Ripped Jeans and Werewolf Kisses

Chapter 37:

Chapter 37:

Camila didn't know how she found herself in his bed that night.

Questioning herself later on, she realised that it was a comfort thing. A familiarity that stemmed from a childhood bond she could not shake. Since he was nomadic these days, the room hadn't changed much in the last two decades. The 'super-wolf' sheets and figurines still painted the perfect picture of boyhood.

It had begun with simple frustration. Frustration that had morphed into anger and had grown sharp claws and teeth before she even had a chance to reign her emotions in. These days she was teetering between fragile stones of losing herself. One slip of the foot and the waves threatened to consume her. And tonight she had felt the water lapping at her feet.

A bubbling cocktail of emotions. The only hand that she wanted to hold was the very same fingertips that pushed her away. And so, she knew retreated into old comforts. Old conversations and old bedsheets.

(A day earlier)

Mason had arrived home the previous night. The trio, Jake included had grabbed a quick but sombre dinner. The brothers were too despondent to antagonise each other and Camila was too heavy-hearted to initiate any form of banter. The atmosphere between them had never been so low in spirit. Even when their grandparents had passed, even when Alpha and Luna Hart had the occasional fight, they'd find themselves always laughing, joking, comforting each other. But that night it seemed that they all had nothing left to give.

Baby girl's heart rate had begun to drop. The doctors had done their tests and had their theories, but Camila knew that even with the gift of modern medicine, a pup was not meant to be without the touch of their mother. No drips, scans or medicine could compare.

When the news was just as unpromising, the next evening, Camila, feeling the strain of being away from her pack, from Taine - she collapsed into herself. She has been outpouring hope to everyone around her, caring for Sammy, Partick. She was glad to do it, but had reached the inevitable point of overload.

She knocked on his door that night, practically fell to pieces in his arms, and let herself be carried in and cared for, in a way that she had so desperately needed.

--

Camila was embarrassed, to say the least. It was a long time since Mason had last played therapist for her. She glanced at the couch he had graciously slept on while she had soaked his bed with her tears.

She opened her mouth to speak but she was cut off.

"Camila don't apologize."

She lifted her head from the pillow. He was now lying next to her.

"How did you know I was going to apologize?"

"I know you, Mila."

She sadly smiled. The fact that he could practically read her mind, didn't surprise her.

He lowered his phone from his face to look at hers. "And because I know you so well, I know that you know, what you need to do."

She laughed. He was speaking in riddles.

"And what is it, that you know, I know, I know I need to do?'

He didn't answer the question. Instead, he let silence fall into the conversation and settle over them like a blanket. It was a silence so comfortable that it could only be attributed to the type of silence shared between lifelong friends.

"I don't want a mate. I have so many other things I love in life, I don't need some she-wolf coming in and shaking that up."

Camila turned her head to look at him. His eyes were on the ceiling. She had figured as much. After his man-whore stage as a younger wolf ended, he had shown no interest in romance of any kind. She always wondered if he had ever fallen for someone. Fallen hard, fallen young. Maybe he had gotten hurt so badly that the scars were too deep to do anything but throw him into a life of travel and disinterest him in the routine of pack life.