Bigfoot’s Mate (Mates for Monsters: Sasquatch #3)

11. Deborah

CHAPTER 11

DEBORAH

Yesterday…

Once again, I’m on my knees making a sacrifice to the porcelain god in our dorm. My new best friend. We've been spending a lot of time together lately.

I rest my forehead against the cool stone wall of the bathroom cave, willing my stomach to settle. The nausea is back with a vengeance. Just like before. Which means my brief reprieve, that short but magical respite of feeling good and pretending to be healthy and whole, is over.

A soft knock at the door makes me groan. "Occupied.”

"Deborah?" Steph's voice carries through the door. "You okay in there?"

"Fine,” I call back, probably not very convincingly given how hoarse my voice is. "Just...having a moment."

"You sure? Because you've been having a lot of 'moments' lately."

I close my eyes, fighting another wave of nausea. "Really, I'm fine."

"Okay, but... Dafydd's here. Again. Third time today."

My heart clenches. Of course he is. Because he's perfect and wonderful and everything a woman could hope for in a man. Which makes saying goodbye so much harder.

"Tell him I'm busy," I manage to croak out.

“I already did. He said he's not leaving until he talks to you."

Persistent. I've been dodging him for two days, making excuses, ducking around corners in corridors of Grotto to avoid him. He was bound to catch up with me eventually.

"Fine." I push myself up on shaky legs, splash some water on my face, and try to make myself look less like death warmed over. "Tell him I'll be right out."

When I emerge from the dorm, Dafydd is pacing the hall room like a caged animal. His massive form makes the space feel suddenly tiny. The moment he spots me, he freezes.

"Precious..." The word comes out rough, pained.

Oh god, I just want to run to him and leap into his big, strong, furry arms and let him make everything all better. But I can’t. Because he can’t make this better. Not this time.

So I steel myself, channeling my inner ice queen. "What do you want?"

His eyes widen at my cold tone. "What do I...? Deborah, you've been avoiding me for two days. What's going on?"

"Nothing's going on." I move past him. Careful not to make any physical contact with him at all, I occupy my nervous fingers by straightening my already-neat bed. "I've just been busy."

"Too busy to talk to me? To look at me?" He steps closer, and I have to fight the urge to lean into him like I always do. "Too busy to tell me why you suddenly can't stand to be near me?"

My throat tightens. This would be so much easier if he'd just get angry. Yell at me. Be a dick. Give me a reason to push him away. But no, he has to stand there looking all hurt and confused and so damn lovable.

"I just..." I swallow hard. "I think maybe this was a mistake."

"What was a mistake?" His voice drops to a whisper.

"This. Us." The words taste like ashes in my mouth. "I mean, let's be realistic. I'm human, you're..." I wave my hand vaguely at his impressive bulk. "We're different species."

He takes a step back like I've physically struck him. “It didn't seem to bother you before."

"Well, maybe it should have." I stare at his nose because I can’t bring myself to meet his eyes, and it feels like someone's twisting a knife in my chest. "Look, what we had was…fun. A fling. But I belong in the human world. With my own kind."

“Fling?” The word comes out strangled. "What we had was a fling?”

I shrug, going for casual indifference even as my heart shatters. "It was a good time, but it’s over."

“Good time. Over,” he repeats in a slow monotone as though he can’t seem to digest what I’m saying. "So that's it? Everything we shared...it was just…you were just…?”

Oh god, I can't do this. I can’t. I’m breaking his heart. And mine.

"I should go." I move toward the door, but his next words stop me cold.

"You're lying."

I freeze, my back to him. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me." His voice is stronger now, more certain. "You're lying. I know you are. I can hear it in your voice, see it in the way you won't look at me. What I don't know is why."

"I'm not?—"

"Yes, you are." He moves around to face me. "Tell me why. Please. I deserve that much."

The pleading in his voice undoes me. A tear escapes, trailing down my cheek.

His face softens. "Precious..." He reaches for me, but I step back. If he touches me now, I'll crumble.

"Don't." I hold up a hand. "Don't look at me like that. Don't be sweet and understanding and perfect. This is hard enough."

"But—"

“Okay, yes, I'm lying. Because the truth is, I love you. God help me, I love you more than I ever thought it was possible to love a man…or a Sasquatch. But we are from different worlds, you and I. We’re different goddamn species! I don’t believe our species should mix. I’m a… I’m a… Species purist! You belong in your world and I belong in mine. And that's exactly why I have to go."

His face crumples, and it takes every ounce of willpower I possess not to throw myself into his arms.

“Do not try to change my mind.” My voice wavers, but my posture is rigid. “I’ll be leaving today as soon as I can arrange my departure with Frankie.”

My chest feels like it’s caving in and my throat is clogged with unshed tears as I practically sprint back into the dorm room. Not daring to look back, I slam and lock the door. Blindly, I make it to my bed and fall face-down on it before the tears start falling.

It's better this way, I tell myself. Better to break both our hearts now than to put him through watching me wither away. Better to let him remember me like this, still relatively healthy, still whole.

It's the right thing to do. It is.

I spend the next hour sobbing so hard I can barely breathe.