Page 58 of His Bullied Fated Mate

He moved closer, his hands reaching out, and grabbed my shoulder as he bent down. I remember him doing this so many times growing up. He wore the same concerned expression.

“What’s slipping away?”

“My happiness,” I whisper. “My freedom. Who I am. It’s just…disappearing.”

I felt the tears burst to the surface, and he pulled me into his chest as I started to sob.

What he didn’t know was that I no longer had my job. I had quit early this morning. And without a job, I couldn’t keep my apartment. I had an entire life, and each part of it was slipping through my fingers.

“Why didn’t you call me?” he asked, his hand stroking my head.

I didn’t have an answer for him. I was trying to fix it all myself. He sighed and pulled back. “Come on.” He tugged me with him.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

I hadn’t expected Troy to take me home. I stiffened as we pulled up in front of our parents' house. “Troy, I can’t go in looking like this.” I knew that my eyes were still red, and the second they saw that, they were going to ask questions. Questions I didn’t want to answer.

“Well, for starters, they aren’t home. Dad is out working, and Mom just left, and for two, we aren’t going in.”

“Then where are we going?”

“The treehouse.” He hopped out before I could respond.

I shoved my door open, stumbling out. “You’re kidding, right?”

He was already at the gate, unlocking it. He waved at me, and I hurried after him. We slipped into the backyard, and it was exactly as I remembered it being. They still had the swing set that we both kept telling them to get rid of since we were in middle school. They had the grill set by a glass table with six chairs. There was Mom's huge, beautiful garden and the big oak tree.

It wasn’t your basic treehouse because they didn’t want us to outgrow it within a few years. It had stairs leading up into a rather beautiful space. It engulfed the entire treehouse, yet left plenty of space for air to move in.

He started up the stairs, and I followed him. I remembered the countless times I went up here, and I couldn’t help but smile.

He opened the door, and inside was exactly how we left it for the most part. There were fewer kids' stuff up here than I remember.

There was a large yellow rug covering most of the floor. A small couch against the wall and a table in the other corner with two chairs. There was chess sitting out like we’d forgotten we were in the middle of a game all those years ago.

There was artwork that littered the wall. Hand paintings we did when we were little, but you could see the gradual increase in our ability to grow. There was even a portrait of Troy that I had done for art class the year I graduated.

“Wow, I thought for sure Mom and Dad would have gone through stuff up here.”

He shook his head. “Mom always said it was our space.”

I stared at the wall, taking everything in. “Why didn’t you move anything?”

“Because it was more your space than mine.”

I sat down on the couch. “I moved away. I think that gives up the rights to the tree.”

He laughed as he pulled one of the chairs out from the table and sat down. “I guess a part of me always hoped you’d come back. That you’d remember it wasn’t all bad.”

My stomach sank. “I knew it wasn’t all bad, Troy.”

He frowned. “Did he bully you before, Janella?”

I swallowed, not sure how I wanted to answer that. I knew he was talking about Riley. “Yeah. A little.”

He frowned. “Why didn’t you tell me?”