My Cheating Mate (Emma and Jeremy) novel Chapter 46

Chapter 46

My Cheating Mate

Jeremy pov

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I wasn’t fully asleep. The pain medication made everything hazy, distant, like I was underwater. But I could hear voices Emma and Aria talking quietly, thinking I was unconscious.

I should have let them know I was awake. Should have said something

But I couldn’t. Because what they were saying was too important, too raw, too honest for me to interrupt.

“I’m terrified of loving him again. Of trusting him. Of being that vulnerable with someone who’s already destroyed me once.

Emma’s words hit like a physical blow, even though I’d heard variations of them before. Hearing the fear in her voice, the pain, knowing I’d put it there-it made me want to tear myself apart all over again.

“But I think I’m more terrified of not giving him another chance.”

Hope flared in my chest, painful and desperate. She was considering it. Actually considering giving me another chance. Then Aria’s voice: “You need a therapist, someone trained in trauma and relationship repair.”

Therapy. The word echoed in my drug-fogged mind.

I’d never considered therapy. Alphas didn’t do therapy. We were supposed to be strong, unbreakable, able to handle anything through sheer force of will.

But that thinking-that toxic, prideful thinking-was part of what got me here. Part of what made me think I could have an affair without consequences, could use my mate without it destroying me too.

“Mate bond trauma is a specialty?”

I hadn’t known that either. Hadn’t realized that what I’d done to Emma was serious enough to require professional intervention. I’d thought-what? That time would heal it? That love would be enough?

I was such an idiot.

“Send me Dr. Chen’s contact info. For both of us.”

Both of us. Emma wanted me to go to therapy with her.

The realization made my chest tight with emotions I couldn’t name. She wasn’t just thinking about herself, about her own healing. She was thinking about us. About fixing what I’d broken.

If it could be fixed.

I wanted to open my eyes then, wanted to tell her I’d do it. Would do therapy, would do whatever it took. But my body was too heavy, the medication pulling me back under despite my desire to stay conscious.

“Tomorrow we’d talk about therapy. About healing. About what came next.”

Tomorrow. I could wait until tomorrow.

I let myself drift, Emma’s hand still in mine, her presence beside me the only thing keeping the darkness at bay.

When I woke again, real waking this time, sunlight was streaming through the hospital window. My head felt clearer, the medication wearing off enough for coherent thought.

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Chapter as

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Emtua was asleep in the chair beside my bed, her hand still holding fráve. She looked exhausted-dark circles under her eyes, her clothes still stained with my blood, her hair a tangled mesa

She’d stayed all night. Again

How many nights had she spent in uncomfortable hospital chairs because of me? First during my coma, then during my recovery, now this.

I should tell her to go home. To get real rest in a real bed. To take care of herself instead of me.

But I was too selfish. Too grateful for her presence. Too terrified that if she left, she might not come back.

Her eyes opened slowly, immediately finding mine. “You’re awake. How do you feel?”

“Like I’m going to live, unfortunately for you.” I tried for humor but it fell flat.

“Don’t joke about that.” Her voice was sharp. “You almost died yesterday, Jererfiy, Again. Do you have any idea what that’s like? Watching you collapse? Having your blood all over my hands?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-

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“Stop apologizing and start listening.” She sat up straighter, her expression fierce. “We need to talk. Really talk. About everything.”

My stomach dropped. This was it. The moment where she told me she couldn’t do this, couldn’t keep watching me self-destruct, couldn’t give me another chance.

“Okay,” I said, bracing myself. “I’m listening.”

“I heard you,” she said quietly. “Last night. When Aria and I were talking. You were awake, weren’t you?”

Caught. I nodded slowly. “Some of it. The medication made everything fuzzy, but I heard enough.”

“Then you heard me say I need therapy. That we both need therapy.”

“I did.”

“And?” She was watching me carefully. “What do you think about that?”

What did I think? That it terrified me. That admitting I needed help felt like admitting weakness. That the idea of sitting in some therapist’s office talking about my feelings made my skin crawl.

But also that Emma was right. That we couldn’t fix this alone. That love wasn’t enough without the tools to build something healthy from the wreckage.

“I think you’re right,” I said finally. “I think we’re both carrying trauma that we can’t process on our own. And if there’s even a chance that therapy could help us-help you trust me again-then I’ll do it. Whatever it takes.”

Emma’s eyes glistened with tears. “You mean that?”

“Emma, I testified yesterday knowing it might kill me because I needed you to see that I was done hiding from the truth. Don protecting myself at your expense.” I squeezed her hand gently. “If you think therapy will help, then I’ll go. I’ll talk to Dr. Chen or whoever you want. I’ll do the work.”

“It’s going to be hard,” she warned. “Therapy isn’t just showing up and talking. It’s confronting uncomfortable truths. Processing painful emotions. Learning new ways of thinking and behaving.”

“I know. Or I’m starting to understand, anyway.” I paused. “I heard Aria say I have guilt and self-destructive behavior to work through. She’s right. Yesterday proved that. I pushed myself to testify knowing I wasn’t healed enough because some part of me thought I deserved the pain.”

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