Page 16 of Protected By The Polar Bear

“Thanks.”

He seems more somber or distracted today, and I frown as I study him. There are dark circles under his eyes, and I want to ask him if he’s been getting enough sleep, but before I can, he speaks up.

“I wanted to talk to you… about us,” he starts.

I pause, wondering what to say to him now. I thought I still had time to figure things out before we had this talk, but I guess not.

“What about us?” I ask hesitantly.

“How long before you move in with me? I can pay to break your lease here,” he says, and I almost get whiplash.

That was not at all where I thought he was going with this. I thought that he was going to ask me how I felt about him and us being together. I thought that maybe he would ask me out on a date or try to make things more official in some way.

“Sorry?” I ask, and he looks around my apartment.

“When are you going to move in with me? So that we can be together,” he repeats, and I drop my sandwich down onto the wrapper and cross my arms over my chest.

“Who said that I was going to move in with you?”

“Why wouldn’t you? We’re mates, and my place is bigger. You won’t have to pay rent.”

I know he’s being logical, but that doesn’t make me feel any better about this.

“We’re not together,” I snap, and he frowns.

“You’re wearing my mark. I claimed you. I know we need to work through things, but we’re together.”

“No, we’re not. Those ‘things’ that we’re working through are if we should be together or not,” I point out, and he narrows his eyes at me.

“Are you seeing someone else?” He asks, his voice low and filled with warning.

“No.”

“Do you want to be with me?” He demands, and I pause.

Yes is the answer, but I’m stubborn.

“How long are you going to make me wait for an answer, Tessa?” He asks, and the words are out before I can stop them or think it through.

“Ninety-seven days.”

“Why that long?” He growls, and I glare right back at him.

“That’s how long you made me wait before you told me we were fated mates or tried to claim me.”

He pushes to his feet, sending his chair flying back until it smacks against the wall.

“I told you why,” he starts, and I shake my head, pushing to my feet, too.

“Not really. You gave me brief details, but you’re still not opening up to me. You want us to be together, but it feels like you’re still keeping me at arm’s length.”

He looks away from me, and I know that he knows I’m right.

“I don’t have time for this. I need to get to work,” he mumbles, stalking towards the door.

I watch him leave, debating between saying something to him and letting him go. Part of me wants to call out to him, apologize for what I said, and give him a chance to open up to me when we’re not glaring at each other. The other part wants him to do the work without me telling him what to do.

Him coming by my apartment and getting to know me better is a good start, but it’s not enough. If we want to be together, we need to trust each other. He needs to let down his guard and tell me more about his past, and I need to forgive him for rejecting me for months. We’re both so stubborn, though.

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