Page 78 of Examining the Bond

I blow out a deep breath, letting my cheeks puff up, refusing to meet her eyes. It's easier if it doesn't feel like she's staring into my soul and forcing the words out of me.

“I-I… fucked up, Lana.” My eyes fall to the table in front of me as the truth hits me like a semi truck.

“What did you do?” she whispers gently.

When I don't answer immediately, she reaches across the table to grab my hand, squeezing affectionately.

“I think I met my mate.” A muscle in my jaw ticks at my answer. “And I was too selfish to claim her. Too dense to see past my career. And now… she's gone.”

“Gone?”

I nod slowly. “A thousand miles away.”

Silence settles between us, and she squeezes my hand one more time before letting go. She steeples her fingers beneath her chin, waiting patiently for me to go on.

I don't want to. I'd rather lock it up tight, shove it down, and deal with it later, but I know how that'll end up: with me becoming one with my couch for the rest of my vacation.

“It’s like I carved out a piece of myself,” I say, just as a dull ache throbs in my chest. “We aren't a scent match, at least I'm pretty sure we're not, but itfeelslike we are. Like every molecule in my body needs her to function, and without her, well…”

Lana nods slowly as she listens, occasionally sipping at her drink.

“You know, I can't empathize with the alpha pheromone thing, but for betas we have a word for that.”

I blink, my brows drawing together. “What is that?”

“Love, you dork.” She meets me with a pointed stare. “Take the pheromones and the designations out of it. Forget the science of a scent match. You're in love with her.”

Heat crawls up my neck at the accusation just as our waiter appears with Lana’s food. Her eyes light up as he sits it down infront of her, and she snatches up a French fry, pointing it at me across the table.

“Does she love you?” she asks.

Another pang of pain erupts in my chest, this one stronger than the first, and I bite down hard on my bottom lip to slice through the swell of emotions trying to drown me.

“If she did, I don’t think she does anymore,” I force out.

How could she after I refused to help her? When I put my career before her needs, beforeus? If I was her, I wouldn’t forgive me. I’d never want to speak to me again…

“Have you talked to her?” Lana asks.

“Not since she left.” Or rather, not since she kicked me out of her hotel room and told me she was going to find another alpha. “I can’t bring myself to call her.”

She takes a bite of her fry. “And she hasn’t reached out?”

I shake my head.

“Damn,” she mutters, shoving several more fries in her mouth and chasing it with a swig of her drink. “I’m going to say something, and you’re not going to like it, but I think you need to hear it anyway.”

Mierda.

Here we go with the lecture.

“Go on.” I grab my glass and knock it back, draining the rest of my cocktail.

“Skylar, to be so incredibly smart, you are a fucking idiot when it comes to women.” She deadpans, glaring a hole straight through me. My jaw drops and I attempt to argue, but she holds up a hand to cut me off. “So you fucked up, everyone does. No one is perfect, and neither are relationships, but if she’s your mate—if you don’t think you can do life without her—then you need to stop feeling sorry for yourself and go get your woman.”

I lean back in my seat, rocking my head back to stare up at the ceiling. I know she’s right; she always is. That’s gotta be partof the big sister handbook or something. I blink back the sting burning at the corner of my eyes, my stoic mask snapping back into place, before I look at her again.

“And if I do it all? If I apologize and grovel and do everything I can to get her back… and she still rejects me. What then?”