Chapter 80
Thane
my
Again, I leave Ayla like a coward. I couldn’t even make it through the night cuddling her before the guilt tore through me that I was hurting her by keeping her close. Playing with her emotions, mine being hot and cold. Knowing I want her and shouldn’t. Oh, emotions are hot for her and that’s the problem. I am not callous en ugh to keep her from her fated mate. Her other half. Predetermined by the fates to be the equal she needs. The person to help her learn and grow. The mate destined to love her more than life itself. That person wasn’t me. It apparently was that bastard Kian. She deserves better than both of us. I can’t give her what she needs anyway. I am broken. That is why I have hidden myself away in the office today. Besides trying not to think about the constant pain today brings, drowning myself in work will take my thoughts of little wolf. Well, that and this whiskey. The more I numb, the more dettached from my misery I become.
I’ve been in here all day. Drinking and working. Working and drinking. I don’t have time to grieve when I think of more work for myself to de. More tasks to check on, more ideas thrown out on ways to better the pack. Maps examined time and time again. A vicious circle that keeps me from ever dealing or feeling. Everyone knows to stay clear of me today. They know to stay clear of me on my sister’s day as well. A few people slide cards under my door. Mostly, friends of my parents. Sometimes meals are left outside of my door, or trinket in front of my rooms. The ones that cared for my family show it.
10 hours later and I am sitting at my desk with my feet up, eyes closed, and my dark blue dress shirt half buttoned. My face has a two–day shadow, and I am out of booze. Not without a pretty good buzz though. I stupidly let my mind wander to memories of better times. Replaying family celebrations, birthdays. The thought of certain things brings me the scent in real life. My mother’s garden, baking and favorite foods. The smell of blood with the hunts I had with dad. Watching him rule with pride and loyalty to the pack. A knock at the door has me sitting upright, wiping a lone tear away from my bloodshot eyes. “Who is it?” I growl out gruffly. Maybe whoever it is moves the hell along.
Della comes in wearing a very short skirt that barely covers her ass and a crop top sweater. Her black hair falling down her back in curls. I should be aroused, but instead, I find myself wondering why anyone would wear a cropped sweater. Why wear long–sleeved shirts with bellies cut out? Women are strange and clearly; I have had enough to drink. “What do you want Della? I’m busy.” “I came to see if you are okay. I know what the day is and by the smell in here, you clearly aren’t okay.” “Della, I am tired and just want to rest. I don’t want to talk about my feelings. Please leave.” “I know you’re stressed. You don’t have to talk.” I close my eyes groaning. Why can’t people leave this room when I tell them?
Before I could say anything else, she made her way around my chair and started rubbing my shoulders. My neck and shoulders are full of knots and tension. Her hands, first unwanted now can stay as I must admit, she is damn good at this. She takes her time working down my arms and my back, sharing her own memories of my family and us as children. I would rather not think on my family as she is releasing tension in my back. That will only bring it all back, but I allow her to share while I relax.
