She Will Be Mine (New Horizon Book 2)

Chapter 31: Jason

After wrapping up a meeting with a couple contractors Aly wanted me to check out for her, I pull out my phone to see the time. I’m starting to get pretty hungry, and if it’s early enough, I might even have time to head out and grab a bite somewhere.

There’s a text from Ronnie that came in only about thirty seconds ago, asking if I’d be interested in having lunch with her. She’s offering to bring up something from the dining hall downstairs.

That’s the only place around here that fits my budget, she jests.

Her humor makes me smile, but also feel a little sad. I hate the way she’s been struggling lately, and I know she hates it too. But spending my lunch with her sounds perfect, and I tell her as much.

I’ll take a triple of whatever they’re serving, I add, and I’m dead serious.

My appetite is heartier than most, but it’s a well-known fact around here so no one should give her trouble for it if she tells them it’s for me. I text her the info she’ll need to place an order for me, and then set about clearing all the paperwork and work clutter from my desk so we’ll have a spot to eat.

It’s only about ten minutes later that she knocks on the door, struggling a bit with all the bags of food. It looks like a lot to carry compared to her tiny little body. I jump up to help her bring it in and set it out, grinning when I see how much she got for me. Instead of a triple serving of something, she brought me three different options and sides and snacks to go with them all.

“I ran into Henny on my way back through the kitchen, and she loaded me up with stuff before I even made it into the dining hall,” she explains, laughing. “And she told me I’m too skinny and she’s making it her personal mission to fatten me up. Can you believe that?”

“Well, you are pretty tiny,” I can’t help backing Henny up on that.

I’d love Ronnie no matter what size, but I do agree that she’s lost a lot of weight since I saw her a couple years ago, weight that she definitely didn’t need to lose. But if she likes her tiny self better, then I can get behind that.

But the look Ronnie gives me lets me know that she doesn’t think her current self is tiny at all, and that’s kind of concerning.

“I think I could wrap my hands around either side of your waist and they’d touch in the middle,” I add to illustrate my point.

“You’re exaggerating,” she chides me.

“Hold still, and I’ll show you.”

To my surprise, she does stand there and let me try. Turns out I wasn’t that far off with my estimate, but she grins at me victoriously as though we just proved her point instead of mine. Interesting. I drop it though, preferring to spend this time enjoying some food and her company rather than arguing about her waistline.

I worry a little bit once I realize she’s about to find out there’s a difference between hungry Jason and slightly peckish Jason. Hungry Jason can be a bit of an animal, but I do my best to exhibit at least some semblance of table manners.

As we eat, she tells me some about her new therapist, who she seems to like.

“And I have to say it’s such a relief to be able to talk to someone who knows all about werewolves and mates. It was always so hard to dance around that before,” she tells me after listing everything she learned about the woman today.

“I’m guessing I come up a lot then,” I can’t help commenting.

I know she’s mentioned quite a few things that she’s talked to other therapists about that were kind of related to our relationship, and I’m wondering if it might not be the primary thing she goes to therapy for. Not that I’d mind if it was. I’d rather her be working on resolving her feelings by whatever means necessary than burying them and pushing me aside.

“Sort of. I have a lot going on in my head that you and this whole mate thing get mixed up in, but it’s not just about you,” she assures me, blushing a bit.

Right while we’re sort of on the topic, I’m wondering if now might be a good time to bring up something that’s been on my mind since Sunday night. The way she got a little weird once we started talking about texting was concerning, but I was too tired to probe more about it then. I know she made the connection to the day when she exploded at me for not responding to her texts right away because she as much as said so, but what I don’t know is whether there was a connection between that and her urge to hug me.

“So, I’m sure you remember the other night, when you were wanting a hug,” I begin, watching her tense a little in her chair. “It keeps playing over in my mind. I could see that you were struggling, but I couldn’t tell if it was just that you didn’t feel comfortable asking for a hug or if there was more going on.”

“Yeah. Sorry. I kind of froze up there,” she apologizes sheepishly. “I did have some stuff on my mind, but I just really wanted you right then. I was afraid it would come out wrong from how nervous I was, plus I was feeling kind of emotional. Finn's way just came out easier, and I knew you’d know what it meant.”

“Emotional how?”

She sighs, seeming to study her fingers a moment.

“I was reminded of that day when you went running with Clarice and I freaked out because you weren’t answering me, and it just ...”

She trails off, seeming to think more about what she wants to say. But what she has said so far tells me I’m not wrong. I only wish I hadn’t been so tired then so we could have talked about it.

“Do you know why I pushed you away the last time?” she asks a moment later.

“No. I mean I have some theories, but I never could figure it out exactly.”

“It was because of how I felt that day,” she reveals. “Not just what I felt, which was mostly inaccurate and unfair, but how intensely. I realized how important you were becoming to me, how much I was starting to feel for you and how scared I was to lose you, and it absolutely terrified me. It was my worst fear coming true right in front of me.”

