Chapter 45

Rowena

I couldn’t believe my ears when Emma actually said yes to my request to get hot cocoa together. After purchasing our things, we found ourselves sitting at a small corner table in a nearby cafe, our shopping bags piled around us and two steaming mugs of hot chocolate on the table.

“So,” I said, trying to sound nonchalant, “how have you… how have you been?”

Emma regarded me for a few moments over her mug. The implications were pretty clear: I was referencing the miscarriage that she had suffered only last week. We both knew that.

Finally, her gaze dropped and her shoulders seemed to sag a little.

“I’ve been alright,” she said quietly. “Um… Thanks for helping me the other day, by the way.”

I almost winced at the mention of what had happened back then. It had been a pivotal moment for the both of us, and something I had never dealt with before—with my bully, no less.

“You’re welcome,” I said. “I hope you’re feeling better.”

Emma nodded. “Much better, thanks. Although…” Her voice trailed off. I blinked at her, curious as to what was going through her mind. “Nevermind. I shouldn’t say it.”

I quirked an eyebrow. “You can tell me, whatever it is,” I said, trying to sound as open and welcoming as possible.

She shrugged and circled the rim of her mug with her finger. “It’s just that you didn’t have to help me, after all of the shit I put you through,” she admitted. “But you did anyway. You didn’t even hesitate.”

My eyes widened slightly. “Emma, I—”

“I just wanted to put that out there,” she said. “I mean, hell, my own sister wouldn’t have even done the same. So…”

There was another long silence. I blinked at Emma from across the table, still too shocked by her sudden candor to speak. After all this time, after the months of being treated like dirt by Emma, it felt strange to have an almost ‘normal’ conversation with her.

“Can I ask you something?” I asked. Emma nodded, and I took in a sharp breath. “Do you know who the father was?”

Emma swallowed and nodded, and for a moment I thought she might not say anything else. But she did. “His name is Liam,” she said. “He’s, um… He’s a warrior at camp. One of the lower-tier warriors.”

“And you two are dating?” I asked.

She chuckled. “Something like that; he’s my mate. But it’s not public, obviously.”

“Why not?”

“He’s a much lower class than me and my family; my parents would never approve. And if they had found out that I was pregnant with his baby? It would be like the end of the world.”

I was stunned. My parents had always been so welcoming toward the idea of love that they never would have disapproved of someone who was my mate—unless they were a genuinely bad or dangerous person, of course.

But this… this explained a lot. And it felt, between this interaction and the miscarriage, that I was already learning so much about Emma.

“I’m so sorry,” I managed.

She shrugged. “It is what it is,” she replied coolly.

“But it doesn’t have to be that way, you know.”

Emma raised her eyebrows. “Sorry?”

Now, I was the one who shrugged. “You love him, right? And he’s your mate?” She blushed and nodded, albeit hesitantly, and I continued. “Mates exist for a reason; it’s a physical manifestation of our heart’s truest desire,” I said softly. “By denying yourself of that… You’re losing a part of yourself.”

“So what?” Emma scoffed. “You’re saying I should risk losing my entire family for the sake of ‘true love’, if that even exists?”

“Emma, I’m just saying—”

“I have to go.” Without another word, Emma suddenly rose from her chair and grabbed her bags. All I could do was watch as she hurried out of the cafe without even finishing her hot cocoa, her face twisted in an expression of anger.

But I knew that that anger was just a mask—because I could see the tears in her eyes betraying her true feelings.

…

“Hey, honey. Movie night?”

My mother’s voice called to me from the living room. When I walked into the entryway, I could see her already snuggled up on the couch beneath a blanket. Grinning, she patted the spot beside her.

I had been planning on giving the journal to Eric, but I couldn’t say no to my mother. With a smile, I joined her on the couch, leaning my head on her shoulder as she put on a cheesy chick flick—moments like this always meant the world to me.

Throughout the movie, though, I kept thinking back to two things, or rather, two people: Emma and Eric. Two thorns, one in each of my sides.

I felt bad for hurting Emma’s feelings—or maybe it was more so that I had told her the truth, which she wasn’t ready to hear. Somehow, though, I had a feeling that she might come around. Someday.

Eric, on the other hand? I still hadn’t seen or heard from him all day. Not since the… incident in class, at least.

But, as if on cue, the sound of footsteps alerted me to his presence. I jerked my head up to see Eric passing by the living room without looking at me or our mother.

“Eric,” my mother called out. “Come on, join us for a movie. You’ve been in your room all day.”

“No thanks,” he replied.

My mother looked at me, then back at Eric; the tension between the two of us had been all too obvious for her not to notice. “Eric, come on. You’re acting like a surly teenager. Why are you so mad at your sister?”

“Mom, it’s okay—” I began, my face reddening, but she quickly cut me off.

“No, really,” she said. “Eric, enough with the attitude. Maybe you two should watch this movie together and make up already. If only you’d just—”

“I said, I’m not interested.” Eric whirled around, gritting his jaw at our mother, who fell silent with shock. “And besides, you don’t know anything about the real situation.”

Before our mother could respond, Eric stormed off, the sound of his footsteps receding on the stairs. I felt my stomach sink into an abyss, and when I looked over at my mom, her eyes were wide.

“What on Earth is going on?” she murmured. “He’s never so disrespectful.”

I sighed, tossing my blanket aside and standing. To be rude to me was one thing, but to be rude to our innocent mother… This couldn’t go on any longer. “I’ll handle it,” I said quietly.

Walking out of the living room, I grabbed the journal out of the shopping bag and jogged up the stairs toward Eric’s room. Without knocking, I pushed open the partially-cracked door, opening my mouth to say something.

But then I froze.

There was Eric, now shirtless, hitting his punching bag with an unmatched fury. With each punch, he let out a soft grunt, his fists moving faster than I even thought possible. Sweat dripped down his bare back and caked his blond hair to the back of his neck.

I felt my chest tighten.