Page 9 of Exiled Mate

In that moment, with those few words, my world shatters.

Again.

Rylan leaves me alone to dress. While my head feels a little groggy, a quick catalogue of my body lets me know there’s no permanent damage. One of my ankles is a little tender, but that should clear up soon. I manage to get myself composed. When I come out, he’s wrapped a towel around himself like a kilt, and while it covers up anything that couldn’t be shown on live television, it does nothing to hide his muscular thighs. They remind me, painfully, of the fact that Rylan was a champion rugby player in high school.

I guess that hasn’t changed.

I breeze by him, hustling to my kitchen to make some coffee. I get at least halfway into the process before Rylan speaks. “I think you should have some water.”

That sets me off. I turn on him, my temper flaring. “I think you should have told me to get some water at any point in the last two years.”

He looks down. “Terra…”

“Where were you?” I whisper.

I have many more questions than that.

Why didn’t you come back for me? What happened? Where did you go?

Why did you leave me?

He looks away. “I can’t tell you that.”

I blink. “Are you freaking kidding me?”

“Terra…”

This is too much. My head is starting to pound, and it’s not from the fact a wolf slammed me into a boulder.

It’s him.

I can’t have him here. He looks… he’s real. He’s here, standing in my kitchen, acting like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

He’s real, and I can’t handle this.

“Get out,” I whisper.

Rylan shakes his head. “I have to stay…”

“No. You really don’t. You did such a great job of leaving and disappearing two years ago, you can do it again.”

“Terra…”

I point to the door. “Get. Out.”

He stares at me. I can’t tell what he’s thinking, but I know it isn’t something that I want.

I want him gone.

I’ve spent so long fantasizing about what my life would be like if Rylan appeared in it again, and right now, I want nothing more than to have him out of it.

“I can’t,” he says. “There’s so much you don’t know, Terra.”

“So tell me. Or wait,” I say, holding up a hand as he opens his mouth again. “Let me guess. You can’t.”

“It’s not because I’m trying to keep things from you,” he says softly.

Oh, you have to be joking. “Spare me the whole martyr routine. If you really loved me, if you cared about me then or now, then you’d just tell me.”

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