Page 80 of I Replaced His Husband
"What? Inside? Like telepathy?"
"Probably the mating bond," I said, downplaying it. "I just knew you were scared," I added, trying to let the idea land softly. For some reason, saying out loud what I suspected still felt wrong. I hoped maybe he’d be the one to say it instead.
Kay studied my face for a moment. Then he said slowly, "There’s only one explanation, Rain. This and everything else that’s happened, it all adds up. It might be the True Mate Bond forming."
There it was, he said it. I swallowed hard, pausing before responding. The ball was in his court now.
"We don’t know that for sure, Kay," I muttered, glancing away. "The suppressants might be messing with things."Downplaying stuff constantly was slowly becoming a bad habit of mine.
But Kay didn’t let up. His eyes locked on mine, firm and determined. "You need to stop taking the blockers. That’s the only way to be sure."
"Moor said I shouldn’t. They might be my only defense if this turns into a legal mess."
Kay’s thoughtful expression was oddly cute, with that little frown and slightly stuck-out lower lip. He nodded slowly.
"Yeah. That makes sense. We’ll have to wait and see what they say tomorrow. But if it’s true," he said, looking away, lashes trembling, "then it’s huge." His voice had a bit of an edge. "It’d be kind of sad if I just let this erase everything I had with Maurice."
So, yes.
I had rightly suspected that this would be Kay’s main concern. The fact that his relationship with his late husband would, in a way, lose some of its importance.
And who would take Maurice’s place then? A temporary sex helper? A placeholder he had originally planned to forget about once the pregnancy was safe?
Oh, I remembered how cautious he’d sounded when we talked after the knotting episode.
He’d wanted to have a way out. He still wasn’t sure about me.
Even though the feeling stung, I whispered, "I don’t want to compete with his memory. I don’t want to take anything away from you. I just—" I forced the words out, trying to keep my voice controlled, "I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give."
God, I sounded pathetic! Embarrassed, I turned to the window.
I could feel his eyes on me, studying my face. Did he know how I really felt? Was he sensing my emotions the same way I sensed his: clearer, stronger, more and more with each day?
"Rain, we’ve barely known each other, I was with Maurice for eight years! I can’t just forget him. Can’t just shove the memories aside to make room for something new."
So he said it, made it clear.
He couldn’t make room for me. And even though I knew it was silly, it still hit like a punch in the gut. Again, I saw that strange wince on his face, like he was feeling it too, my pain.
Was this really happening? Had the True Mate Bond already formed between us without us even realizing it? We hadn’t had time to explore it properly. The past two weeks had been… mostly physical.
But now, spending more time with him outside of that, the connection felt almost alive, tangible. When I focused, I could almost read his mind, not full thoughts, but it was like knowing all his emotions.
Still, for a moment, I pulled away from that link, because what I felt from him wasn’t hopeful. It was full of unease, confusion, and lingeringsorrow. Indeed, there didn’t seem to be any real space for something more between us, so why would I dig deeper? Just to hover there and gloomily dwell on how complicated everything was?
That ‘breakthrough’ conversation we’d had earlier had filled me with far too much hope, sending my emotions into overdrive. But now, his words pulled me back down to earth, snapping me out of my dreamy haze.
And to be fair, when I looked at it rationally, he had a point. He loved his husband like crazy, and his husband had loved him back. He’d lost something deeply precious. Who was I to expect his heart to shift so suddenly? That kind of hope felt selfish. Arrogant, even.
Yeah, I dared to dream, but I should slow down with it.
Staring out at the road, I forced myself to question what I was feeling for him. Where had it even come from? From the great fucking? Was it just the intensity of it all, pure chemistry, or a kind of dazed attachment to a beautiful stranger, hurting, lonely… someone I could fantasize about rescuing like some kind of white knight?
We'd barely talked through most of it. I didn’t know what kind of partner he’d be to me, or who he really was outside of the grief and trauma. Was I deluding myself, caught up in a mind-fogging sex frenzy?
"I don't expect you to," I said, composing myself. "I'll do anything to accommodate all your current needs as much as you'll allow. That's all."
He looked at me again, slowly blinking, surprised by my terse response, then swallowed and muttered, "I appreciate that."
