Page 39 of Who We Were

Her gaze turns soft, then thunderous, making my dick perk up against her hip. My mate doesn't react to my hard-on, so I leave it, curious what she's thinking.

"Have you spoken to your family since everything happened?"

I nod. Amaya's soothing scent keeps me calm, even if it's a little bitter. "Yup. Talked to them at the rehabilitation center. They still disapproved, and I still found their stuffy, dickless ways to be a little too shitty for my taste."

Her shocked burst of laughter startles both me and Amaya, but I'm soon smirking even as her face twists to look horrified. "Oh my god. I'm sorry," she apologizes. "That's not funny. It was just the way you said it."

Taking a chance, I kiss her nose. "I know, little mate. Laugh all you want, it's my favorite sound."

Pink blooms on her cheeks to match her lips and I'm a fucking goner. I've barely even thought about leaning in and taking her mouth with mine when her stomach growls angrily.

"Okay, I hear you," I joke and kiss her nose again. "I'll be back with enchiladas. How does that sound?"

"Amazing," she breathes, eyes wide with excitement. "Maybe we can watch a movie?"

Amaya's hopeful shyness warms my heart and tries to brand my arm around her, but with great effort because Ineedto feed my mate, I let her go.

"Amazing," I repeat with a wink, and step away.

Her wide smile drives away the anxiety in her eyes; nonverbally telling me I'm doing all the right things today.

I'll strive to do that for the rest of my life.

And it starts with enchiladas.

27

AMAYA

SEVEN YEARS OLD

“What does that say?" My head kind of hurts trying to read the upside-down paper.

Mom pulls it to her and doesn't look at me when she says, "Jenkins Realty."

"What does Jenkins mean?"

"Oh my god, Amaya. It's a last name. Don't be stupid." She sounds distracted, but her words still make my tummy twist.

I know she's busy, but I want to know what it is. "What does realty mean?"

"It means," Mom snaps, but she still won’t look at me, too busy with whatever she's writing on her notepad. "These people sell houses."

Oh. That's cool."Is that what my daddy does, too?"

Mom's head snaps up so fast I jump a little and drop my fork full of spaghetti. "You do not have adaddy." She says daddy like it's a bad word, kind of how Nana does when Mommy says an adult word.

"But Nana said?—"

Her face turns red and scary. "I don't care what that old bitch said, you have no dad, Amaya. This is why we're fucking moving," Mom grumbles and finishes her big girl drink; that's what Nana calls it. I prefer that name to what Mommy says it is. She says it's her way to forget about me.

Mommy's always mad. I don't really know what I do to bother her. Sometimes I ask her things and she gets upset, but she never tells me why what I said was wrong. Everything I say is wrong, I think. Normally I stay quiet when it's just me and Mom, but I was just wondering what the sheet of paper said that looked so important. I only have more questions now, and a sick feeling in my tummy.

"We're moving?"

She barks a laugh. "Sometimes I wonder why I would take you with me, but I can't have your grandmother ruining my offspring now, can I?"

I feel myself frown. It’s the thing that Nana says will give me forehead lines, but I don't understand what's happening.

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