Page 11 of More Than I Can Bear

This was followed by a shot of him in some club, neon lights glaring in the background, a few pretty girls leaning in to take a selfie with him.

I didn’t want ‘babes’. I didn’t like clubs at the best of times, and I hated doof music. I just wanted Freya. I tapped out of his message stream, jumping into the one I shared with Jack, hoping that her message had been updated.

Jackster:I’m catching up with her on Sunday. I’ll ask.

No promises, no acknowledgement of the hell I was going through. It wasn’t reasonable of me to expect anything like that, but… Part of me wondered if Jack knew how this felt. And as soon as I thought that, I felt an overwhelming rush of shame. That hadn’t happened when I’d noped out of the medal count, letting my team down. Nor when I’d stood in front of the press and begged Freya to come back to me. But I sure felt it right fucking now.

Because Jack did know how it felt. Her partner had spaced on her, leaving her to come home to a unit empty of all of her girlfriend’s possessions, with no other words than ‘this isn’t working out.’ Jack was tough as nails, but I’d seen her crack only a couple of days ago. I’d walked into her office for a word before the medal count and she’d tried to be all business, but the bear had caught the moment her hand had started to shake. It’d fluttered like a wounded bird before she slapped it down on the desk.

She’d tried to carry on, to keep herself together by keeping it professional, telling me how the medal count had to go, but I’d walked around and done the only thing I could think to do and hugged her. She’d gone real stiff then, making me think that this was a terrible mistake, but then she collapsed against me and burst into tears. It’d all come out in great sobbing chunks, the death of Jack’s relationship and of her hopes for the future.

“Shut up and listen.”That’s what my dads always said when Mum burst into tears. They’d waited quietly until she was done and then they’d try to work out how to fix whatever it was that was hurting her.

But I hadn’t been able to do that for Jack and I wasn’t able to do that for myself in order to work things out with Freya. I rubbed my face with my hands, scrubbing at the skin, anything to try and bring me back to the present, to this room. I had to find her, explain, do whatever it took to make shit up to her and—

“You’re up late.”

I pulled my hands away from my face to see River standing in the doorway looking over at me. His eyes took in the mess spread across the table and I felt like I was only just seeing it for the first time. This was my third beer, not my first and Dominos pizza…? I didn’t even like their food.

“Having a cheat meal, mate?” he asked.

“Cheat meal?” I shoved the box with my foot. “Season’s over now…” I stopped and let out a sigh. “I won the Magarey, River. I won the fucking medal that I’ve been aiming for my whole fucking life. So why does it feel like nothing?” I stared into my sleuthmate’s eyes. “Why does it feel like nothing without her?”

“Because it doesn’t matter.” I thought he was going to sit down beside me, but he picked up the box of pizza and the beers, even my half-drunk one and disposed of them in the kitchen before returning. “Nothing matters but her, and you feel like shit because you fucked up.” River didn’t talk that much, but when he did, he didn’t pull his punches. “But we can make things better. Freya is our fated mate. We’re destined to be with her. We will find her and get to know her and beg for her forgiveness…”

He paused, as if he could see just that and I clung to his certainty. He was giving me something Kaine couldn’t or wouldn’t: hope.

“Yeah?” My voice cracked on that.

“Yeah, you dickhead.” He gave me a shove, something I answered in kind. “Now go and have a fucking shower. Are you trying to preserve her scent or something? Because you haven’t washed since that night and you stink.”

“Guilty as charged,” I said, getting to my feet, but although my head spun a little when I did, I felt it, a sense of purpose. I got shit done—that was my whole identity as a player and a man—so being given something to fucking do helped. I ambled into the bathroom, winced at the sight of the bags under my eyes and my greasy hair, before getting under the shower’s spray and scrubbing every inch of me. Shampoo, conditioner, body wash, a razor, deodorant, it felt like the more steps I took towards being an actual human being, the closer I was to her, and that created enough peace in me to get some sleep that night.

I dreamed of her. Of course I did. As soon as sleep took over, she came. The press of her lips and the bittersweet taste of them, part quinine, part juniper, all her. Then the slip of her tongue against mine, darting forward then retreating the moment I tried to tangle mine with hers, inviting me to take over. To cradle her head in my hands, stroke my hands through her hair, kiss her until she moaned, and then kiss her some more. In dreams you don’t have to go through any steps to get naked, no need to fight with bra straps and undies. You were just naked when you wanted to be, like we both were.

“Adam?”

She looked somewhat surprised to see me as I rolled her under me on the bed. That strange little detail nearly pulled me out of the dream, but the feel of her under me was too seductive to let go of.

“Of course, beautiful,” I said, smiling with my whole heart, something I hadn’t managed to do since she’d left my room. But in my dreams she was with me, always. “I can’t fucking stay away.”

She tried to say something but as I felt the vibration begin deep in her throat, it turned into a sigh as I kissed my way down her swan-like neck.

I felt the bite mark there and smiled against it, fitting my teeth back into the scar and sucking against it. In real life it’d feel fucking amazing any time one of her mates did it, just like it did in her dream now. Her words turned to moans, her hands went to my head and she held me there. My fangs pricked her skin, had her writhing under me, trying to get something, anything to ease the ache inside her.

“Shh… shh…” I whispered, licking along the bite mark and then kissing her hard. “I’ve got you, babe. I’ve got you.”

Because in my dreams, I knew exactly what she needed. I kissed my way down her body, spending inordinate amounts of time on her breasts, her ribs and the sensitive swell of her belly, forcing myself to put off what I really wanted to do. But when her thighs parted, I figured she was inviting me in for a taste. This bear needed her honey bad. I spread her thighs wide and then just stared.

“What?” I heard the curiosity in her voice, then the tinge of concern when she asked again.

“Just storing this away for later,” I told her, and I felt my real life sadness seeping in. I smiled to soften the mood, but she just watched me as though she’d picked up on my emotions. “You taste so fucking good, I haven’t been able to get it out of my head since…” I sighed. “I need it, Freya. I need—”

Anything I might have had to say was cut off as her hand went to my head, rumpling my hair for just a second, the tenderness of that gesture making my heart swell in my chest, even as I knew it wasn’t real. But I could dream, right? Here, in my dream, I hadn’t fucked up. Here, she was mine and I was hers. Here, she knew what I was, what my brother and River were and she loved each one of us with the kind of single-minded dedication I would give her if I could.

“I know what you need.” Her legs spread a little wider. “So take it. Take me.”

Would she be as bold if I ever got my shit together enough to be in this position again? I didn’t know, but I wanted to find out. I grabbed onto that as my goal, the thing my mind always needed to keep me happy, and held it close. Before it had been the Magarey Medal but now that I’d achieved it, the goalposts had moved. I wanted her, us, this: her hand pushing my face right where she needed me, then the sound of her gasp of pleasure after my first lick.

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