Page 121 of Pick Me Up On Tuesdays

There, drawn in the clumsy scrawl of a child, were two stick figures standing beneath the grand outline of the country. They were holding hands. The drawing was simple, almost laughably so, but there was something undeniably touching about it.

Ethan exhaled, brushing a hand over the old sketch. "I made this when I was a kid," he said, his voice softer now. "Back then, I had this dream—to visit all these places. To see them, to experience them, to make memories. But…I didn’t want to do it alone."

I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. "You—"

"I wanted a mate," he continued, eyes fixed on the old drawing. "Someone to take the journey with. Someone who’d bethere, through it all. I guess I thought…if I imagined it enough, if I wished hard enough, maybe one day, I’d find them."

My fingers twitched at my sides. The weight of his words settled over me, heavy and suffocating.

I looked at him then, really looked at him. Ethan—Paramount High’s golden boy, the troublemaker, the reckless demon who’d spent the past few weeks sneaking out and dragging me into ridiculous situations. Ethan—the guy I couldn’t seem to stop watching, the one I couldn’t seem to shake, no matter how hard I tried.

His eyes met mine, blue and intense, searching for something in my expression. My heart pounded against my ribs, loud and insistent.

Then he said it.

"Clark," his voice was steady, sure, "I think you’re that mate."

The world stilled.

My breath caught, my mind raced, and I didn’t know what to say.

Chapter 36: Not His Mate

No. No, no, no.

I wasn’t his mate. I couldn’t be. Not to a demon. Not after everything.

My breath came sharp and uneven as the weight of his words crashed into me. The walls of his old childhood room suddenly felt suffocating, the air too thick, the memories clinging to the space like cobwebs I couldn’t brush away.

I turned on my heel, my sneakers scuffing against the dusty floorboards. Without another word, I stormed out.

Ethan called my name, but I ignored him. My mind was a storm, raging and relentless. My pulse pounded in my ears as I shoved past the broken doorframe, down the creaking stairs, and out into the cold night. The wind bit at my skin, but I barely felt it.

This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening.

I wasn’t his mate.

I retraced our path back to the motel, my thoughts spiraling with each step. The overgrown grass tangled around my ankles, and the streetlights cast long, flickering shadows on the pavement. I hated how much I had let myself lower my guard, how much I had let him in, even just for a moment.

The motel came into view, its neon sign buzzing softly in the otherwise quiet night. I climbed back through the window and into our shared room, but sleep didn’t come. How could it? Mymind refused to let me rest, replaying Ethan’s words over and over again like a curse I couldn’t shake.

I kept waiting to hear the window creak, for Ethan to climb back inside. But the night stretched on, and he never came.

The unease settled deep in my bones. He had to come back eventually, right?

For a fleeting second, I felt like turning to check whether he was back, but then I stopped myself. No. I refused to dwell on it. I refused to care.

When morning finally arrived, I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the wall, feeling more exhausted than when I had laid down. The dim motel light cast soft shadows over the room, but I didn’t turn to see if Ethan had slipped in at some point while I wasn’t paying attention. I didn’t want to know.

But he was there. He had come back. I didn’t speak to him. Not as I grabbed my bag. Not as I walked out the door. Not as I stepped onto the bus.

The others were chattering, shoving bags into overhead compartments, claiming their seats. Joy waved a hand in front of my face, saying something about breakfast, but I barely heard her. My focus was set on one thing—avoiding Ethan.

I spotted him out of the corner of my eye, his usual confidence replaced by something quieter, more unreadable. He hesitated before stepping onto the bus, and for a brief moment, I thought he might say something. I steeled myself, ready to ignore him, to shut him out completely.

But he didn’t speak. Instead, he simply walked past me, slipping into a seat near the back.

I exhaled sharply and took the first available seat, as far from him as I could get.

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