Chapter 64 Lottie
Sandy takes a couple of steps back, her movement small but immediate—like she can feel the shift in me.
Like she knows.
“What—what are you—?” she starts, her voice faltering.
I shake my head, cutting her off.
“Tell me the truth, Sandy,” I say, my voice low, tight with something I’m barely holding in check. “What have you done?”
She exhales slowly, shoulders dropping as if something inside her finally gives way.
The fight drains out of her.
“I saw you,” she says quietly. “You and the professor you TA for. I saw you in his office on Friday afternoon.”
My chest tightens.
“You were kissing,” she adds, her gaze flicking up to mine. “Not just… a little. You were deeply kissing.”
My eyes widen.
“That’s why you’ve been acting weird?” I ask. “Since Friday? Why didn’t you just say something then?”
She shrugs, but there’s nothing casual about it.
“I was angry,” she admits. “And hurt. That you didn’t tell me. That you kept something like that from me.”
I raise a brow, disbelief cutting through the tension.
“Are you sure you weren’t angry because it ruined your chances with me?”
Her head snaps up, glare sharp and immediate.
“Whatever you think,” she says, her voice hardening, “I’m perfectly happy with Sylvie.”
I roll my eyes.
“For how long?” I shoot back. “How long are you going to pretend you didn’t want me more than you wanted her?”
Her glare deepens, something uglier creeping in.
“You’re so full of yourself, Lottie,” she snaps. “You really need to get over yourself.”
I shake my head, done with that part of the conversation.
“Forget all of that,” I say sharply. “What did you do after you saw us?”
She hesitates.
Just for a second.
Then shrugs, too casually.
“I didn’t do anything at first,” she says. “Until today.”
A cold dread starts to settle in my stomach.
“I went to the dean this morning,” she continues. “And I showed him the photo I took.”
For a second, everything goes still.
Then a low, involuntary growl slips past my lips.
Sandy flinches, taking another step back.
“Why?” I demand. “Why didn’t you just come talk to me?”
“I tried!” she fires back, frustration breaking through. “I tried talking to you for months, Lottie! And every time, you shut me out—‘I’m fine,’ ‘It’s nothing’—but you were never fine!”
Her voice shakes now, emotion spilling over.
“I thought you were stressed because you were sneaking around with your professor,” she says. “Because you knew it was wrong. How long have you been sleeping with him?”
The way she asks it—so casual, like it doesn’t matter—makes my jaw tighten.
But I can see it in her posture.
She wants to know.
Badly.
“I wasn’t ready to talk about it when you first started asking!” I snap. “And if you had come to me one more time after you saw us, I would have told you!”
My voice rises despite myself, frustration and anger boiling over.
“I would’ve told you he’s my fated mate,” I continue, my chest heaving. “That I couldn’t resist him anymore! That no matter how much I fought it, it didn’t matter!”
I shake my head, the memories hitting all at once.
“We fought it, Sandy. For three months. Three long months,” I say, my voice breaking slightly. “But in the end, fate didn’t give us a choice.”
I step closer, my gaze locked onto hers.
“I was finally ready to tell someone,” I add. “Because we had just come to terms with what we are to each other.”
My lips curl slightly.
“But instead, you decided to play ‘jealous Jessie’ and run to the dean.”
She flinches hard at that, her eyes going wide.
“I’m sorry,” she says quickly, her voice trembling. “Lottie, I didn’t know. You’re right—I should’ve come to you again. I should’ve talked to you.”
She swallows.
“And yeah… I was jealous,” she admits quietly. “I couldn’t help it. I kept asking myself what you saw in someone so… old. When I’m right here. Younger. Pretty.”
Another growl rips out of me before I can stop it.
She recoils again.
“He’s not old,” I snap. “He’s ten years older than me, that’s it. He’s still young.”
My hands clench at my sides.
“And now we have to deal with this—all of this—because you couldn’t control your jealousy.”
I turn away from her, anger simmering just beneath the surface.
“Thanks a lot.”
Behind me, I hear her shift, like she’s about to say something else.
She doesn’t.
I don’t wait.
I pull out my phone and start walking, my fingers flying across the screen.
\[It was Sandy. She told the dean in a fit of jealousy after she saw us kissing on Friday. She just told him today.\]
I hit send.
Then immediately press call.
This isn’t something we can handle over text.
The phone barely rings once before he answers.
“Lottie—” His voice is shaky. Breathless. On the edge of breaking. “What are we going to do?”
The way he says we—
It steadies me instantly.
I take a breath, forcing myself to stay calm.
