Emma's Mate (Book 1)

Chapter 38

Emma Smith

It had been three more days since I’d spoken with Ashton about Ava, and a total of twelve days since the attack. This morning, Ashton was feeding me breakfast—grilled sausage, scrambled eggs, a hearty portion of bacon, and a side of sweet potatoes. The breakfast was typical of what the pack hospital served, rich in protein and nutrients meant to speed up recovery for werewolves. While I appreciated how much it was helping my body heal, something about the meal felt impersonal. I craved something simpler, more comforting—something that reminded me of mornings at home, where everything felt warm and familiar.

I was feeling better, stronger. If I had to rely on human healing, it would have taken me six to eight weeks to recover, but thanks to warlock Alastor Grimwald's potions, my body was healing much faster. Dr. Miller had told me I would be discharged within three to four days. After that, I’d need another week of rest before starting physical therapy. I couldn’t wait to regain control over my life and face Ava. That meeting loomed over me, but it also felt like the closure I needed.

As Ashton fed me breakfast, I found myself lost in thought, preparing mentally for the day ahead. I had a meeting scheduled with Ethan in the afternoon and then another with warlock Alastor Grimwald in the evening. The thought of talking to Ethan didn’t worry me as much, but Alastor... I couldn’t explain it. The odd sense of familiarity I felt around him made me both curious and unsettled. Over the last few days, we’d only exchanged small pleasantries—polite thank-yous, brief inquiries about my recovery—but nothing substantial. Today, however, I knew we would have a real conversation. I had questions, and deep down, I feared I wouldn’t like the answers.

After breakfast, Ashton surprised me by kissing me passionately, his lips lingering longer than they had in days. For the first time since the incident, he kissed me deeply, without the hesitation that had shadowed his every touch, fearing he might hurt my neck. My heart swelled as I kissed him back with the same intensity. It was as if he was reassuring me, reminding me that we were healing, together. He pulled away with a playful wink, promising to return in the afternoon with Ethan for our conversation, before leaving for his alpha duties.

I spent the rest of the morning trying to distract myself—reading, undergoing pain management therapy, and dozing off when I could. Yet, despite my best efforts, the nerves returned. I kept rehearsing how I’d approach my meeting with Ethan and then Alastor later in the evening. When it was finally time for lunch, Ashton strolled in with his usual happy smile, but I could see the tension beneath it.

The nurse wheeled in my lunch—a hearty broth, grilled steak, roasted chicken, and a side of root vegetables—the typical fare in the pack hospital. The rich scent of the meal, designed to help werewolves heal faster, filled the room, but the repetition was beginning to wear on me. As nutritious as the meals were, the routine felt heavy, weighed down with the sameness of hospital life. Ashton joined me as he always did, taking his seat beside me with his own identical tray of hospital food. He had been eating the same meals as me every day—breakfast, lunch, and dinner—just to keep me company and cheer me up. I appreciated the gesture, but I still found myself longing for something with more flavor, more love—like the mashed potatoes my mother had made or the chicken pasta Ashton had prepared for me a few days ago. Those two meals had broken the monotony, and I missed the sense of home they brought.

I made a face of disgust, pushing the plate away slightly. “Dr. Miller only allowed outside food twice, and those were the best meals I’ve had here,” I muttered.

Ashton chuckled, his voice warm with affection. “Come on, Emy, just a few more days, and I’ll make you whatever you want. Full menu—anything you ask for.” His tone was light, teasing, but I could sense the underlying anxiety. He wanted me to eat, to get stronger, but I could tell he was worried about what lay ahead—our meeting with Ethan and what we would have to face with Ava.