Page 15 of The Cheerleader

I don’t want to feel this way. I don’t want to need him like this. But I do, and the worst part is I can’t fight it. I’m not even sure I want to fight it. I close my eyes, breathing deeply, but I’m not sure if it’s to calm myself or to drown out the reality of it.

I want him. I want everything he could offer, but the way he pushed me away after everything that happened between us ... that hurt. It hurt more than I want to admit. I can still feel his voice in my head, the words about how I deserve better, how he’s not good enough for me.

That’s the part that’s breaking me, I think. Not the mating. Not the way my body is craving his touch again, though that’s relentless. No. It’s the way he’s shutting me out. The way he thinks I can’t handle it. Him.

I slip out of bed quietly, my body feeling like it’s been through a war, but I know I won’t find peace if I stay here. I need to think. I need to figure out what to do.

I know the bond is pushing me, calling me to him. I can’t run from it. But I can’t ignore the reality either.

There’s a knock on my door and I freeze. My heart pounds in my chest. There’s no mistaking who it is.

I stare at the brand-new lock on my door. I hesitate, but then the door opens slowly, and he steps inside. His eyes lock onto mine immediately, and I see that conflict there again. The same look he had last night. That same damn war waging in his head.

I take a step toward him, my legs trembling beneath me. “You don’t get to push me away,” I say, my voice rougher than I expect. I won’t let him do it again.

He looks at me, and for a moment, I see him struggling to make a decision. He exhales, his shoulders tense. “I’m not pushing you away, Juliet. I’m trying to protect you.”

“Protect me from what?” I ask, unable to keep the bite from my words. My heart is pounding in my chest, and I can feel the tension in my muscles. I’m tired of this, of him trying to make decisions for me. I’m not a fucking child.

He looks down at the floor for a long moment, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “From me,” he mutters. His voice is low, harsh. “I’m not what you need, Juliet. You deserve someone who can give you more than I can.”

“More?” I don’t even try to hide the frustration in my voice. “Abel, you’re not listening to me. I need you. I need this. I need us. You can’t just shut me out because you’re scared. What are you going to do? We’re bonded, mated.”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he takes a step back, running a hand through his hair. I can see how badly he’s struggling. How torn he is between what the bond is demanding and what he wants to believe is right.

“You think you know what you’re getting into,” he says, his voice strained, “but I’m not the kind of man who can make you happy, Juliet. You deserve someone who isn’t as broken as I am.”

“Stop it,” I snap. “Just stop. You don’t get to make that decision for me.”

My chest is heaving now, and I can feel the tears stinging at the corners of my eyes, though I refuse to let them fall. I won’t cry in front of him. I won’t show him how much he’s getting to me.

“You think this is easy for me?” I continue, my voice shaking. “You think I want to feel this way about you? Do you think I want to be this desperate for someone who doesn’t even think I’m worthy of him?”

I can see the hurt flash in his eyes. His jaw clenches as if he’s fighting to hold back his own emotions.

“You’re too young for this shit,” he mutters, the words nearly breaking me. “And I’m the one who isn’t fucking worthy.”

I feel my breath catch in my throat. The weight of his words crushes me in a way I wasn’t prepared for. The bond is overwhelming. It’s suffocating. And I need him, but he’s not letting me have him.

“I’m not too young for you,” I say, my voice small but steady. “I know what I want. And I want you, Abel. I’ve always wanted you. And Fate has decided we are meant for each other, that you are worthy of happiness, that we both are.”

He looks at me, and I see the flicker of doubt in his eyes. He doesn’t speak for a long time, but when he finally does, his voice is barely above a whisper.

“I can’t give you what you want. I can’t be the man you need.”

“But you already have,” I reply, stepping closer to him. “You already are, Abel. You’re mine. And I’m yours. We’re mates.” The word comes out like a plea, a desperate declaration, and I feel my chest tighten. “You can’t fight it anymore.”

For the first time, I see him falter. His shoulders drop slightly, and the hardness in his face softens just a fraction.

“I’m not the kind of man who’s good for you, Juliet,” he repeats, but now his voice is quieter. Softer. “I have a past I’ll never be able to outrun. I don’t know how to be the kind of man you deserve.”

“Then we’ll figure it out,” I say, reaching up to touch his cheek. “Together.”

He exhales, a deep, frustrated breath. His hands move to my waist, pulling me against him roughly. For a moment, neither of us speaks. The air between us crackles with everything unsaid, with everything we’re not saying. And then, finally, he tilts his head down and brushes his lips across mine.

The kiss is soft at first, tentative. But the pull of the bond, the need inside me, flares up, and I press myself against him harder, deepening the kiss. I need him. I need him like I’ve never needed anything before. I feel it in every part of me, in every fibre of my being.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” he mutters against my lips, his voice shaky. “But I can’t stay away from you, Juliet.”

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