Page 60 of Thorns That Bloom
“You don’t need to answer if the answer is not yet clear in your mind. It’s okay not to know, Sam.”
Meeting her eyes with a trembling inhale, I bite down on my bottom lip before opening my mouth. “I…I know you’re not supposed to give me your personal anecdotes or your opinions on things. You’re just supposed to push me to figure shit out by myself. But please… Right now, I need you to answer me like a normal person. A human being, not a shrink. Fated mates. D-do you believe it’s real?”
That’s what it all comes down to, isn’t it?
What might have been just a completely outrageous, silly idea that Theo put out there is now something more. It’s something I actually started thinking about, too. When I look at him, I so often hear his confession in my mind. The determination of his words echoes in there like a catchy song I can’t get out of my head.
Dr. Stewart raises her brows. She hardly ever shows much emotion besides soft, comforting understanding and support. I see thoughts swim behind her eyes before she flares her nostrils, presses her lips together and lifts her shoulders with along sigh.
“Very well, Sam. You’re not wrong—I’d rather not answer such questions in a manner like this, but if you insist, and if this is truly what you believe you need to hear to help you make up your mind about it, I’ll entertain the request.”
My chest collapses with relief. Relief, and a swirling ribbon of hope I can’t quite place.
Re-crossing her legs, she places the pen on her notepad, almost as if she’s putting her entiretherapist personaaside.
“Hmmm, fated mates…” Thoughtfully, she purses her lips and glances up at the ceiling for a moment. “Well, let’s say… You’re aware that nearly all of us carry recessive or dominant genes of all kinds, yes? Some genetic disorders only present and cause issues in specific instances. For example, you could have two people with a recessive gene for a disease living happy, healthy lives. Only when they have a child together does this combination become a recipe for the illness to manifest in full force. These occurrences of two unlucky individuals joining to create the perfect storm are rare enough.”
I nod, listening intently.
At some point in the last thirty seconds, my heart rate has picked up, and my ankle has started bouncing all by itself. I smooth my palms down the legs of my pants.
Why am I more nervous now than when I tried to open up to Dr. Stewart about what happened to me? It makes no sense. With breath that’s bated for reasons I couldn’t articulate, I anticipate her next words.
“I believe that…the so-called perfect match for an alpha and an omega—the fated mates—is quite similar. Only the effect is reversed. A positive result instead of a negative. Just like there are people with genes that, when put together, can create a genetic disaster, some individuals might possess sets of genes that are so ideal together that it almost creates this…palpable mental impression or a reaction. But of course, we are much more than our biological makeup. So, for this theory to make sense, we’d need to add even more variability—theemotionalcompatibility.
“Two people matched in this extraordinary way genetically and also personality-wise. Odds akin to being struck by lightning. If we combine these two aspects, I certainly believe it could give way to something one might call fated mates.”
“Wouldn’t something like that mean we lack agency?” I ask, my heart beating violently inside my chest.
I’m scared. I’m fucking scared, and I don’t know why.
Maybe because my true, naive view of it might not be too far from what she just said.
Dr. Stewart smiles in that soothing way and tilts her head. “One might say that those factors take agency away from the two individuals, yes. Personally, what I would say is that the fact that two people fit so well together by such astronomically low chances is the biggest proof of fate anyone could ever hope for. The chances of this perfect match actually coming together with the number of humans in the world, at the right time and place?Extraordinary. The real question is…what is the belief you want me to support or disprove by asking me this question? What isyouropinion on it?”
“I don’t know,” I say quickly, my voice too loud in Dr. Stewart’s small office.
Too quickly.So quickly that it must be painfully obvious it’sa pathetic, cowardly lie.
“Tell me, Sam…” She shifts in her seat again, taking on that rational tone again, slipping back into her role. “Have you ever kissed anyone simply because of your hormones or pheromones? Let’s use the example of being at the most sexually frustrated and needy point of the heat cycle. In that state, would you kiss someone you were not intimately interested in?”
It’s like she punches me in the chest. Whatever part of my mind was stubbornly refusing to process this fated mates thing is painfully shaken loose.
I stare ahead, recalling all the most insatiably horny, infuriating, frustrating times of heat in my life.
No. Of course not. Of course the answer isno.
Just like I didn’t wantthemto do it, no matter how many pheromones were in the air. No matter how many times I came and how much slick my body produced, I never wanted it.
When I kissed Theo… it wasn’t only hormones, was it?
I look up, staring at the woman in front of me, and she knows it, too. Sees it as clear as day; the revelation on my face. It’s why she gives me that expression of pity. She proved so easily that the excuse I’ve been using to let myself off the hook is as weak as I am. I wasn’t some beast controlled by my hormones when I agreed for Theo to come to the doctor’s office with me, or when I felt utter joy over him experiencing that beautiful moment by my side.
It was just me. I did that. Because I wanted to. And Iwantedto kiss him.
But…what the fuck am I supposed to do with that?
Fear washes over me. “I can’t want him,” I mutter, shakingmy head. My fingers tremble slightly, so I press them firmer against my belly. “I’m not ready. I can’t…drag him into that.”
