Chapter 70 Patrick
Lottie drives us back to my place.
The ride is quiet—but it isn’t uncomfortable.
There’s something full about the silence, like everything that just happened is still settling between us. The rain taps softly against the windshield, the steady rhythm of the wipers filling the space where words don’t quite feel necessary.
I watch her from the corner of my eye, unable to help myself.
Her profile is… striking.
Calm. Focused. Beautiful in a way that feels almost unfair.
A few strands of her honey-blonde hair have slipped loose from her ponytail, brushing softly against her shoulders with every movement. My fingers twitch with the urge to reach out, to tuck them behind her ear—to touch her, just because I can.
But I hesitate.
I’m not sure we’re there yet.
That thought barely has time to settle before we stop at a light, and Lottie turns her head toward me.
Her gaze softens instantly when it meets mine—warm, open, full of something that makes my chest tighten.
Without a word, she reaches out.
Her fingers brush lightly across my face as she tucks my hair away from my eyes.
The touch is gentle.
Intentional.
And it sends a rush of tingles racing through me, quick and electric.
I freeze for half a second, heat rising to my cheeks.
I guess we are there.
I just didn’t realize it.
The light changes, and she turns back to the road as if nothing happened, but my skin still hums where she touched me.
We pull up in front of my house a few minutes later.
Before I can even reach for the handle, she’s already out of the car, moving around to my side. She opens the door and offers me her hand, helping me out like it’s second nature.
Like I’m something worth taking care of.
I take my keys from my pocket, unlocking the door, but she’s the one guiding me inside—steady, sure, like she’s done this a thousand times before.
Like she belongs here.
Like we belong here.
She leads me upstairs, into my room, and the moment the door closes behind us, the world outside seems to fall away.
Everything that follows is quiet and close and consuming—not rushed, not uncertain, but deliberate.
Intentional.
Like she’s showing me, in every way that matters, exactly what I mean to her.
Hours later, I wake slowly, tangled in the sheets with Lottie beside me.
For a moment, I don’t move.
I just lie there, staring up at the ceiling, letting the weight of everything settle.
It’s still a little hard to believe.
That this is my life now.
That she’s here.
That we made it through today.
That we’re… okay.
The thought lingers until something clicks in my mind.
Dr. Marin.
I sit up abruptly, careful not to disturb Lottie, and reach for my phone on the nightstand. My fingers move quickly as I pull up her contact and press the call button.
It rings a few times before she answers.
“Hey, Pat!” she greets warmly. “How are things going? Did everything work out for you?”
I let out a breath.
“That’s actually why I’m calling,” I say. “My relationship with my student—it’s been discovered. The school knows. I need you to come and confirm what you told me about fated mates… or we’ll face disciplinary action.”
There’s a pause on the other end.
“Oh, Pat… I’m sorry to hear that,” she says. “Let me check my schedule.”
I hear rustling for a moment before she comes back.
“Looks like I won’t be free for almost two weeks. I can be there in twelve days.”
Twelve days.
It’s close.
Too close.
But it’s all we’ve got.
“Okay,” I say. “That works. They gave us a two-week deadline, so… if you can make it by then, we should be okay.”
“No worries,” she replies. “I’ll be there. Anything for my favorite student.”
Relief washes through me.
“Thank you,” I say sincerely. “I really appreciate it.”
There’s a brief pause before her tone shifts slightly.
“Pat… if you don’t mind me asking… what happened with your fated mate?”
I glance over at Lottie, still sleeping peacefully beside me, her breathing slow and even.
Warmth spreads through my chest.
“I, uh…” I hesitate, then push forward. “The deadline came. And so did she. We completed the bond.”
I swallow.
“And… I’m pregnant.”
There’s a sharp intake of breath on the other end.
“Oh, Pat…”
“It’s okay,” I say quickly. “I’m not upset about it. I was at first, but… this needed to happen. It made everything real. I can’t deny it anymore.”
I look at Lottie again, something soft settling in my chest.
“She’s my fated mate,” I add quietly.
Another pause.
“Are you okay with that?” Dr. Marin asks gently. “With the choice being taken from you?”
I think about it for a moment.
Then answer honestly.
“I was upset at first,” I admit, slower this time. “But what I feel for her… I don’t want that to change. And knowing she feels the same way—it makes it easier. She loves me. The same way I love her.”
I let out a small breath.
“She’s my alpha. I don’t want anyone else.”
The relief in her voice is clear when she responds.
“Well, that’s good to hear. I’m glad things worked out—even if it wasn’t how you planned.”
“Me too,” I say.
We wrap up the call shortly after.
When the line goes quiet, I exhale slowly, tension easing from my body.
Dr. Marin will come.
She’ll confirm everything.
We’ll be okay.
I set my phone down and lie back beside Lottie, instinctively moving closer to her warmth—
And then another thought hits me.
Cade.
I sit up again with a soft groan, grabbing my phone once more.
I pull up his contact and type out a message.
\[Hey, bro. It’s been a while. I have to tell you something—can we meet for lunch or dinner on Thursday?\]
His reply comes almost immediately.
\[Hey, bro! Yeah, that’s doable. Wanna share right now?\]
I chuckle quietly to myself.
