More than an Otter (Shifty Book 5)

by Sara Summers

  More than an Otter

  By Sara Summers

  To anyone who has ever been hurt by someone they love

  Chapter 1

  I didn’t want to meet my soulmate. I didn’t want to see his face or talk to him or admit that for some ridiculous reason I was supposed to be his.

  Okay, I used to want to meet him. I wanted that more than just about anything else. But that was before I found out that he had known where I was for two years and decided not to come find me.

  What kind of person would hide from the person who was literally the other half of their soul? The horrible kind, if you’d asked me.

  “What do you mean, he’s coming to find me?” I demanded. Ava had called to let me know that my soulmate was on his way.

  “That’s exactly what I mean. He’s coming to find you, Sam says he’ll probably get there tomorrow morning.”

  “I have to go.” I hung up on her.

  I started racing around my parents’ house. Throwing clothes into a duffle bag, grabbing shampoo and towels and makeup and shoes…. I had to get out of there.

  “Alright, Kennedy, just stop and think.” I ordered myself.

  I sat down on the edge of my bed and closed my eyes. Because I lived close to the ocean, my mate could easily swim to me. Otter shifters are fast swimmers, so if he decided to swim through the night, he could get there at what… maybe two or three AM?

  I picked up my phone to check the time.

  11:30 PM.

  “Eff.” I muttered, taking a big, deep breath.

  If Ava had waited a few hours before calling me, which I was pretty sure she would’ve done, he could be getting to my house at any minute.

  And if I was going to avoid him, I needed to get the heck out of there.

  “Think, think, think.” I started pacing the room. “Where can I go? Somewhere hot? That would be good; what otter likes the heat? Umm… I don’t have much money, but I should have enough to get there and talk someone into letting me room with them until next semester starts again. Right, that’s a plan.” I nodded.

  I stood up and yanked my duffle bag over my shoulder, grabbing the extra garbage bag I had filled with blankets and towels and pillows and whatever else I thought I might need.

  “This is going to have to do.” I muttered, racing down the stairs as if my life depended on it.

  And, well, it did.

  I had no intentions of marrying a man who didn’t want to be with me, regardless of whether he was “the other half of my soul”.

  I didn’t need any man to complete me. I was a strong, independent woman, and there was no way on earth that I would let any person—man, woman, or shifter—tell me that I wasn’t good enough on my own.

  Eff my “half of a soul”; I was plenty complete.

  I threw my bags in the back seat, racing around like a cockroach without a head. Or maybe a cockroach about to lose its head, because seriously, if I met my mate I just knew I would become a headless cockroach.

  Jumping into the driver’s seat, I turned the key and prayed that my rusty old car would work.

  “Please, please, please.” I begged Bessie. “Just work one more time.” I plead.

  I didn’t know what was going on under her hood, but it looked like my car was smoking.

  “Come on!” I looked in my rearview mirror at the garage door that was opening behind me, and my eye caught on the top of the painted-masterpiece I was only half-finished with. This man, the one who didn’t want me, he could ruin everything I had dreamed of.

  I had to get out of there.

  “Go, go, go!” I felt tears threatening to make an appearance. The cotie on my collarbone—his mark—started tingling, and I knew I was about to be very, very burnt toast.

  Turning the key one last time, I sent up a prayer to the Creator that I could just get away from the soulmate who hadn’t effing come after me in two effing years.

  I didn’t phrase it exactly like that, but the feelings were the same.

  Finally, the car jumped to life.

  “Thank you!” I yelled up at the sky, shoving my car into reverse and shooting backward faster than I had ever taken off out of any parking lot, garage, or driveway. This was my last chance at freedom.

  My tires screamed and squealed louder than any human being I had ever met, but I didn’t dare slow down. I rocketed into the road, my foot still on the gas.

  I was fine, safe, and on my way to freedom.

  That is, until I heard a loud “THUMP” and my car stopped moving.

  I screamed bloody-murder—For all I knew, I had literally just murdered someone—and slammed my foot on the brakes, launching myself out of Bessie and running around the back of my car.

  “Are you okay?!” I shrieked, dropping to my hands and knees next to the person I had just near-killed.

  The mark on my collarbone tingled worse and worse, the closer I got to him.

  At least, I assumed it was a him.

  It dang well better be a him, or someone was going to die.

  The thought of death brings me back to the man on the ground, the one I had almost just killed.

  My soulmate.

  I had literally almost killed my soulmate. Not in a threatening way or a flirty “I’m gonna kill you, babe!” way. None of that.

  Like, I had hit him with my effing car.

  “Please don’t let him die.” I begged, closing my eyes as I put my hands on the man’s shoulders.

  I was expecting the pain that came with the first time we touched; our coties had to change, of course. But the man was unconscious, and even though he was the worst soulmate on the planet (come on, the guy hadn’t even bothered to find me before assuming I wasn’t good enough for him), I still couldn’t let another living person die.

  Especially not after hitting him with Bessie.

  “Hey, wake up.” I shook his shoulders when my vision cleared. “Wake up.” I repeated, hoping and praying he would get up.

