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As we dig into the meal, complimenting each other's culinary skills and making idle small talk, I can't shake the nagging sensethat something significant remains unspoken. Ryan's gaze flits to me occasionally, laden with unvoiced questions and a longing that mirrors my own.
The need for secrecy surrounding our relationship gnaws at me. Why hasn't he been open about our relationship? Is he ashamed? Embarrassed by the idea of a human mate?
I push the food around my plate, my appetite waning as doubts cloud my mind. Across the table, Elder Thorne's watchful eyes seem to bore into me, as if sensing my inner turmoil.
After what feels like an eternity of forced pleasantries, Hannah excuses herself to take care of some pack business. Elder Thorne follows suit, leaving Jenna and Ryan alone at the table.
"Let me help you clean up," Ryan offers, his voice a low rumble.
I force a tight smile. "No, it's okay. Cleaning up is part of my way of showing appreciation. Plus..." I hesitate, averting my gaze. "I could use a little time alone, if you don't mind."
A flicker of concern crosses his rugged features, but he simply nods. Rising from the table, he brushes a calloused thumb over my cheek in a tender caress. "Don't be too long," he murmurs before exiting the dining room, leaving me alone with my turbulent thoughts.
With a heavy sigh, I begin clearing the table, stacking dishes with methodical movements as my mind whirls. My relationship with Ryan is intense, passionate—a raging storm that both exhilarates and terrifies me. There are moments when his devotion seems unshakable. Yet, just as swiftly, doubt creeps in—the pack's disdain for humans, his reluctance to acknowledge our bond publicly. In those moments, I feel adrift, clinging to fleeting fragments of hope amidst the churning sea of uncertainty.
As I load the dishwasher and wipe down the counters, I can't shake the persistent worry gnawing at me. What if the pack never accepts me? What if Ryan decides I'm not worth the turmoil of an interspecies relationship? The thought of losing him, of having my heart shattered into pieces yet again, is almost too much to bear.
But then I recall the tenderness in his touch, the way his eyes soften when he looks at me—as if I'm the most precious thing in his world. There's an undeniable depth to our connection, a bond that transcends mere physical desire.
Drying my hands, I take a steadying breath. I have to trust him, trust that he'll find a way to make this work, no matter the obstacles. It's a terrifying leap of faith, one that leaves me vulnerable and exposed. But if I don't take that chance, I'll forever wonder "what if?"
As I pass by Ryan's study, muffled voices halt me in my tracks. It's Hannah and Ryan. Their voices are hushed but the frustration and urgency punctuating their tones is unmistakable.
"I just don't understand what you're playing at with Jenna," Hannah's voice drifts through the cracked door, laced with accusation and concern.
"I'm not playing at anything, Hannah," Ryan's deep voice responds, a baritone rumble that fills me with a bitter mix of longing and dread. His words hang in the air, their implications sending a chilling wave down my spine.
"But you know, Ryan," Hannah continues, her voice dropping to a whisper, "you can't take a human mate."
An icy pit forms in my stomach as I strain to hear Ryan's response. His voice is low and filled with an unmistakable pain. "I know, Hannah. I know…"
The room spins as his words hit me with the force of a physical blow. All I can hear is his confession, his admission that we can’t be together.
I sink against the wall, the cold plaster grounding me as I wrestle with the torrent of emotions that his confession unleashes. His caring for me was real, but so too, apparently, were the barriers that stood between us.
Tears prick at the corners of my eyes as I struggle to make sense of it all: the secret love, the forbidden relationship, the future we could never have. It feels like a cruel joke, a harsh reality that I'm not prepared to face. But face it, I must.
With a heavy heart, I quietly move away from the door, my mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. A single, devastating realization settles amidst the turmoil: I can't stay here. Not when every look, every word from Ryan, will be a painful reminder of what we can never have.
As I retreat to the sanctuary of my room, I allow myself a moment of weakness, letting the tears fall freely. My hands tremble as I clutch my phone and make a call.
Swallowing hard, I try to compose myself enough to speak. "Sarah? It's me..." I choke out, my voice thick with emotion.
"Jenna? Oh my god, what's wrong?" Her concern is palpable even through the phone.
I take a shuddering breath, struggling to find the words to express the anguish tearing me apart. "It's Ryan... I think... Ithink he's been playing me this whole time." The confession leaves me feeling raw, exposed.
There's a heavy pause before Sarah responds, her voice soft but laced with a protective edge. "What happened? Tell me everything."
And so I do, the words tumbling out in a torrent as I recount the overheard conversation, my growing fears that Ryan never truly cared for me. That our bond, the thing I cherished most, was just a game to him. By the time I finish, I'm sobbing uncontrollably, my heart shattered into a million pieces.
"Oh, Jenna..." Sarah's sympathy washes over me, offering little comfort. "You know what? Get your things together. You're coming to stay with me for a few days, at least until you can figure out what you want to do next."
Relief mingles with the ache in my chest at her offer. I need distance, space to process the maelstrom of emotions threatening to consume me. With a trembling voice, I accept, "Okay... Okay, I'll pack a bag."
Ending the call, I move through the room like a ghost, mechanically gathering my belongings. My chest constricts as I think about having to say goodbye to Hannah, to the pack that had become a second family to me.
But what choice do I have? I can't stay here, can't bear to face Ryan and the constant reminder of his betrayal.
