Chapter 50 Patrick
I wake on Tuesday feeling slightly disoriented, like I’ve surfaced from something deeper than sleep.
For a few seconds, I just lie there, staring at the ceiling, trying to place myself — trying to ignore the weight sitting heavy in my chest.
Then it all comes rushing back.
Lottie.
Yesterday.
The way she left.
I sit up abruptly, dragging a hand over my face as if I can physically wipe the memory away before it settles in too deep. I don’t let myself linger on it — don’t let myself replay the moment she walked out that door while I did nothing to stop her.
Because that’s the part that sticks.
Not what we did.
But what I didn’t do.
I swing my legs over the side of the bed and push myself up, stretching until my spine pops, a quiet groan slipping out with the movement. My body protests immediately — sore in places I don’t think I’ve ever been sore before.
It feels like I’ve used muscles that have been dormant for years.
A faint flush creeps up my neck as memories push forward anyway — uninvited and vivid. The way she touched me, the way she moved, the way she seemed to know exactly how to undo me piece by piece.
I exhale sharply, shaking my head.
I’ve had sex before.
But nothing — nothing — comes close to that.
This wasn’t just sex.
It was something else entirely.
Something deeper. Something that lingers.
“Made love,” I mutter under my breath, the words feeling strange and too accurate all at once.
Because that’s what it was.
I glance toward the clock—and immediately jolt.
“Shit.”
11:30.
I’m supposed to meet Cade at twelve.
It takes twenty minutes to get there.
I spring into motion, the calm of a moment ago completely gone. I rush around my room, grabbing clothes and pulling them on as quickly as possible. I nearly lose my balance trying to step into my pants, hopping awkwardly before tipping backward onto the bed with a surprised laugh.
“Jesus—”
I shake my head, still chuckling under my breath as I finally manage to get them on properly.
Once I’m dressed, I grab my outerwear on the way downstairs, shrugging it on mid-step as I head for the door. The moment I open it, a blast of cold air hits me full force.
I physically recoil, taking a half step back.
“…right. Winter.”
For a second, my body protests the idea of stepping out into it.
Then I force myself forward anyway.
I lock the door behind me and make a quick dash to my car, the cold biting at any exposed skin. Once inside, I start the engine immediately, keeping the heat off for a moment — anything is better than that initial blast of freezing air.
I pull out my phone and open my messages.
Running a little late, be there about ten after twelve.
Cade responds almost immediately.
👍 I’ll be there. No rush.
A small smile tugs at my lips as I set my phone down, rubbing my hands together to warm them.
Another cold day.
Winter has settled in completely, and it’s making sure no one forgets it.
Once the car warms up enough, I crank the heat and pull out, heading toward the Riviera.
The drive is uneventful, my mind drifting more than I’d like it to — back to her, to yesterday, to everything I’m trying not to unpack right now.
I push it aside.
One thing at a time.
When I arrive, I park and step out, locking the car behind me before heading inside. The warmth of the restaurant hits almost immediately, chasing away the chill that clung to me during the short walk.
I scan the room until I spot Cade in a booth, already waving me over.
That familiar ease settles in my chest.
I make my way over, and as soon as I’m close enough, he stands. I wrap my arms around him, pulling him into a firm hug as he does the same.
We stay like that for a few seconds — solid, grounding.
Normal.
When we pull back, I slide into the seat across from him.
“Bro, it’s really good to see you,” I say, meaning it more than I expected. “I didn’t realize how much I missed your face until now.”
He laughs, shaking his head. “It’s been a few weeks. I was starting to think you forgot you had a brother.”
I scoff. “Oh, please. You weren’t exactly blowing up my phone either. Don’t act like this is all on me.”
Cade lets out a deep laugh at that, but before he can respond, the server comes by to take our orders. We rattle them off quickly, and once they leave, he leans back slightly, picking up the thread again.
“Yeah, alright, fair,” he admits. “I just figured if you weren’t reaching out, you were buried in work or something. But after a while, I figured I should probably check in before you disappeared completely.”
We go back and forth for a bit, giving each other shit about the lack of contact, but it’s easy — familiar. The kind of conversation that doesn’t require effort.
By the time the food arrives, we’ve slipped fully into that rhythm.
We talk. Eat. Catch up on everything we’ve missed over the past few weeks — work, life, random nonsense that somehow feels important in the moment.
And for a while… it works.
I almost believe I’ve pulled it off.
That nothing about me has changed.
That Cade hasn’t noticed.
But then, as we start winding down, he takes a slow sip of his drink and sets the glass down carefully.
When he looks at me again, his head tilts slightly, eyes sharper now. Observant. Knowing.
And just like that, I know I didn’t get away with anything.
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on,” he asks calmly, “or am I going to have to pry it out of you?”
My stomach tightens.
Of course, he noticed.
I let out a slow breath, my hands coming up to cover my face as I try to gather the courage to actually say it out loud.