“Having feelings for me is your worst fear?” Ouch.

“Yeah,” she makes a sound that’s a cross between choking and laughing. “Yeah, because getting close to someone like that means offering up another thing for the universe to take from me, another reason for me to get hurt. I can’t bear the thought of caring for you that much and then losing you. I’d rather lose you on my own terms, pushing you away so I can maintain control over my life and my feelings.”

Wow. The mental load of going around looking at the world like that must get incredibly tiring. But it fits. It fits how she’s always been with me, and it even reminds me of some of the stuff I've talked about with her mom, like the way that she’s totally cool with depriving herself of people and things that make her happy because it brings her “peace.”

She sighs again, studying a paper weight on my desk. I can sense she’s not finished, so despite having plenty I could say, I wait.

“At least that’s how I felt then,” she goes on. “The therapist I started seeing shortly after that focused a lot on my feelings about you and how I am about getting close to anyone really, and I eventually came to see it differently. That’s not to say I’m not still scared, but it’s not the same as it was.”

“But you still never reached out.”

She probably can’t tell, but I’m clutching the sides of my office chair so tightly that my knuckles are likely turning white. This is both heart-breaking and maddening to hear.

“No,” she sighs, still avoiding looking directly at me. It’s one of my pens that has her interest now. “I fought that battle every day and always lost. But the reasons why changed over time. I grew to be scared in a different way.”

“How so?” I’m mentally cringing because I know the answer to this is going to hurt me in ways that only she can, but I need to know the answer.

She takes a deep breath, and I watch her brace herself and prepare to let it out. Good thing I’m already clutching my chair.

“Scared I didn’t deserve you because of how I treated you. Scared you would hate me. Scared you’d eventually come to realize that who you think I am is not the same as who I am and change your mind. Scared you wouldn’t want me, or that you’d found someone else. Scared that nothing at all had changed, including me, and we’d end up right back to where we started. Scared that your Moon Goddess made a mistake, and I’m not the one for you. Scared that you only like me because I’m your mate and as you get to know me, you’ll grow bored or repulsed.”

She exhales, shaking her head at herself and looking up at me finally.

“God, Jason, you’re this amazing person, and I feel so unimpressive and unworthy,” she admits. “I used to feel like we just have two completely different life plans, and it would never work, but now it’s more like I feel like a loser, and you have so much going for you that I can’t fathom why you’d be interested or what I could even offer you. And the other night, remembering that day that I blocked you, it reminded me of all that noise I’ve been shutting out. I felt embarrassed and insecure, and I just wanted a hug. Honestly, I wanted you to stay but I didn’t know how to ask for it. I was also scared that it would end up being a disaster just like last time.”

“Honestly? Me too, and that’s the only reason I left. I wanted to stay, but I didn’t want to push my luck,” I reveal to her.

Then I sit and try to let everything she just threw at me sink in, realizing I need more time to respond in a way that won’t do more damage than good.

“And Ronnie? I need just a moment to collect myself because I have a whole lot to say about what you were just telling me.”

“Okay,” she agrees softly. “I’m listening whenever you’re ready.”

I sit there in my chair, fighting to keep my cool. That big, long confession she just made is upsetting, and I hate that she’s sitting there watching me right now. Usually, honesty like that only comes out on the phone, and I have the option to get myself together privately. I’m always careful to handle her gently, and I’m worried about ruining that now. Yet, there’s a lot I need to say in response to that.

“Stop it,” she scolds me after I’ve been quietly struggling for a bit.

“Excuse me?”

“Whatever you’re doing there, restraining yourself or holding back or whatever is going on,” she explains. “Stop it. I want to hear it, the real version of whatever you’re thinking. In fact, I think I need to hear it. I have a feeling that this,” she gestures at me, waving up and down as if all of me is what she’s referring to, “this is the thing that I’ve been missing out on that might help this all make sense. Maybe the reason why you seem so perfect and unreachable for me is because of whatever you’re doing right now. Maybe I don’t even know you, and I didn’t even know it until right this second.”

Ouch. There she goes calling me out again. But she’s making sense, as much as I hate to admit it. I’ve been asking her to show me her real self, and she’s been trying. She’s been a lot more open with me lately. I suppose it’s time for me to return the favor.

But that could be dangerous. I’m a werewolf, and a berserker at that. Almost all my emotions have the potential to trigger rage if I uncage them, which is what she’s asking me to do. Luckily, I have an idea.

“Follow me,” I invite her, hopping up out of my chair, already in motion and headed to the door.

She sits and looks up at me, confused, so I hold my hand out.

“Do you trust me?” I ask her gently, knowing that her trust is essential to my plan.

If she’s not comfortable enough to follow me, then I can’t show her what she’s asking for. I could tell her where we’re going, but it feels important to get her to come even without knowing.

“Yes,” she agrees, almost without hesitation.

I’ll take it.