  He didn’t.

  So that’s the story of how I almost killed my soulmate by smashing him with a car and ended up dragging a semi-large and very heavy man (who I had been trying to run from, I might add) into my parents’ house.

  The end.

  Just kidding. That was really only the beginning of much, much more.

  So go on. Keep reading if you want to learn how the worst soulmate on the planet became the best soulmate in the universe.

  My name is Kennedy, I’m an otter shifter, and this is my story.

  Chapter 2

  I paced the kitchen, folding and unfolding my arms as I went over the details of all that had just gone down.

  First, I’d tried to escape.

  Second, I’d hit my soulmate.

  Third, he was (still unconscious) on the floor of my parents’ house.

  Their very empty house, I might add, considering that they were on vacation in the Bahamas for the next three weeks.

  So… options.

  The first and probably easiest option would be to get back to my plan. I could climb back inside Bessie and hit the road, getting out of town before my mate even had the chance to wake up. I’d be free and clear… as long as he didn’t follow me again, which he would probably do.

  If he didn’t though, like I said, free and clear.

  But then again, he might not wake up in the near future. If he didn’t, that would be bad.

  With that in mind, option one was off the table. I couldn’t leave an unconscious man alone in an empty house to possibly die, sucky soulmate or not.

  So, option two.

  I could lock myself in my room with enough food and water to last a week or so, trusting that he would leave before I ran
out. That idea was slightly appealing, but, well, immature. I wasn’t afraid of my soulmate, I just didn’t want to be with him.

  With option two off the table, I was down to my last idea.

  Option three.

  I’d have to stay until my mate woke up, then calmly discuss what our future would hold—a future we wouldn’t share, of course—get him to sign a paper saying he didn’t care if I married some other, more romantic human, and voila.

  That was it. Easy as pie.

  At least, that’s how I thought it would go.

  But a few minutes later, the man on the floor groaned. He moved around a little, then slowly peeked open his eyes.

  “What happened?” he moaned, though I was sure he couldn’t see me. Then again, he didn’t have to see me to know that I was there. He was my soulmate, so his brain was like one big Kennedy-finder.

  “You were hit by a car.” I sat down on one of the barstools, looking down at the attractive man on the floor.

  Eff, he was attractive. His chocolatey, tousled-looking hair, not too short but not too long…

  Mmm.

  Eff.

  I shook my head and focused on the plan. Talk to him, get contract signed, fall in love elsewhere. That was all I had to do.

  “Who hit me?” he winced as he tried to open his eyes, reaching a hand up to shield himself from the bright lights overhead.

  I felt bad for blinding the man I’d almost killed, but I couldn’t say anything. The plan would work as long as I stuck to it and didn’t let myself get attached.

  Talk to him, get contract signed, fall in real love with someone romantic. I had to remind myself again and again: this man was my soulmate, but I would not fall in love with him.

  “I did.” I scratched the back of my head, my hair itchy from not being washed in days. There had been bigger things on my mind (like said sucky soulmate and the masterpiece in the back of my car), I hadn’t had time for hair-upkeep.

  “Do you hate me already?” my soulmate wondered. His voice was dry and maybe a little sarcastic.

  I folded my arms.

  “You don’t want me, why should it matter to you what I think?” I defended myself with the only thing I knew about him.

  “Who told you I don’t want you?” he moved his hand so he could look at me.

  Eff, his eyes were blue. I had a thing for blue eyes.

  “Your best friend.” I hit him with all the frustration I had. Did he realize how much it sucked to know that the person made for you didn’t want you? No, no he couldn’t have, because he didn’t even bother to effing get to know me or even talk to me once before deciding I wasn’t good enough.

  Was there anything less romantic in the entire world than having a soulmate who wanted nothing to do with you? He was my soulmate, for crying out loud! He was supposed to sweep me off my feet and shower me with love and poems and affection!

  “Eff.” He closed his eyes.

  Well, at least we were on the same page about one thing. That was the only word that could even half-fit the situation.

  “I think it’d be best if you went home now.” I stood up. “Sorry for hitting you with my car, and I guess I’m sorry for having the same mate mark as you. I’ll help you to the door.” I offered him a hand, but he didn’t take it.

  “We need to talk about this before I leave.” He told me, slowly sitting up. The movement made him wince, and his words made me want to do the same. So he wanted to talk to me, but he still planned on leaving?

  That was great. Just plain fantastic.

  Maybe he did suck as bad as I’d been thinking he would.

  “No thanks.” I held my hand out even lower, trying to insist that he take it and get out of my house. “Come on, you’re leaving.”

  “Not until I explain myself.” He ignored my hand yet again.

  I could feel myself starting to get worked up. The anxiety that I could usually keep under control was flaring up again, the way it had been ever since Sam told me about my soulmate.

  The man on the floor, he had no idea what he had done to me. I had always thought human relationships were a million times more romantic than shifter relationships, and after hearing that, I was even more certain. Shifters were doing things the wrong way. They had to be; how else would you explain the fact that “half of my soul” didn’t even want to come find me?

