75
Pecan's pov
I stood in the kitchen, absently washing a plate that had been sitting in the sink since breakfast. The rhythmic motion of my hands was the only thing keeping my thoughts from spiraling into chaos. Noah's words echoed in my mind like a relentless drumbeat.
"It's your fault. You should have stayed away from him."
His voice, filled with anger and hurt, replayed over and over again, each word cutting deeper than the last. How could he say that to me? Did he not realize I didn't choose this? The mate bond was a force greater than anything I could control,a relentless tide that pulled me toward Paul whether I wanted it or not.
I scrubbed the plate harder, the ceramic nearly slipping from my fingers.
"Get a grip, Pecan," I whispered to myself, but it didn't help.
