Chapter Fifteen
Jax
Self-Doubts
When I awaken the next morning, I immediately go check on Shawn just to find the guest room door open and he’s not there.
He’s not anywhere.
His car’s gone, and he hasn’t left me a note.
Inside me, my Alpha rears up, wanting to take control of this situation, and I mentally smack it on the snout with a rolled-up newspaper.
I’ve unintentionally caused my mate enough pain because I was too wrapped up inside my own head.
Removing my phone from the charger, I check for texts from him, and of course I don’t.
My suspicion is he headed out for a long run because that’s what he does when he’s upset or needs to burn off energy. Also, the travel mug he prefers is gone, and there’s half a carafe of still-warm coffee.
And if the past is any indicator, I need to let him do this. He’ll come to me in his own time. Times like these, he absolutely does not want me chasing him down and forcing him to talk.
Been there, done that, touched that stove. I’m not perfect, but I try to avoid making the same stupid mistakes twice.
We haven’t hit many bumps in the road in our relationship. This is the worst by far, and I hate that he thinks I’ve been lying to him about wanting pups.
I hate that I made him cry.
Not liking myself very much right now.
As stupid as this sounds, I tend to forget he’s older than me, and I genuinely hadn’t considered that issue within the greater equation.
Neither of us looks a fraction of our ages, thanks to shifter genetics.
Shifters, and humans born of them, or mated to them—especially Alpha mates—don’t age as rapidly as normal humans.
Hell, Dad and Pops look like they could be my older brothers instead of my parents.
I pour myself a mug of coffee and grab my shower because the only thing I can do right now is go to work. The pack depends on me, and with the new pup potentially joining us, I need to put out feelers to other packs and see what kind of gossip I can catch up on.
Rudolph Sterling is an asshole. A potentially dangerous asshole.
Potentially dangerous to us, I mean. He’s already been dangerous to others.
I nuke leftovers for breakfast and then head to the office. Outsiders think it’s the corporate headquarters for a holding company that’s had more names over the past hundred years than I can recall off the top of my head.
What we do is run the business of the pack.
We keep track of paying the bills and property taxes, and all of that for pack-owned property.
Maybe fifteen percent of our pack members are fully dependent upon the pack for their housing, food, and other expenses—mostly elderly or disabled members.
They don’t have to worry about making ends meet.
Some of them can work part-time doing things like sitting at Davis’ counter to answer phones and greet customers, or babysitting for working parents, or even driving kids between home and school and after-school events.
We operate a pack school for kids who either can’t or don’t want to attend public school, and we have a well-equipped medical clinic that also handles urgent care and can even perform emergency surgeries. It means fewer interactions with human doctors and medical staff.
Most of our members who live within the confines of the pack compound lease their property from the pack—it’s theirs, but it’s in the pack’s name.
They have a lease agreement, and we use a sliding scale depending on what they can afford.
Any improvements they make, if they ever move, we reimburse them so they don’t lose equity.
We pay the property taxes and insurance.
We also co-sign loans—or outright loan funds—for property purchases to pack members who live nearby but outside the compound.
We only ask for the right of first refusal if they ever sell, and the right to deny a sale to clueless humans if there’s a pack member who wants to purchase it at the initial asking price.
Our compound is disguised as a very rural gated community with full-time security at the gates.
Doesn’t raise red flags, and it prevents clueless humans from accidentally stumbling over us.
As we purchase more land and annex new properties, we expand the boundaries and increase our security as a result.
Susan, my administrative assistant, is already in the office when I arrive. I’m disappointed but not surprised that Shawn’s car isn’t there.
I don’t linger in the lobby and know from the scent of coffee that Susan’s in the small kitchen and brewing the first pot of the morning. “Morning, Susan,” I call on my way through to my office.
“Morning, Jax!” she cheerfully replies.
She’s a non-shifter, but her parents are horse shifters.
Her mom and dad married in secret, against the wishes of both sets of parents, and eventually they found their way to my father’s front door via friends of his in another found-family pack.
She was born into the pack, started working for Pops and Dad just out of high school, and has worked here ever since.
She’s married to a gamma wolf shifter who works for Todd.
Which reminds me…
I have to let Todd know Shawn’s not coming by. Even if Shawn and I kiss and make up this evening, I want to spend that time with Shawn and focus on him, not send him out running errands.
How did Pops make all this shit look so easy?
I settle at my desk and power up my computer so I can start my day. As I wait for it to boot up, I stare at my personal phone and finally compose a text to Shawn, making several revisions over the next ten minutes until it feels right.
I love you, and I’m sorry. I want to talk about this, okay?
Please let me know you’re safe. If you want to take today off, please do.
I’ll tell Todd we’re letting the new guy settle in for a few days before we start introductions.
Let’s sit down tonight and talk, please? I’ll make dinner and we can snuggle.
Looking it over, I finally send it, then text Todd to let him know the change in plans. That done, I set my phone aside so I can get to work. Pops warned me when Shawn and I mated that I need to know when to admit I’m wrong and never hesitate to say it first.
For a variety of reasons, the first being that it’s the right thing to do. The second being that Shawn is older than me, and while I’m an Alpha and he’s an omega, it’s still a complex dynamic.
And he’s right.
In this case, Shawn has done absolutely nothing wrong—it’s all on me.
It’s due to my fear.
Honestly? I do want pups. But most days I barely feel like I have a handle on being an adult. I’m always worried I’ll fuck things up for the pack.
Add a pup to the equation and that ups the difficulty—and my fear—exponentially.
Somehow, I need to explain that to Shawn so he understands why I’ve dragged my paws.
Hopefully, he understands, forgives me, and we can move forward together. Because he’s the love of my life and I’d rather cut limbs off than hurt or lose him.
He’s my everything.
I definitely need to do a better job showing him that.