“We tell the truth,” I say firmly. “They have to have contingencies for fated mates. They’re rare, but they’re not unheard of.”
I start pacing slightly, my free hand tightening around my scarf.
“We have proof,” I continue. “And your professor—she can vouch for us, right?”
There’s a pause.
Then I hear him exhale, the tension in his voice easing just a little.
“You’re right,” he says. “They have to have something in place for situations like this.”
Another breath.
“My old professor won’t hesitate to speak on our behalf,” he adds. “I just need to reach out to her and see how quickly she can come.”
I nod, even though he can’t see me.
“Okay,” I say quietly.
Because now—
This is really happening.
As soon as I hang up with Patrick, I don’t hesitate.
I call my mom.
The phone rings twice before he answers.
“Hey, honey,” he says, his tone light, easy. “What’s going on? It’s unusual to hear from you this frequently so close together.”
My grip tightens slightly around my phone.
“Mom…”
That’s all it takes.
I can practically hear the shift in him—the way he straightens, the way his attention sharpens.
“Lottie,” he says, his voice firmer now. “What’s going on?”
I take a breath.
“The dean knows,” I say. “About the professor and me.”
The words feel heavy in my mouth.
“They want to have a meeting with him about his ‘sexual misconduct with a student.’”
There’s a pause on the other end.
Then a soft sigh.
“Oh, Lottie…”
There’s no judgment in his voice. Just concern.
“Is there anything in your student handbook about fated mates?” he asks after a moment. “Especially between students and staff? There has to be something—some kind of exception or workaround. Rules like that don’t usually account for bonds like yours.”
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
“That’s… actually a really good place to start,” I admit. “Thanks, Mom. I’ll look into it as soon as I get home.”
He chuckles softly, the tension easing just a little.
“Anytime, hon. I’m just glad you’re finally talking to me about what’s going on in your life.”
A small laugh slips out of me.
“Hush, Mom,” I say. “I didn’t talk about it because I didn’t even know what was going on myself. Or what was going to happen. Now that things are… more stable, I don’t mind sharing.”
I can hear the smile in his voice when he responds.
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll take it,” he says. “So—when is this meeting?”
“Tomorrow,” I say. “The dean wants to see him tomorrow.”
I pause, then add firmly, “I’m going with him.”
There’s no hesitation in my voice now.
“I’m not letting him face that alone. This is about both of us.”
“As you should,” my mom says immediately. “Always stand by your omega.”
Something warm settles in my chest at his words.
“I love you, baby,” he continues. “Call me as soon as it’s over, okay? I want to know everything.”
“I will,” I promise.
There’s a brief pause before he adds, more cautiously, “How did the dean find out?”
A sigh slips from my lips.
“It was Sandy,” I say. “My best friend.”
Even saying it feels wrong.
“I should’ve seen it coming,” I admit quietly. “She’s… always wanted more from me. But I ignored it. I only had eyes for Patrick once I met him.”
I shake my head slightly, even though he can’t see me.
“She saw us kissing in his office on Friday,” I continue. “But she waited until this morning to report it.”
My mom hums softly, sympathy threading through the sound.
“I’m so sorry, love,” he says. “I wish I could handle this for you.”
I smile faintly.
“But I think you’re more than strong enough to handle it yourself,” he adds. “And to protect your omega.”
My chest puffs slightly at that.
“I will,” I say, my voice steady. “His happiness is my priority.”
“Aww,” he coos softly. “I’m so proud of you, lovebug.”
“Thanks, Mom,” I reply, smiling despite everything. “I know I have to stay strong for him.”
There’s a strange sound on the other end of the line—something between a hiccup and a sob.
“Aww,” he says, his voice suddenly thick. “My baby is growing up.”
I roll my eyes, though I can’t stop the small laugh that escapes me.
“As I should,” I say lightly.
There’s a pause.
Then, softer this time—
“Yes, you should,” he says. “But I kinda don’t want you to. I want you to stay my baby forever. Always needing me.”
That earns a real laugh from me.
“I’ll always be your baby, Mom,” I say, my tone gentler now. “No matter how old I get. I’ll always need you.”
A sniffle comes through the line.
I groan.
“Mom, please don’t cry,” I say. “Where’s Dad?”
Another sniffle.
“He’s downstairs,” he says. “Either napping or watching football.”
A beat.
“Possibly both.”
I chuckle.
“Go wake him up,” I say. “Tell him I said he needs to comfort you.”
I pause, softening my tone.
“Everything’s going to be okay.”
And for the first time since all of this started—
I believe it.