Not-So-Fated Mates

Chapter 33: Truth Hurts

Drake POV

When Drake got up in the morning, he was exhausted. He hadn’t slept all night, tossing and turning in his bed. Unlike every other night since he’d been there, he’d actually slept in his own bed, in his own room, alone, and it had been hell. Apparently, he’d already become accustomed to having Layla sleeping next to him, usually curled into him, enough so that her not being there had caused issues. Of course, it didn’t help that she’d seemed off ever since she’d come back from talking to Chelsea in the bathroom.

After they’d all gotten back to the pack house, when Jackson and Chelsea had gone off to spend some time alone together for the last night they’d see each other for a while, Layla had promptly ducked out to see to the issue she’d told him about at the bar with barely a goodbye. It had seemed oddly cold, though he wasn’t sure if he was just imagining it or not. He’d tried, numerous times throughout the night, to figure out if he’d done something to upset her, but nothing came to him. As far as he could tell, everything had been fine before she went after her friend. So what the f**k had happened?

He groaned, rubbing his face. He definitely hadn’t gotten enough sleep for this. He needed some f*****g coffee. After getting dressed and splashing some cold water on his face to help him stay awake, he left the room. He paused in front of Layla’s door, uncertain for the first time in years. Should he knock on the door? Invite her to breakfast? He wasn’t even sure when she’d gone to bed last night, and if she’d be ready to wake up. At the same time, though, he was scheduled to leave not long after breakfast, and he really wanted to see her before he left. He didn’t want to be selfish, but he was also dying to know what was going on with her that had made her so stand-offish last night.

He raised his hand to knock just as Chelsea’s voice came from behind him. “She’s already out taking care of a few things.”

He turned to see a strange look on his best friend’s mate’s face. What looked like a mixture of pity and anger shone in her eyes, but her face seemed to have been forced into a blank look, a feeble attempt at hiding the fact that she knew something he didn’t. “Oh, okay,” he said, his brows scrunched in confusion. “Is there any reason you have that weird look on your face?”

Chelsea sighed heavily before looking into his eyes, “It’s not my place to say anything, sorry.”

“So there is something going on,” Drake stated instead of asking.

Chelsea nodded as Jackson came up behind her. “Even if there is, what are you going to do about it, dude?” Jackson asked him wearily. At the nasty look on Drake’s face, Jackson put his hands up, saying, “Just stating the obvious. We’re leaving soon, and based on what you told me last night, does it even matter?” Chelsea looked at Drake, growling softly until Jackson put his arm around her waste and set his cheek against the top of her head.

“Ugh, whatever,” Drake growled, walking away, not liking that it felt like they were ganging up on him, no matter how subtle it was. Drake had known Jackson long enough to have heard the passive aggressive bite in his words, to know that his friend was angry at him for hiding from whatever it was he felt for the girl who was currently MIA. What in the f**k did they expect him to do? She had her own place in this pack, and a very important one, to boot. Was he supposed to just uproot her, take her with him, just so they could continue f*****g? She deserved more than that. She deserved someone who could give themselves to her, mate her, love her like she deserved to be. He just couldn’t offer that.

Yes, he could admit that, once upon a time, he could’ve given that to her. After tossing and turning all night, he’d finally managed to admit to himself how badly he wanted to love her. And yes, he did love her, but it would never be what she deserved. He was a broken bastard. Jess had made sure she broke every bit of him that had ever had even the slightest chance of being good enough for a woman like Layla. As sad as it was that a woman who, he had realized, never deserved his love had gotten it and taken away every chance of someone more deserving receiving it, it was just a fact.

He chuckled darkly at the irony of it all as he proceeded to pour himself some coffee, not bothering to put his usual sugar in it. He needed the bitterness right now. It seemed like the only thing he could rely on in life, the bitter, ugly truth that he could never have what he wanted so desperately. It swirled on his tongue, sinking into his body, his mind, his soul. The only comfort he had in this whole s**t show was that, at least, those he cared about could be happy. Even Layla would find someone, eventually, who would take care of her in all the ways he couldn’t.

He wasn’t entirely blind, he could tell she’d been struggling with whatever was between them like he had, but he knew she’d realize, in time, exactly what he had. That she was meant for much better than he. He gulped down the last of the coffee, putting the mug in one of the bins for dirty dishes before heading back to his room to finish the last of his packing and get ready to go back to his real life, foregoing breakfast as his appetite had disappeared just like Layla had seemed to.

Love was, as ever, a cruel b***h.