Chapter 54
JASE
I’m still worse than riled when Bailey and I get home. Sherry fully intended to end my mate’s life, despite seeing my mark on her, smelling my scent on her, and knowing what that means to me.
I could smell my mate’s blood on her!
Bailey’s face has partially healed gouges the exact shape of an adult female shifter’s right front claws. I’m done with that cunt and all her bullshit and told her and my parents as much before I grabbed my mate’s hand and stormed out of there.
Taylor was pulling up as we were leaving, looking quizzically at us as I pulled Bailey down the street probably with a face full of rage. I said nothing since she had one of my nieces with her.
Bailey’s phone began ringing two or three minutes later and as we walked home, Bailey talked to Taylor on speaker.
“I’m so, so sorry you guys. Mom and Dad told me what happened and it’s my fault. I was all discombobulated when Lucy called and I fucked up and forgot to sedate her.”
I growled, wanting to rip something to shreds.
“I totally understand. We’re almost home and I’ll call you in a bit. That okay?” Bailey asked, winded, but my sister spewed more apologies.
“Can I call you later, Tay? We’re almost home and Jase needs a minute to calm down.”
“Okay. Jase heard me apologize?” Taylor asked.
“He did. He’s just… processing.”
“Got ‘cha. I’m sorry, Jase. I really am.”
“Later, Tay. Don’t feel bad, okay?” Bailey said. “I’ll call you later.”
***
I scowl as I shove our front door open.
When she closes the door, our eyes meet.
“Don’t feel bad?” I ask, incredulously.
“She didn’t do it on purpose,” Bailey reasons, tossing her handbag to the console table inside the door. “Um, for your information, I’m not an athletic girl,” she says.
“What?”
She’s holding her side.
“I don’t do cardio, Jason. I do cupcakes. And I just had to powerwalk for six blocks to keep up with you. I have a cramp!”
I blow out a frustrated exhale and flop onto the couch, rubbing my eyes, feeling beyond frustrated. “Sorry, baby. I’m so fucking pissed. At Sherry. Pissed at Taylor…”
“Don’t be mad at Taylor–” she starts to say, but my phone rings. It’s my dad.
I’m also pissed at myself for leaving my mate alone this morning. Because of what would’ve happened if I hadn’t gotten there when I did. Because if I’d been home when Taylor called, I’d have been the one to sit with Sherry and this wouldn’t have happened.
Bailey goes upstairs while he tells me Sherry understands where things are at and prefers to be sedated, because if she’s being forced to carry Wyatt’s kid, she doesn’t want to be awake until it’s out of her.
She claims the pregnancy is stopping her from thinking straight, which is a fucking excuse if I ever heard one.
Pops says that furthermore, if that kid is being adopted by anyone in this pack, Sherry wants it known she’s not staying.
She’ll move to our aunt’s pack in California.
She wants us to make sure the kid is adopted by someone in another pack, preferably far away.
“Pops, I want her gone. I want her the fuck out of here, so I’ll do my best to make sure we offer that kid to someone local if it makes sense and I hope it does. But even if nobody local wants to adopt, even if she thinks she’ll change her mind about leaving, she’s got no choice. She’s gone.”
He tells me Sherry wants to talk to me before they put her back under.
I refuse. My father says he understands and we end the call.
Should’ve turfed my sister out when Mase wanted it, when Sherry told Amelia hurtful shit that turned Mase’s world upside down.
It still shits me that my sister had the nerve to do that in the middle of Tyson and Ivy’s wedding reception.
That was a happy day for the pack. And she shat on it.
I’m still fucking seething, but I’m about to go find Bailey so holding her can soothe my anger when my phone rings again with my mother’s name.
I answer. “Ma, I’m not fuckin’ talkin’ to her.”
“Jase, please… let me apologize.”
Not Mom.
“Fuck you, Sherry,” I say. “You’re dead to me.”
“I th-think it’s his evil kid in me. It’s evil, like he was, and it made me do that. I would never hurt your mate, I–”
“Bullshit. That’s exactly who you are. A vindictive, mean-spirited bitch who’s shown those are your colors your whole life.
I have nothing more to say to you except this: you ever threaten or get anywhere near Bailey, you ever make any plan to cause her any harm whatsoever, I’ll kill you slowly with my bare hands.
As soon as you wake up after that baby is born, you’re no longer welcome in Arcana Falls.
If our parents or other family members want to see you, they can do it somewhere else.
” I end the call and turn the fucking phone off.
“Hey,” Bailey whispers from the bottom of the stairs.
I rush to her and pull her close, burying my face in her hair.
