Page 6 of Plus-Size Bullied Mate

Staring into my drink instead of responding, I consider what that means and how I can make them feel that way.

“You’ll make mistakes. Hell, I did from day one, but that didn’t stop me from correcting them.” His mouth twitches faintly. “I still do, according to my mate.”

That earns a quiet chuckle out of me. “And she’s a saint for dealing with you.”

“That she is. I’ll be struck down if I ever claim otherwise.”

A rare warmth pulses briefly in my chest at all the memories I had with both him and Mary. Since my mom got along well with both of them, I spent a lot of time at their place and learned even more.

Cole sets his drink down and fixes me with the same look he used before difficult lessons. “One more thing.”

I sigh internally, giving him a flat look. “What is it this time?”

“Being alpha doesn’t mean carrying everything alone.”

“That sounds suspiciously healthy,” I murmur with a brow cocked in his direction.

“It means trusting your wolves, and knowing when to delegate even if your pride says otherwise.”

He narrows his eyes at my grunted response.

“I’m serious, Hunter. You’ve spent too many years operating like isolation keeps everyone safe. You thought that even before,” he tells me, not afraid to be frank with me. “You didn’t step into this role just to act alone. Don’t be like the Voss line.”

The words scrape against my instincts immediately, and the mention of Hayes only makes it worse.

Ever since Zane put him back in line, I’ve been trying to keep my mind off him, but I still can’t. Not while he’s out there, surely planning some kind of revenge. He’s been left unattended for too long, and by now, he’s an anomaly I can’t stand.

Cole may be right about my old habits, but I also know what it means to work with others now. I spent long enough with the guys to see how it benefits everyone. I just need to translate that into my own pack.

Familiar footfalls enter the room, and when I glance up, I catch my mom carrying two plates as if I haven’t eaten in weeks instead of hours.

“I brought your favorite,” she says immediately, offering me a far too generous helping of apple pie she made earlier. “And I don’t want to hear anything about staying trim. A little dessert never hurt anyone.”

Cole smirks openly into his glass, then gives her a murmured thanks.

A small part of me already regrets coming home. Slightly.

“Mom…”

“You barely touched your dinner.”

“I ate,” I tell her, even if it’s useless arguing with her about these things.

“You inhaled half a steak and called it enough. That’s hardly the portions you’re used to.”

With a sigh, I give her a deadpanned look. “I’m twenty-five.”

“And still terrible at taking care of yourself. I thought the military would’ve at least taught you that,” she says, using that nagging tone, but with a warmer expression, betraying how she just wants to tease me.

I can’t say it’s surprising that she made me one of my favorites within forty-eight hours of returning home. And like usual, that annoyingly fond sensation twists in my chest despite myself.

My mother looks the same as she did when I left for deployment years ago. Her hair is still just as dark and long, and her green eyes are intense yet filled with motherly warmth like sunlight streaking through the tree cover. She’s small in stature but capable of terrifying grown wolves when necessary.

Including me… especially me.

Her hand rises to cup my jaw briefly before I can dodge away, studying me closely. “You look tired.”

“I am tired.”