More surprise. “You were going to mate? I mean, get married?”

Addie nodded, the pain of those memories having lessened a long way in the last few days. “Yes, because I thought it was what I needed to do. But I see now that it would have been a mistake of colossal proportions.”

Jaycee’s gaze turned awestruck. “The Goddess was keeping you for Kendrick.” She groaned and buried her face in her knees. “I was trying to thwart the will of the Goddess. Oh, I am so stupid, stupid.”

She banged her forehead with each stupid. Addie, alarmed, sat down on the bed.

“What are you talking about? My engagement was a long time ago. It has nothing to do with this.”

Jaycee lifted her head, eyes glittering with tears. “That’s what you think. You were abandoned by this man because you weren’t meant for him—you were meant for Kendrick. The Goddess knows what she’s doing.”

Addie started to laugh. “No, he broke it off because he was an asshole. I knew he was—I just tried to tell myself he was better than nothing. Guess what? He wasn’t. It has nothing to do with Kendrick, or your Goddess, or you. Don’t worry.”

She patted Jaycee’s knee, something she wouldn’t have dreamed of doing when she’d first met the woman. Addie now felt a sort of protectiveness toward her—Jaycee had showed her vulnerable side and Addie had new sympathy for her.

Jaycee’s gaze rested on Addie, misery in her eyes. “You have it. The mark of the leader’s mate. You have the compassion, the ability to surrender yourself to it. I never did. I don’t know why I thought . . .”

Jaycee bowed her head again and began to shake with sobs.

“Oh, honey.” Addie moved closer and daringly stroked Jaycee’s back. “I’m so sorry.”

Jaycee continued to cry, rocking a little, but she didn’t shake off Addie’s hand. When she raised her head, her face wet and nose running, Addie grabbed a box of tissues from the nightstand and shoved it into her hands.

“See?” Jaycee plucked out five tissues and mopped her face. “You know how to take care of people.”

“I was a waitress for a long time,” Addie said. “I guess I’m used to it.”

Jaycee gave a watery laugh. “It’s more than that, and you know it. I should have seen . . .”

“That’s enough of that,” Addie said briskly. When strong people fell apart, in Addie’s experience, they could really go to pieces. “Kendrick needs you to help him, not blubber in the bedroom. Dimitri . . . he needs you too.”

Jaycee groaned and clapped more tissues to her face. “Dimitri. Oh, Goddess. I was hoping last night was delirium.”

“Why?” Addie set the tissue box down again. “Dimitri’s hot. I love red-haired guys.”

Jaycee wiped her nose with the tissues. “I’ve known Dimitri forever. We’re trackers. We fight together, we train, we spar . . . He’s always known how I felt about Kendrick.”

“And he’s hot,” Addie said. “I think that’s important to point out more than once. You could have pushed him away last night. You didn’t.”

“Crap on a crutch,” Jaycee whispered. She looked at Addie in so much dismay that Addie laughed.

“You clean yourself up and come out and join everyone,” Addie said, getting to her feet. “They need you. And don’t be afraid of what happened with Dimitri. Own it.”

Jaycee slanted her an ironic look. “I could say the same for you. You have a rabbit-in-the-headlights look, and I don’t blame you. Kendrick is a powerful man. But some advice—Kendrick isn’t good with close relationships. He shuts people out, you might have noticed.”