  If my mate could’ve just kept to himself after sending his best friend to give me the effing worst news of my life, that would’ve been one thing. But now he wanted to talk? The man who had known where I was for two years but hadn’t wanted to find me?

  He’d joined the military to get away from me, for crying out loud, and he hadn’t even met me yet!

  I’d spent the past week trying to get over him, a guy I’d never even met, and now this? No, eff no. I’d been hurt enough.

  He was going to sign the effing paper that said we were going our separate ways, and then he was going to leave me alone for the rest of my freaking life.

  “I don’t want an explanation.” I folded my arms. “I want you to get out of my house.”

  “Yeah, well I’m not going to until I explain myself.” He stood up, though it looked a little painful.

  There it was again. He wanted to talk but didn’t plan on staying. He was going to leave me again, as soon as he explained whatever stupid excuses he had as to why he hadn’t come after me two years earlier.

  “I don’t owe you anything, soulmate or not. Get out of my house.”

  He didn’t respond. Instead, he strolled over to the couch like he didn’t have a care in the world.

  I wanted to strangle him more than I had ever wanted to strangle anyone else in my entire life, including the older brothers who had been messing with me since I was born.

  Instead of strangling him, I grabbed my keys off the counter.

  “I’m going to move my car back into the driveway,” I pointed my keys at him, and he stared at me with an expressionless face. “and if you’re not gone by the time I get back, I will call the police.”

  I hurried outside before he could reply.

  Yanking the driver’s side door open, I stuck the key in the ignition and turned it. The engine made a noise, but the car didn’t start. For the next ten minutes, I tried again and again and again.

  Bessie refused to start.

  I slammed my fist against the steering wheel and then dropped my head into my hands.

  What was I doing? I was threatening my soulmate after almost killing him, I was trying to move somewhere I had never been before to get away from him, the man who was supposed to show up and take me dancing and fall desperately in love with me.

  Instead of being desperately love, I was trying desperately to force Bessie to work, and I… I was falling apart.

  I had always wanted the kind of romance that would sweep me off my feet. I wanted someone to hold my hand and write me poems and dance with me when there was no music, but this is what I got? A soulmate who would rather be alone for the rest of his life than be with me?

  I could feel my hopes and dreams falling apart, one by one. A life without my soulmate, a life without love… I’d rather get eaten by a bear than deal with that.

  Like I’d told Ava the day before (or was it earlier that day? I don’t know, with all the drama it was all mashed together), I couldn’t live a life without love.

  So I braced myself for the awful situation that I knew was coming, then took a deep breath, and went back inside.

  I would listen to my soulmate’s story, then he would sign my contract, and I would spend the rest of my life finding someone who would love me the way I wanted to be loved.

  Because without love, what else was there? Love was the driving force behind art, passion, romance, and joy. If I didn’t have love, what did I have?

  Chapter 3

  I put my keys on the hook by the garage door and slowly walked into the living room, where I’d left my soulmate. Sam had told me his name, but I couldn’t remember
it. I didn’t want to remember it.

  He was in the same place as before, sitting on the couch, but now he was leaning back with his eyes closed.

  When I sat down across from him, he opened his eyes.

  I folded my arms and leaned back.

  “Are you ready to talk?” he asked.

  “If that’s what it takes to get you to leave.”

  My soulmate leaned toward me, clasping his fingers together and resting his forearms on his legs. He looked relaxed—too relaxed. Way too relaxed. He was sitting there, about to tell me all the reasons he didn’t want me, but he looked like he didn’t have a worry in the world.

  That shouldn’t have hurt me. I should’ve known it would be that way, he would be that way. Even knowing that’s how it would be, it still hurt to see how much he didn’t care.

  “First off, my name is Grant.” He offered.

  “Okay.” I waited for him to continue.

  “Alright… look, I don’t know how Sam explained it to you, but I never told him or anyone else that I didn’t want you. I told him that I wasn’t ready to find you yet, which was completely true.”

  “And when would you have been ready?” I asked. “Next year? Two years? Three, maybe?”

  “I don’t know.” Grant admitted. “But I wasn’t going to go after my one chance at love before I felt confident that she would love me back.”

  “You can’t force me to love you, now or in two years.” I frowned at the man. Grant was his name, though I didn’t want to accept that. “Whether you were ready or not, it would be up to me to choose if I loved you or not.” I frowned at him, the ex-man-of-my-dreams.

  “You’re the other half of my soul, how could I risk you not choosing to love me?” Grant asked.

  “Love is always a risk, one that everyone has to take if they don’t want to be alone. You don’t want me, so I’m not choosing to risk it on you. Now, I need you to sign a paper saying that we’re parting ways.” I stood up.

  “I’m not signing anything until you give me a chance.” Grant stood up too. “I might not be ready yet, but I’m not going to just give you up.”

  “I’m not giving you a chance, so get out of here.” I pointed to the door. “I really don’t care if you think you’re ready or not.”