Page 33 of Her Second-Hand Mate

Do you keep quiet to avoid arguments?

Are you always worried about others’ opinions of you?

Have you ever lived with someone who hits or belittles you?

Are the opinions of others more important than your own?

Do you have difficulty adjusting to changes at work or home?

Do you feel rejected when significant others spend time with friends?

Do you doubt your ability to be who you want to be?

Are you uncomfortable expressing your true feelings to others?

Have you ever felt inadequate?

Are you confused about who you are or where you are going with your life?

Do you have trouble saying “no” when asked for help?

Do you have trouble asking for help?

The questions kept haunting me, and my resounding “yes” to most of them even more so.

???

By the end of August, it was clear that I wasn’t pregnant. The knowledge was a blow, despite all my mental preparations. That voice deep inside me that I used to label “ugly” scolded me for getting this upset over a single failed heat, especially when I compared the experience to what Grace must have been going through for the last five years, but I couldn’t help it.

I pretended to be strong the whole day, but as the sun was setting, it was as if a dam inside me had burst, and the tears just wouldn’t stop.

I wasn’t sobbing or anything. I was sitting on the bed, and they kept flowing. I didn’t understand why Dominic burst into the room like I was being murdered.

“What happened?!” he gasped.

He seemed to have run home from the pack house.

“I’m not pregnant,” I said in a calm tone.

“Okay, but what happened?”

“I’m not pregnant,” I repeated, frowning.

“Why are you crying? What happened?”

“I didn’t get pregnant during my heat!” I yelled as I stood up and fisted my hands at my sides.

His head jerked back as if I’d pushed him.

“That’s why you’re crying?”

“Yes,” I said and I started sobbing.

I held my face in my hands as my shoulders shook, and I felt Dominic’s heat envelop me as he pulled me into a hug. It felt as if a hot mug of mint tea was hugging me.

“You scared me, sweet peach,” he rumbled into my hair, and despite my distress, I arched into him when I heard the endearment. “I thought you were being attacked or something.”

I shook my head no.

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