Because once I do… it becomes real.
For a moment, I just sit there like that, elbows on the table, staring into the darkness behind my palms, trying to organize thoughts that refuse to line up neatly.
Then I drag my hands down my face and look up.
Cade is still watching me — patient, but sharp. Waiting.
Of course he is.
I take a deep breath… and then it all comes out in one rushed, unfiltered stream.
“Apparently I met my fated mate but she’s my student and there are rules against being with students and she’s ten years younger than me and an alpha — a dominant one — and she came over last night and we… we made love, because I can’t call what that was sex, it was—” I exhale sharply, shaking my head. “It was so much more than that.”
Silence.
Cade just stares at me.
Eyes wide.
Processing.
“You…” He blinks once. Twice. “You met your fated mate?”
I drop my gaze almost immediately, shoulders tightening. “I don’t really believe in that stuff.”
That seems to break something in his composure.
His eyes widen even further — almost comically so.
Despite everything, a quiet snort slips out of me before I clear my throat, rubbing the back of my neck.
“I just…” I trail off, struggling to put it into words.
Cade leans forward slightly, his expression shifting from shock to something more intense. “Why?” he asks. “Why don’t you believe in it?”
I exhale slowly, staring down at the table.
“Because…” I hesitate, then push through it. “Because I don’t like the idea that something else gets to decide who I belong to.” My fingers curl slightly against the tabletop. “Fated mates are… permanent. That’s it. No choice, no questioning, no walking away.” I shake my head. “How do we even know what we’re feeling is real? How do we know it’s not just… this bond forcing it on us?”
Cade watches me carefully, then sighs, shaking his head.
“Pat…” he says quietly, almost disbelieving. “I didn’t know you thought like that.”
I don’t respond.
Because I’m not sure what else there is to say.
He leans back slightly, running a hand through his hair before continuing.
“Being fated mates doesn’t create feelings,” he explains. “It doesn’t control your emotions like some kind of switch. You feel what you feel because it’s you.” He gestures lightly between us. “What it does is remove your ability to ignore it. To suppress it. That’s the difference.”
I frown slightly, but don’t interrupt.
“It doesn’t decide who your fated will be,” he continues. “Or when you meet them. That’s still chance. Still life. The bond just… recognizes it. And once it does, you can’t pretend it’s not there anymore.”
I’m already shaking my head before he finishes.
“That doesn’t answer the question,” I say. “How are we supposed to tell the difference? Between that and just… normal attraction? Normal feelings?”
Cade’s expression softens a little, something almost sympathetic there now.
“You know,” he says simply.
I let out a quiet, skeptical huff.
He continues anyway.
“It’s stronger. Faster. Deeper. Everything hits harder.” His gaze stays steady on mine. “It’s not just attraction — it’s connection. Immediate, overwhelming, impossible to ignore. You don’t build up to it… You’re just in it.”
My jaw tightens slightly.
Because that sounds…
Uncomfortably accurate.
“Meeting your fated?” Cade adds. “That’s as intense as it gets. There’s nothing else that compares. That’s how you tell.”
I look away, swallowing.
He studies me for another second before tilting his head.
“Alright,” he says. “Let me ask you something. Do you believe in soulmates?”
I glance back at him. “Soulmates?”
He nods. “Yeah.”
I hesitate.
That… feels different.
Less rigid. Less absolute.
“Maybe,” I admit. “I guess it’s easier to believe in that than… fate deciding everything.”
Cade huffs out a small laugh. “It’s basically the same thing, Pat. Just a different label. The difference is fated bonds are more… physical. More immediate. Harder to ignore.”
I run my hand over my mouth, exhaling slowly.
“Well,” I mutter, “if that’s the case… I might be in trouble.”
Cade’s brows knit together. “Why?”
I hesitate again — then push forward.
“Because if this is real…” I say slowly, “Then there was a deadline. Something we were supposed to meet before things… escalated.” My stomach tightens. “We missed it.”
His expression shifts immediately — more serious now.
“And that’s why we ended up… together last night,” I finish quietly.
A pause.
Then, more reluctantly:
“And if what you’re saying is true… then that also means I’m probably pregnant.”
The words feel heavy in my mouth.
Unreal.
“I didn’t tell Lottie,” I add, voice lower now. “I couldn’t. I still don’t fully believe any of this, so how am I supposed to explain it to her like it’s fact?”
Cade exhales slowly, shaking his head.
“You have to tell her, Pat,” he says, firm but not harsh. “Whether you believe it or not, she deserves to know what she’s walking into.”
I know that.
I’ve known that.
But knowing and doing aren’t the same thing.
I stare down at the table again, my chest tightening.
“I will,” I say quietly. “I just…”
I trail off.
Because the truth is—
I’m still resisting it.
Still holding onto the idea that this isn’t inevitable.
That we weren’t always meant to find each other.
Even after everything…
I’m still not ready to fully believe that we were going to find each other no matter what.