Chapter Eleven #2
“Those eggs don’t need a guard,” Jalen said, pushing to his feet. “They need an intervention.”
Warm grass pressed through the thin weave of the blanket as he stood. Sun heated the back of his neck. He brushed his palms on his shorts for no reason, like he could wipe off nerves.
Chase met him halfway—just cedar and clean sweat and a breath of spice from the grill clinging to his mate’s skin. Strong arms wrapped around Jalen like that was the most natural thing a body could do.
Not crushing, not possessive. Just close. He fit there in a way that made him think of the word “home” and want to roll his eyes at himself for being that guy.
“Hey, gorgeous,” Chase murmured against his hairline. Breath warm, voice low enough that it soaked right into Jalen’s skin. “You look like sunlight. Proud of you.”
Everything in Jalen went soft and obnoxiously content. He huffed against Chase’s chest anyway, because being sappy in public felt illegal. “You’re going to ruin my street cred.”
“Tragic.” Chase kissed his temple. “I’ll make it up to you later.”
For a beat, Jalen let himself soak in the solid weight of arms around him, the steady drags of breath against his ear, the way he fit under his mate’s chin without trying.
A cheer went up near the cornhole boards.
Wade fist?bumped Liam over a perfect throw, Bayne heckled them with a mouthful of chips, and Quinn pretended not to care whether his ribs disappeared off the platter in thirty seconds.
Vaughn was seated under an oak tree, a paper plate balanced on his knees, eating in a way that said he wanted to be left alone.
Counting without meaning to, Jalen landed on fourteen wolves moving around each other like a machine that knew its parts. Apparently, family looked suspiciously like lawn chairs and paper plates and goofy smiles.
“Stay,” Chase murmured into his hair when Jalen shifted like maybe he’d step back. “I like you here.”
“Let me think about it,” Jalen said, but he stayed, cheek tucked against muscle warmed by the sun.
His mouth went dry for no good reason. Or maybe a very good one.
He’d rehearsed this in the shower, in bed at three a.m., at the sink while brushing his teeth.
All those practice runs, and now the words tried to boomerang back down his throat.
A deep breath didn’t help. His heart thudded. He felt Chase’s answering beat like a quiet knock under his own breastbone. Just three little words everyone else threw around in their everyday lives.
“I have something…” he started then winced. “That sounds like I’m about to hand you a coupon book.”
Chase’s smile eased, small and crooked. “Hit me with your best deal.”
“Okay.” Jalen exhaled and pressed closer, his voice dropping just for his mate. “I love you.”
Wind lifted the hair at Jalen’s temple like it wanted to be dramatic on his behalf. He didn’t let it. He waited, pulse punching along at a reckless speed.
Chase’s face softened in a way that should’ve been illegal. No grand shock, no wide-eyed moment. Just warmth. Thumb sliding along Jalen’s jaw with that careful touch he used when he was holding something he cherished.
“Yeah,” he said quietly, like they were swapping a secret. “I love you too.”
Lips met his, slow and warm, a kiss that tasted like char from the grill. No urgency. Just confirmation and a private knowledge that they’d both said it out loud. He chased it for one more second before Preston whooped something about PDA and Zeppelin threatened to spray them with the hose.
Jalen stepped back just enough to breathe, fingers still hooked in the belt loop of Chase’s shorts like the universe would try to steal him. “If anyone asks, the sun made me do it.”
“I’ll blame UV exposure,” Chase agreed, grinning like a man who’d gotten away with something.
Jalen huffed out a laugh that shook more than he wanted it to. “Cool. Now I want one of those burgers before Zeppelin burns them out of spite.”
“Good plan.” Chase kissed him once, soft and ridiculously pure for a guy who’d said far filthier things in bed that morning. The kind of kiss that made Jalen feel seen instead of devoured. “Come on. You’re getting the first one.”
“Bold move, stealing from Zeppelin’s grill,” Jalen said, letting Chase’s arm stay slung around his shoulders as they headed back toward the chaos. “If I die, bury me with Preston’s deviled eggs as a warning to others.”
“Noted,” Chase said, fingertips idly tracing Jalen’s shoulder as if they had all the time in the world to memorize each other. “But you’re not dying today. You’re eating, and then you’re letting me kiss you again under that ugly maple Wade refuses to trim.”
“Rude. That maple is doing its best.”
They reached the tables to a chorus of half-insults and offers. A plate appeared in Jalen’s hands. Someone shoved a bowl of slaw at him. Preston called across the grass that he’d saved a spot on the blanket, which was a lie because he’d spread out like a cat and claimed every inch.
Voices overlapped, bright and messy. Sauce dripped down Jalen’s wrist. He licked it off and pretended that hadn’t been weirdly intimate with sixteen witnesses. Chase leaned in and bit the corner of Jalen’s burger, eyes laughing when Jalen squawked and shoved him halfheartedly.
Sun on his skin. Smoke in his lungs. Laughter snagging on things inside him that used to be jagged edges. He didn’t have to name any of it out loud. He just had to stand in it and eat his burger like a functional person.
Quinn passed him a cold soda with a brotherly smile. Condensation slid over Jalen’s palm and dripped onto his knee. Chase looked as if he wanted to lap it up. If his mate went for it, Jalen would let him.
“Hey,” Preston yelled from the blanket. “Bring me a cookie unless you hate me.”
Laughter spiked and receded, conversations flowed, and Jalen’s chest did a weird, warm ache that felt suspiciously like relief.
He glanced around at the wolves who’d made space for him without requiring a password, who yelled across the yard for him to try the corn, who argued over playlists like it mattered.
Maybe it did.
Chase’s knuckles brushed Jalen’s shoulder as he sat, a quiet touch that said “still here” without making a scene. Jalen leaned into it, just slightly, and let the afternoon settle over him like something he could finally live inside.
Not perfect.
Not fixed.
Just…good.
He could handle good.
THE END
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