Page 108 of The Butcher

They didn’t say anything, not even goodbye. I doubt they gave me a second glance.

But I’m alone now, and it’s something I’m probably going to have to get used to, because if my mates, my scent match, doesn’t want me after hearing how I spent my time at Harden Ranch, there isn’t a chance in hell anyone else will either.

No, I can imagine I’ll have to get used to being alone all over again, and it's going to be just as hard as it was when my mother died. Maybe even harder, since I know what it's like to go through that kind of grief, to feel that kind of loneliness, then be given a taste of what it’s like when that void is filled.

I know what it’s like to have a pack, to feel loved and wanted, after losing the most important person in my life, and being alone for a long time after that.

The first tear breaks free as all of that sinks in, and I quickly move across the room, heading right for my nest in order to attempt to soothe all of these feelings that are tearing me apart.

But, all that does is make me cry.

My nest smells like Nash and Clayton; they’re everywhere in here, I can even smell them on my skin, and as much as I should want to scrub them off of me, I don’t.

I can’t.

And that makes me cry even harder.

How am I going to move on, or start over, when I can’t imagine doing it without having them with me?

I collapse into my pillows and blankets as soon as the door closes, sobbing into the soft fabrics until I start to feel sick.

My entire body hurts, and it feels like it’s on fire. I start to heave again, clutching my stomach as I bring my knees to my chest.

This is far worse than anything I’ve experienced before, and if this is what it feels like to have my heart broken by not one, but three men, then I’m done for.

I’m through with entertaining silly thoughts, for allowing myself to have hope. And I’m done with the idea of falling in love, and having a life better than anything I could have dreamt for myself.

Being in love hurts far too much, and since that’s a pain I can actually control, I’m choosing to stop it now.

Too bad scent matches and bonding with your mates isn’t anything you can turn off and on.

If they were, I wouldn’t be lying on the floor, crying myself sick, and longing for the men I won’t ever truly have.

Oh my god, why does this hurt so fucking bad?

Chapter Twenty-Two

SLIP AND SLIDE

Clayton

Irritated as fuck, I slam the door of the box truck closed then lock it as I watch Bramley peel off down the road like a bat out of hell.

He’s a dick, that has been well established over the last thirty- eight years he’s been breathing, but I’m so goddamn mad at him right now, I could kill something.

“I can’t believe him,” I grunt, punching the steel before fisting my hair. “I just—fuck!”

Nash walks up, his vibe pretty much the same as mine, then takes his gloves off and rests a hand on either side of my neck. “You’re going to break your hand.”

“So? It won’t hurt nearly as bad as watching Indy pour her fucking heart out, then witnessing the way our alpha dealt with it.”

Or how he didn’t deal with it.

Yeah, I know he’s not exactly touchy feely but I never thought he was heartless, not really. Not until now. And while I might still have a little hope that he’s having an off day, I’m questioning Bramley in multiple ways.

How anyone could stand there and not be moved in some way, or at the very least, not want to comfort her while she talked about some of the darkest shit that’s probably ever happened to her, is beyond me.

It was bad. So fucking bad, and I could barely hold it together as I listened to Indy bare her soul.

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