TEMPORARY MATES PERMANENT CRAVINGS novel Chapter 123

One hundred and twenty three

Lisa

+15 Bchus

The suitcase snapped shut. The latch caught with a click that echoed through the bedroom. My mom stared at the luggage. She looked ready to unpack it as she turned her head and looked at me with uncertainty.

“Do I look like I’m trying too hard?”

She had chosen a dress that fit her shape. Her hair was smooth. She had spent time on her face. She looked like a woman who felt alive.

“You need to get laid, Mom. That’s all this is.”

Her eyes flared wide. Her mouth dropped open. She reached out and smacked my arm. “Lisa!”

“You asked.”

She shook her head. Her lips twitched as she fought the urge to give in. “There are things you don’t say to your mother.”

“And there are things you don’t pretend you’re not thinking.”

The annoyance in her eyes lacked heat. She smoothed the front of her dress. Her fingers trembled against the fabric. “You’re impossible.”

“You like me like this. At least I don’t lie to you.”

That took the last of her defense away. She let out a laugh and turned toward the vanity. She fussed with a lock of hair to pull herself together. When she faced me again, the energy had settled into manageable nerves.

“It matters to you,” I said. “So go enjoy yourself.”

She rolled her eyes, but the smile remained. “I can’t believe I’m doing this. I feel like a teenager.”

“You don’t look like one, so relax.”

She laughed again. Her expression shifted. Her eyes softened as she reached out to touch my shoulder. “Life doesn’t stop because something didn’t work the first time. Sometimes it just takes longer.”

I didn’t offer an argument. The words landed exactly where she intended.

“You’ll be okay?” she asked. Her thumb brushed against my collarbone.

“I’m fine. James is here.”

She studied my face for a sign of hesitation. She didn’t seem convinced, but she gave a firm nod anyway.

Outside, the engine of a car vibrated through the gravel by the gate. One of Alpha Kieran’s drivers stood by the door. My mother reached the threshold and stopped. She looked back at the hallway, then at the stairs, and finally

at me.

“Don’t stress yourself,” she said.

“I won’t.”

“Eat properly.”

“I will.”

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ne hundred and hinty thre

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“Rest.”

“Mom.”

The exasperation in my voice pushed her through the door. She climbed into the seat. The driver closed the door with a thud. The gates opened. The car moved forward. It disappeared down the drive without haste. I stood on the porch until the dust settled, then walked back into the house.

The silence hit differently now. The rooms weren’t empty, but they felt hollow.

James had left hours ago for an errand. I wandered downstairs. My boots clicked on the hardwood. I adjusted a picture frame. I ran a finger along the back of a chair. I found myself in the living room, staring at the blank television screen. I flicked it on. The chatter of a broadcast filled the corners of the room.

By the time the front door opened and James returned, the solitude had become a weight.

He moved into the room with energy. He dropped his coat on the floor. He went straight for the dining table where paperwork sat waiting. He slid a packet across the wood toward me.

“Look.”

I leaned over the table. The headers on the forms caught the light. Application packets. Physical requirement lists. Enrollment deadlines.

“You’re serious,” I said.

“Cameron told me to apply. Franklin too. They’ll sponsor me if I get in.”

An hour later, I stood in the kitchen with a knife in my hand. I stared at a peach on the cutting board. I wasn’t hungry, but the task gave my hands something to do. The blade had just pierced the skin when the nausea arrived. It was a wave that centered in my stomach.

I stopped moving. I stood straight. My knuckles were white on the handle of the knife. I waited for the floor to stop tilting.

The thought of the pregnancy surfaced immediately. I didn’t try to fight it. There was no sense in lying to myself when my body demanded attention. The changes had been subtle for weeks. My skin felt tight. I felt exhausted at noon. Certain smells bothered me. This was the next step.

I turned on the tap and rinsed the knife. The water splashed against my wrists. The queasiness didn’t vanish. It settled into an ache. I pressed my hand against my stomach and forced a breath out through my nose.

“Relax,” I whispered.

I picked up a slice of the fruit and put it in my mouth. I hoped the sugar would settle my stomach. The flavor was bitter. I chewed slowly. I swallowed against the rising bile. I pushed the plate to the back of the counter. The idea of eating was gone.

I dried my hands and tried to walk toward the living room. The fatigue hit me. My legs felt heavy. Every movement required effort.

I leaned against the doorframe and closed my eyes. I didn’t feel panicked. I felt hollow.

Stress was the easier answer. My life was a collection of pressures. The priestess was a shadow. Cameron’s absence was an ache. My mother’s departure had stripped away my safety net. It made sense for my body to break under the load.

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hundred and twenty three

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I nodded to the empty room. I chose the simplest explanation because I didn’t have the energy for a complicated one. I left the kitchen and climbed the stairs to lie down.

The evening didn’t bring relief.

The nausea returned in cycles. I would find a moment of peace, only for the taste to return a few minutes later, 1 tried to focus on a book, then on the news. Nothing worked. The exhaustion remained constant. It dragged at my eyelids and slowed my pulse. I kept moving through the house. I performed chores. I stacked mail. I straightened the cushions. I wanted to prove I still had control.

Eventually, the pretense failed. I sat on the edge of the bed and pressed my palms into my eyes.

Pregnancy. Stress. Low blood sugar.

I ran through the list. None of it felt like an emergency. I wasn’t in pain; I was just diminished.

The logic should have been enough to keep me quiet. But the urge to speak the words grew. It was a pressure in my chest. I reached for my phone. I stared at Franklin’s name for a minute before I pressed call.

He picked up on the first ring. I kept my breathing shallow.

“I’ve been feeling off,” I said. My tone was flat. “It’s nothing serious. Probably just the stress. Or the pregnancy.”

The silence on his end lasted a long time. I could hear the sounds of an office behind him.

“You should get it checked,” he said finally.

“It’s fine. I just wanted you to have the information.”

“Get it checked, Lisa.”

I leaned back against the headboard. I knew that tone. He wouldn’t drop it. He would call back every hour until I gave him a different answer.

“Fine.”

He hung up without a goodbye. The line went dead. I was in a darkening room.

The hospital the following morning had beige walls and steady footsteps. Staff moved from room to room without pause. At the desk, a nurse took my name and checked my vitals.

The doctor came in, already reading my file. “Any changes since yesterday?”

“No.”

He nodded and wrapped the cuff around my arm. He adjusted it and watched the gauge. He wrote something down, then moved on.

“Any fatigue?”

“Yes.”

“Sleep?”

“Not enough.”

He made another note. He checked my chart again, then pulled a stool closer and sat.

“Your hormone levels are below range., It’s linked to stress and exhaustion.”

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He wrote on a sheet and handed it to me. “Take these vitamins. Eat properly. Sit down more often. Rest when you can.”

I took the paper. “Alright.”

He gave a short nod and stood. “You’ll be fine.”

I watched him leave, then looked at the list in my hand.

هم

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