Same old Cade.
\[Nah, it’d be better face-to-face.\]
\[Okay, no worries. You’ve got me curious now.\]
\[Haha, you’ll find out soon enough. See you Thursday.\]
\[Lol, see you Thursday, bro. Love you.\]
I smile faintly as I type back.
\[Love you too.\]
I set my phone aside again and finally settle back down, turning slightly toward Lottie.
This time, when I close my eyes—
Sleep comes easily.
I wake again—I’m not even sure how much later this time.
The room is quieter.
Warmer.
And filled with the most incredible smell.
Something rich and savory with hints of Lottie's cold pine scent beneath drifts through the air, wrapping around me and pulling me fully out of sleep. I blink up at the ceiling for a moment, disoriented, before turning my head instinctively—
Lottie’s gone.
The space beside me is cool, the sheets slightly rumpled where she had been. But the scent of food cooking tells me that I'm not home alone.
She didn’t leave.
She’s just… downstairs.
The thought feels oddly domestic.
Comforting.
That alone makes something settle in my chest.
I grunt softly as I push myself up, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. The moment I stand, I feel it—an ache running through my body, deep and lingering.
Soreness.
But not unpleasant.
Not even close.
If anything, it makes heat bloom under my skin as flashes of memory surface—her hands, her voice, the way she held me like I was something she never wanted to let go of.
I huff out a quiet breath, rubbing the back of my neck, feeling the slightly raised edges of her mark.
“Yeah,” I murmur to myself. “She definitely knows what she’s doing.”
Not that I’m complaining.
Not even a little.
If anything, I love it.
Shaking my head, I pull on something comfortable before heading downstairs, following the scent that’s only gotten stronger.
It leads me straight into the kitchen.
And the sight there—
It stops me for a second.
Lottie stands at the counter, plating food with an ease that makes it look second nature. Steam curls up from the dish, carrying that rich, garlicky aroma that makes my stomach twist with sudden hunger.
She looks… at home.
Like she belongs here.
Like this is normal.
My chest tightens at the thought.
“What’s this?” I ask, leaning slightly against the doorway. “I didn’t know you could cook.”
She glances up at me, a small, pleased smile tugging at her lips.
“This is garlic sauce chicken pasta,” she says. “My mom loves to cook—he taught us young. I used to hang around the kitchen whenever he was making something.”
Her smile softens slightly.
“Not only did I get first taste,” she adds, “but I picked up a lot of really good recipes.”
Something about the way she says it—so casual, so fond—makes the words slip out of me before I can think.
“I’d love to meet your parents.”
The second it leaves my mouth, I freeze.
What?
I mentally facepalm so hard it almost hurts.
How did I get there? How did we jump from cooking to meeting her parents?
I open my mouth to backtrack—
But Lottie’s reaction stops me.
Her smile widens.
Bright.
Genuine.
“They’d love to meet you, too,” she says easily. “Especially my dad.”
Then she flushes slightly, rubbing the back of her neck in a way that suddenly feels… shy.
“I kind of already told them Spring break would be a good time for that.”
“Oh.”
That’s… soon.
Really soon.
Like end-of-semester-in-a-couple-of-weeks soon.
I blink, trying to process that, when she quickly adds—
“I mean—you don’t have to. If it feels too fast—”
“No!”
The word comes out quicker than I expect, louder too.
I clear my throat, trying to regain some composure.
“I mean… no,” I repeat more evenly. “I want to meet them.”
And I do.
The realization settles in as I say it.
“Spring break will be fine,” I continue. “It’s… probably better not to put it off anyway.”
I nod slightly, more to myself than anything.
“That’ll give me time to prepare. Dr. Marin should be here by then, so we’ll have everything settled with the school. And… we’ll be a little more settled too.”
Lottie nods, clearly pleased.
“I think so too,” she says. “You don’t have anything to worry about. They’ll love you.”
Her gaze softens as she adds—
“Just like I do.”
Warmth spreads through me instantly.
“And,” she continues with a small grin, “you get bonus points for being the first mate out of all their kids.”
I laugh softly.
“That’s a lot of pressure.”
She just shrugs, amused.
“You’ll be fine.”
I tilt my head slightly.
“So I’ll meet your siblings then, too?”
“Most likely,” she says. “Though we could probably set something up with Charlie before then. I doubt he’ll be home for Spring break if Jordan has anything to say about it.”
“Jordan?” I repeat, curiosity sparking.
That name feels… familiar.
“Yeah,” she says. “Jordan’s my brother’s best friend.”
Something clicks into place.
Memories from Christmas surface—Jordan talking, laughing, mentioning someone named Charlie more than once.
I blink.
“Jordan Hale?” I ask slowly.
“Yeah, I think—”
She stops mid-sentence.
Her eyes widen.
“Oh, shit.”
I can’t help but smile.
“How did I never make that connection?” she mutters.
I chuckle softly, shaking my head.
“It’s a small world,” I say.
And suddenly—
It feels even smaller.