Page 70 of Forced Plus-Size Mate

“How about we get some fried chicken and potato cakes from the little shop? You always liked to go there when you were having a bad day.”

“Sure,” she mumbles, and I’m still not sure she has even heard me, let alone knows what we’re talking about.

I try not to worry, but anxiety begins to gnaw at my guts and won’t let up. We stop at the burger joint and grab some food, but Amanda shows little interest in it. By the time we get home, I’m starting to get seriously wound up, and I can’t keep it in.

“Hey,” I say firmly as she tries to walk away from me. “Talk to me, please.”

“Oh?” She turns to me, awareness flickering in her blue eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“Sit down,” I say, gesturing at the couch. She does, and I force a bag of fried chicken into her hands. She starts eating but mechanically, as if she can’t taste the food.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

“You’ve just been so out of it today. I’m worried about you.”

“You don’t need to worry about me,” she answers, smiling. “I’m healing up just fine.”

“I don’t believe that, but it’s not what I’m talking about, anyway. It’s like—it’s like you’re sad about something.”

“Of course I’m sad!” she snaps, and I’m relieved to see real emotion rising in her. “We lost so many of our own, and the other packs have had casualties, too. Seeing the wounded absolutely broke me in two. Why are you asking me this?”

“No,” I say, taking her hands and looking into her eyes. “I’m not talking about that, I’m talking about us. Last night, we were so close. I felt like you were finally with me. But now—”

Concern clouds her face, and I see dismay shining in her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I didn’t mean to make it feel like I was pulling away from you, but I just have a lot to think about.”

I watch her face, trying to understand how she’s feeling. This morning, everything felt right, until she talked to the others and found out how bad the aftermath of the fight really was.

“Like what?” I ask.

She tightens her hands on mine, leaning in to kiss me. It’s a quick kiss, a mere taste of her lips.

“No matter what, Body, don’t doubt my love for you. I never stopped wanting you, even when I thought you hated me.”

“I never—”

“I know you didn’t. But for a while, I thought you did, and it made absolutely no difference, and I hatedmyselffor that.”

“And it wasn’t necessary,” I say, feeling sorrow for everything she went through after I brutally dumped her. “So many years of pain, and it didn’t even have to happen.”

“It’s okay,” she says, stroking my face. “I forgive you. I don’t want you to worry about me. I’m just recovering. Everything’s going to be alright.”

I don’t quite believe it, but I let her comfort me, and I try to put my faith in her. She cheers up a bit as we eat dinner and watch some silly videos. I’m reassured by the way she curls up close to me that night.

The next morning, the distance between us is back, and now I’m afraid to mention it. There is a hesitance in her touch, and her gaze slides away from mine before we make real eye contact. Even though I try to keep it under control, worry eats away at me, and I can’t even express it.

She asked me to trust her. But now, if I keep bringing it up, she’ll think that I don’t.

I have to go out for a short while to run some errands. While I’m out, I pick up some of her favorite things in the hope that I can cheer her up. When I get back, she’s standing in the backyard, staring up at the hills with a blank expression on her face.

“Amanda?” I cry in alarm, but she barely notices me.

“I can hear them!” she hisses. “All the voices. They are speaking to me.”

“What voices?” I ask, my own voice rising at the same rate as my anxiety.

“The dead,” she says. “I can hear the dead, all the past, and the present. They don’t rest easy, and they won’t lie still.”

“Amanda!” I shout, grabbing her arms and shaking her. “Snap out of it! Do I need to get Lucy?”

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