Chapter 6 #2
Something inside me cracked open. It wasn’t dramatic, not some cinematic flood, but only a tiny seam splitting, enough to let a thread of warmth slip inside.
It startled me how much I felt it. How much I needed it.
“Good,” I murmured.
Jaime didn’t smile, but his eyes softened, a shift so subtle most people would have missed it. But not me and not when it came to him.
The hum of the bar wrapped around us like a loose blanket. Soft music, muted conversations, plates clinking. The kind of background noise that made moments feel strangely private.
I took a long drink, letting the beer settle warm in my chest.
“Feels weird, you know,” I said after a moment. “Us sitting here. Not snapping at each other, not glaring. Almost like we’re…” Friends? Allies? Something else entirely? “...getting somewhere.”
Jaime arched a brow. “Are you upset about that?”
“No,” I laughed, shoulders loosening. “Just surprised. In a good way.”
He nodded, lifting his glass for another quiet sip. His scent pulled at me again. It made my wolf lean forward, curious, wanting to press closer. I forced myself to stay anchored to my seat. For now.
We drifted into companionable silence, the kind that didn’t feel forced. Just easy and I didn’t get that often. I wasn’t used to it. Eventually, I exhaled.
“You know, you’re not wrong about me being new to all this. Pack stuff. Working with others. Not screwing it up,” I said.
Jaime didn’t glance over, but I felt his attention sharpen. “You mentioned that you didn’t have a pack growing up,” he said.
“Yeah.” I rubbed my thumb along the condensation on my glass. “Was mostly just my parents and brothers. There used to be a pack there, my parents’ pack, but even after the pack disbanded, they stayed.”
I shrugged and continued, “My brothers and me grew up basically feral. Not in the cool, wild-wolf way. More like learning everything the hard way.”
Jaime turned slightly, elbow resting on the bar. His posture was relaxed, but there was an undercurrent to it. He was focused, listening, engaged. “And then your family moved here?”
“At Devon’s suggestion,” I said quietly. “But the move wasn’t easy on me and my brothers. Packs always seemed like these tight-knit machines, and my brothers and I were… not just used to that I guess.”
Jaime didn’t interrupt. He just listened, calm and attentive.
“I guess that’s why I want to do right by Cooper,” I said. “By you. By this mission. I want to prove… I don’t know… that I can belong somewhere. That I’m not just some stray mutt taking up oxygen.”
A soft breath escaped Jaime, almost a sound, almost not. His eyes flicked over my face before settling on his drink again.
“It isn’t easy,” he said. “Trying to belong.”
His tone held something raw. Carefully folded, but still visible if you knew how to look.
My wolf perked up. “You say that like you know.”
“Maybe I do.”
He didn’t elaborate. But something in him shifted. Not enough to expose the whole wound, just enough to show the scar.
I didn’t push. Not yet. I just watched him, waiting.
After a few seconds, he said quietly, “I used to be part of a pack. A big one, structured and efficient. Too efficient.” He paused, lips pressing together. “I had a lot of responsibilities.”
I didn’t interrupt, merely listened.
“I was good at what I did,” he continued. “Reading shifter behavior. Predicting how situations might unfold. I could deescalate fights, manage crises. Leadership depended on me.” He tapped the side of his glass again, softer this time. “Too much.”
“What happened?”
He hesitated, weighing his words. “Burnout.” The single word carried a quiet gravity. “And a mistake. One I paid for even though it wasn’t mine alone.”
I caught the faint tension along his jaw. The way his shoulders tightened for a moment before he rolled them loose again. Jaime didn’t show vulnerability easily. This small, guarded confession was a gift.
“So you left?” I asked.
“I realized I wasn’t valued for who I was,” he said.
I swallowed, throat tight. “That sounds rough.”
“It was necessary.”
We sat in the low hum of shared silence. For the first time, I understood the shape of the walls around him. Not just caution, but experience and hurt. Exhaustion carved into bone.
I turned slightly to face him. “For what it’s worth, I don’t just like you for what you can do.”
His eyes flicked to mine.
“I want to know who you are,” I said.
The air between us shifted again. Warmer and denser. Something crackling gently beneath our words. My wolf pressed against my ribs, hopeful, tail raised.
Jaime didn’t smile, but the edges of his expression eased. “You’re different from what I expected.”
“Is that a polite way of saying I annoy you less now?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said, completely deadpan.
I barked a laugh, drawing a couple glances from nearby tables. “Great. I’ll take it. Tomorrow maybe you’ll even tolerate me.”
“Don’t push your luck.”
“I’ll try not to, darling,” I said, blowing him a kiss.
He didn’t snarl or glare at the nickname this time, he merely gave a tiny exhale through his nose. Jaime looked almost amused.
We kept talking and the space between us changed shape as the minutes slipped by.
We talked about the handlers we’d seen at the show, about the dogs who surprised us, about Cooper’s knack for throwing unexpected assignments at people.
“We really were lucky there were no incidents today,” Jaime said.
“Maybe whoever tried messing with things yesterday got spooked,” I said. “Or realized everyone’s on high alert.”
“Maybe,” Jaime murmured. His eyes were thoughtful. “Or they’re waiting.”
The soft dread curling through his voice made something inside me flare protective. I wanted to shield him from it. Ridiculous, probably.
He was more experienced than me. Stronger in ways that weren’t about muscle. But the instinct was there, sharp and sure.
We finished eating and paid, the night air hit us cool and fresh as we stepped outside. Jaime inhaled deeply, tilting his head back a little. He looked younger for a moment. Lighter.
“Feels good,” he said.
“Better than being stuck in the ballroom, right?” I asked.
He huffed a laugh. “Much.”
We walked back to the hotel without rushing. Streetlights cast long amber stripes across the sidewalk. Our steps synched without trying.
At one point our arms brushed, just a whisper of contact, and heat shot through me like a spark dropped into dry tinder. Neither of us said anything.
Back in the hotel room, Pampi greeted us with a tiny yap and a wag that involved her whole body. Jaime knelt immediately, giving her water, checking her paws, smoothing her fur the way she liked.
It was domestic and intimate and unfairly attractive.
I leaned against the wall, watching him. His gentleness did something to me. Something confusing and warm and huge.
After tending to Pampi, Jaime stood. “I’m going to shower.”
“Yeah. Me too,” I said. “Just, uh… after you.”
Smooth, Chris. Real smooth.
He didn’t comment, just grabbed a change of clothes and disappeared into the bathroom. The shower started. I tried not to imagine him in there. I failed spectacularly.
He emerged a while later, damp hair curling slightly at the ends, wearing a soft T-shirt and loose joggers that did terrible, wonderful things to my self-control.
“My turn,” I muttered, practically fleeing into the bathroom.
The hot water grounded me. By the time I reemerged, Jaime had settled on his bed, scrolling through something on his phone while Pampi snored in a tiny, determined heap beside him.
He glanced up. “Feel better?” Jaime asked.
I wiped a towel through my hair. “Yeah,” I said, letting the word stretch. “Actually… I do.”
He set his phone down. “It was a good night.”
“Yeah,” I said again. The warmth in my chest hadn’t left. It had spread. Anchored. “It really was.”
He nodded once. We turned off the lights. The soft glow from the window painted silver shapes across the room. As I settled into bed, my wolf curled tight inside me, humming with something like hope.