shoulder with all the energy of a man who still ran marathons.

“You’ve grown taller since the last time I saw you, or is that just the stress stretching you out?” Mike joked.

Darren was already scooping Joy into a double-dad hug. “We missed you, kiddo. And yes, we’ve both agreed we’re tagging along next time. No negotiations.”

“I second that,” added another voice—calmer, steadier. Shun’s mom, Ms. Kawahara, stepped forward with a quiet smile and a knowing look. She gave Shun a warm, one-armed hug, and then looked over at the rest of us. “It’s good to see all of you safe.”

There was a moment—fleeting but familiar—when all the parents gathered, forming a tight little semicircle of comfort and nostalgia.

“They remind me so much of us back in middle school,” my mom said, eyes twinkling as she glanced around the group.

“Except with fewer broken curfews,” Mike added, smirking.

“And more detentions,” Ms. Kawahara added.

They all laughed—an easy, shared sound built from years of friendship.

Our parents had known each other since we were in middle school, their bond formed in the same classrooms, through PTA meetings, school trips, and the chaos that came with raising kids like us.

Somewhere along the line, their friendships mirrored ours—messy, loyal, unshakable.

For a brief moment, the world felt whole. And safe.

Even if my insides were still frayed and knotted with things I couldn’t say out loud… it helped to be home.

“We should get going,” my father said after a moment of banter, nodding toward the car. “You must be tired.”

I was. More than tired. But, still, I wasn’t sure sleep would come easily.

We walked to the car together, leaving Joy, Shun, and their parents still caught up in stories and laughter.

I stayed mostly quiet, my thoughts louder than the hum of the engine, watching the school shrink into the distance.

Home was waiting. Familiar. Predictable. But something in me tugged backward—as if I’d left a piece of myself behind in that motel room. Something unsaid. Unfinished.

Or rather, someone.