“Squeezing me too tight, Jason,” she squeaks.
I loosen my grip but lift her and take her to the couch, sitting her on my lap, burying my face in the crook of her neck.
“I love you,” Bailey whispers, palms sliding up and down my back.
“Love you,” I choke out.
“She’s your sister, and maybe–”
“You’re my soulmate. You’re number one.”
“Thank you, Jase. That means everything to me. But if–”
“No,” I deny. “An alpha knows menace when he sees it and I didn’t just see it, I felt it the instant I set foot in that house. She would’ve ripped you apart. Taken all her frustrations out on you. Like she’s done her whole fucking miserable and bitchy life.”
Feeling that fear, that sheer terror through my connection to Bailey in the middle of my chest just before I got to my parents’ door is something I’ll never forget. I’ll bust my ass to never feel that again.
Why my sister decided Bailey was her arch nemesis from a young age is beyond me.
There’s no good reason for it. Bailey’s always been sweet, good to the core, well-loved by everyone in the pack.
Sherry has had a hate on for her since they were in kindergarten and it got worse and worse over the years.
Watching Bailey get what Bailey wanted while she was stuck in post-Wyatt Meadows misery made it worse, I guess.
It doesn’t matter why; it’s just done. She’s dead to me.
I look my mate over. Her cheek isn’t bleeding, but those marks are still there and the skin looks raw and sore. “You need to shift again and heal your face.”
She nods, but mid-nod, she shifts. Her little wolf took my suggestion as a command.
She sits like a little bookend, panting, tail thumping on my lap, giving me her eyes.
I press my mouth to the top of her head. She’s part of Bailey, still a bit separate, but she gets kudos for her bravery.
“Good girl,” I say and put my forehead against hers. “Thank you for trying to keep yourself safe. Now, shift back.”
Bailey rises to her feet, lifting her dress and her underwear from the couch. Her face is healed, but there’s trouble in her eyes as she looks me over.
Bailey’s phone rings. “That’s Mom’s ringtone,” she says, eyes pinging to her bag by the front door.
I gesture for her to go ahead.
***
I’m upstairs, working on Bailey’s bookshelves, throwing myself into it.
She’s downstairs and her mother just left.
I was relieved when I saw the car pull away after just a couple minutes because I’m in no mood for company and the visit was short enough it probably wasn’t taken as bad manners that I didn’t go down there and say hello.
“Hey?” she calls.
I look over my shoulder and my mate is standing behind me with a plate of sandwiches.
My eyes coast over her face, looking for signs of the gouges Sherry’s claws left.
The fact that it took two shifts to clear it shows how deep those claw marks penetrated, which is fucking infuriating.
I’m not sure how long I’ll see the ghosts of those marks.
If Bailey didn’t have the ability to shift, those would’ve permanently scarred her.
If I’d been later than I was, Bailey might not even fucking be here.
I push the anger back, set my measuring tape down, and move toward her.
“What’s this?”
“Skye’s Goober on Mom’s bread,” she answers.
My eyebrows go up.
“It’s a peanut butter and strawberry jelly swirl in a jar.
It was in the Skye Quinn basket. She makes it with berries from her own garden.
It’s on fresh white bread, which Mom dropped off along with some fruit and other fresh treats for us as well as a couple things like a dress I asked her to get cleaned for tonight.
” She shrugs. “Perfectly edible, I’m sure. ”
“Who put the Goober on the bread? Your mom?”
“Me,” she says sheepishly.
“And you’re assuring me it’s edible?” I ask.
“It might be more than edible. It might even be delicious,” she quips with a big smile.
“We’ll see about that, I guess,” I quip direly.
Her mouth twitches with humor and she holds the plate out.
I lift a half sandwich and examine it. The Goober stuff is pretty fucking thick.
I take a bite.
“Mm,” I nod.
“Good?” she asks hopefully, setting the plate on a stack of lumber.
It takes a minute before I can talk because the peanut butter and jam mixture is so thick it’s like my tongue is glued to the roof of my mouth.
She put about three times the requisite sandwich amount on the bread.
But once I’ve gotten my first bite down my throat, I give her a thumbs up.
“A little pasty. Felt like you did that on purpose to hide medicine in there, but otherwise not bad.”
She looks so proud of herself I decide right here and now that whatever she makes for me, I’ll eat it and do my best to like it.
“I’ll go get us a drink.” She turns to rush away but I set the rest of the sandwich on the plate so I can snatch her and pull her close, hauling her scent into my lungs. She melts into me.
A heavy weight sinks in my gut.
I could’ve lost her today.