Chapter 33 The Hurt Never Goes Away

Chapter 33 The Hurt Never Goes Away
William's POV

I woke up to a slice of sunlight streaming onto my face. My body filled with adrenaline as my brain scrambled to recall where I was.
Took about five seconds and then it hit.

I'd fallen asleep in a room from my past. Tge events of the past day replayed in my head at x5 speed and I groaned.
Feeling groggy and exhausted, I dragged myself out the room and the quarters. I locked the doors and placed the key back in its place in the flower pot.

I didn't bother saying goodbye to Dad or Conner. I went straight out the main doors towards my car. Conner was already in his, revving up the engine. He caught sight of me and although I couldn't see it through the thick sunglasses he had on, I was pretty sure he was giving me the stink eye. To prove my hypothesis, he flipped me off as he put the car into gear and sped off.
Maybe hearing his wolf had all been in my head. I hadn't heard Rhys all day anyway. Maybe I mistook him for Conner’s wolf.

I needed a long shower and a long nap in my own bed.
As I got closer to my own house, I saw a familiar mop of curly brown hair on the porch.
Melanie?

Her head perked up as though she'd heard her name through my mind. I watched as a relieved smile flooded her face.
Rhys, who had been completely silent since Saturday morning suddenly piped up and growled., "Mine!". I forced myself to clamp down the smile that had appeared on my face.

“Where did you go?" She asked, walking to meet me before I pulled into the garage.
“My dad's place. What are you doing here?" I asked then held up a hand to stop her from answering while I parked in the garage. She followed the car in and waited till I turned the engine off.

I stepped out and did a double take as I stared at her. I'd never seen her in anything other than her uniform. She wore a one size too big pair of jeans pants, cream coloured loafers, a jute bag and a white and grey patterned sweater I could only describe as ‘froopy’.
“What is it? Did I get ketchup on my sweater?" She asked, looking down at herself and checking for stains.
" No. Although that might've been an improvement.” I muttered as I fiddled with the keys to my apartment.

" Har har.” She rolled her eyes at me." You were at your dad's place for the weekend?”
" Just for yesterday. Conner and I.”
" Ooh. Did you put in a good word for me?” She asked perkily and the look of annoyance on my face made her flinch. " I was only kidding. Yikes.”

" I did not put in a good word for you, Mel. Didn't quite have the time. You still haven't told me what you're doing here.”
“Coaching lessons. Remember?"

I finally got the door open. “Coaching? It's the weekend."
“Yeah but we only have one month and you never gave me a specific date to show up for the next lessons so I came yesterday but…."
“You were here yesterday? Melanie, I never said anything about weekend coaching." I tried to sound stern. Annoyed even, but deep down I was excited she was here. Her face was a refreshing sight after the ordeals of the previous day.

She shrugged, " I was bored at home.”
I pretended to sigh in exasperation and walk over to the kitchenette. " Tea? And don't you fucking laugh.”
" Why would I?” She hopped up on one of the stools, her face red from holding back laughter.
" With or without some butter biscuits?”

She puffed her cheeks out as she tried to swallow her laughter, " Yes I would like some biscuits. And some crumpets if you've got them.”
I rolled my eyes and popped some biscuits into the microwave as she dissolved into a fit of giggles.

“Do you make them yourself?"
“Mostly." I hopped on another stool and faced her. " Don't you bake your own pastries?”
" Uh no. Mum used to bake but she didn't exactly have the time to pass on the skill. I make amazing pancakes though.”

" Used to?”
" Yeah. Before she um…passed.” There was a beat of silence where she stared at the kettle on the stove. Then she turned back to me with her eyes wide, “You lost your mum too right?"

“Yeah. When I was five." I tried to find something else to say to change the subject but Melanie was quicker.
“The hurt never fully goes away does it? I was eight when it happened. On some days it still feels like yesterday.”

" How?” I asked before I could stop myself.
" Boating accident. The uh,..life guards didn't get to her in time. She was on a delegation trip to an allied pack.”

The kettle whistled and I got up to retrieve tea bags and mugs.
“Delegation? Your mum was a pack official?"
“In a way, yeah. She was an aide to one of the ambassadors and went on trips with them."

I frowned in confusion. How did the daughter of an ambassadorial aide end up living in one of the poorest parts of the city and relying on a scholarship to get into a private school?

“What about your dad?" I asked.
“Still alive and kicking."
“Yeah I know that. I mean what does he do for work?"
“Oh. He works in the mines."

I handed her a hot mug of chamomile tea and she took an appreciative whiff.
“How much does he make?" I asked.
“Not a lot." She shrugged. “He does his best and I'm proud of him for that. He was never quite the same after mum died though. Never got his spark back."

I tried to recall what my dad was like before the death of my mother. The memories I had of him were very little but I did remember laughing a lot. He still has a certain twinkle in his eyes now but the spark really was gone.
That's what happens to you when you lose a mate. You become a shadow of your former self. Some wolves declare they can't keep living with the pain and so they end their own lives.

I didn't believe in the mate bond. Didn't believe one person should have that much power over another’s life.
I watched Melanie as she sipped gently on her tea and nibbled the biscuit I set on a small plate between us.

Even with the mate bond not fully blossoming between us, I could feel that insistent pull. That heightened desire. I wanted to flick the lock of hair hanging by the side of her forehead, wipe away the biscuit crumb stuck to the corner of her lips.

Her lips.

I blinked rapidly, clearing my head.
“Coaching session today, we'll be working on your fashion sense." I said as seriously as I could manage.
“Well that was a complete change in topic." She giggled and then added seriously, “ And you don't like the sweater, I get it….."

" Oh it's not just the sweater. It's everything. The shoes, the pants…. Couldn't you find anything in your size?”
"These are my size.” She grumbled.

"You're entitled to think that. But as your coach, I'm entitled to tell you that's a bag of poo.”
" Screw you “ She threw a biscuit at my head and I ducked out of missile range. " Don't tell me you can actually teach me how to dress like Eva and her girls?”

" Even better. You're going to learn to dress like me.”