Unlikely Mates

11

**Chapter Eleven: What We’re Made Of**

Max sat on the edge of his bed, watching the soft light of the early morning filter through the curtains. The aftermath of his heat still lingered in the air, leaving his body sluggish, but more importantly, leaving him time to think. Too much time, perhaps. Bradley had stayed the entire night, keeping Max company without overstepping any boundaries, his presence calm and steady like a rock in the storm. Max had expected it to feel strange, but instead, it had been the most natural thing in the world.

And that terrified him.

Bradley had left just before dawn, giving Max space now that his heat had finally started to wane. The alpha had insisted on checking in later, though, and Max found that the idea didn’t bother him like it once would have. That was part of what scared him, too.

He had spent so long keeping Bradley at arm’s length, resisting the pull between them, refusing to let the alpha get close. Max had told himself that Bradley was just an arrogant jerk, a typical alpha who didn’t care about anyone but himself. But after everything they had been through in the past few weeks—the fights, the tension, the way Bradley had been there for him during his heat—Max wasn’t sure he could keep pretending.

Max ran a hand through his messy hair, staring at his reflection in the mirror across the room. He looked exhausted, drained from the intensity of his heat, but there was something else there, too—something softer in his expression, a vulnerability he wasn’t used to seeing.

The knock on the door startled him out of his thoughts.

Max’s heart skipped a beat as he stood up, knowing immediately who it was. Bradley.

He hesitated for a moment, his hand hovering over the doorknob. Part of him wanted to run, to avoid whatever conversation they were about to have, but another part of him—the part that had leaned into Bradley’s presence during his heat—wanted to open the door.

With a deep breath, Max finally turned the knob and pulled the door open. Bradley stood there, looking more casual than usual in a fitted t-shirt and jeans, his hair slightly tousled like he had run his hands through it too many times. His scent was a mix of fresh air and the familiar, comforting alpha pheromones that had become so ingrained in Max’s senses.

“Hey,” Bradley said quietly, his eyes scanning Max’s face with a level of concern that made Max’s chest tighten. “How are you feeling?”

Max leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest. He wasn’t sure how to answer that question—there were too many emotions tangled up inside him. But he forced himself to respond anyway.

“I’m okay,” Max said, his voice a little hoarse. “Tired, but… better.”

Bradley nodded, his expression softening with relief. “Good. I’m glad.”

There was an awkward pause, both of them standing there in the doorway, neither quite sure what to say next. Max could feel the weight of everything that had happened between them pressing down on his shoulders, and he knew they couldn’t avoid it forever.

“Do you want to come in?” Max asked, stepping aside to let Bradley enter.

Bradley nodded again, walking into the room and glancing around. The space was still a mess from Max’s heat—clothes strewn across the floor, sheets rumpled and tossed aside—but Bradley didn’t seem to care. He just turned back to Max, his expression serious.

“Max, we need to talk.”

Max swallowed hard, closing the door behind him and bracing himself for whatever Bradley was about to say. He knew this conversation was coming—it had been inevitable ever since Bradley had shown up last night. But that didn’t make it any easier.