Chapter 11 #2
Jared sits very still, watching me with an intensity that should feel invasive but somehow doesn’t.
“When things ended between us, I assumed Mixie would stay with me. She was mine.” The word catches in my throat. “But Auren said she belonged to the pack, and since I was the one leaving the pack, I couldn’t take her.”
“That’s bullshit,” Jared blurts out, then flushes, his hands clenching into fists on the table, knuckles whitening. “Sorry, but it is. You can’t just claim someone’s pet like that.”
His indignation on my behalf surprises me.
“So this Auren guy stole your cat? Your legally adopted pet?” Each question comes sharper than the last, color flooding his cheeks beneath the bruising. “Do you have adoption papers? Vet records in your name?”
“I do.” At his reaction, a warm, unfamiliar emotion blooms in my chest. “All of it. But he said we could share custody, and since I work—”
“Do you, though?” Jared demands. “How many times have you been allowed to visit?”
I shake my head. “He keeps telling me the timing is wrong, or Mixie isn’t feeling well…”
“That’s theft!” Jared’s jaw sets in a hard line, his shoulders squaring as if preparing for battle. “He had no right to take Mixie from you.”
A small smile tugs at my lips, impossible to suppress despite the ache of the memories. The sight of him sitting at my table, borrowed clothes rumpled from sleep, face bruised and swollen, yet angry over a cat he’s never met, strikes me as both ridiculous and touching.
“What?” he asks, catching my expression.
“Nothing.” I shake my head. “It’s been months. I’ve made my peace with it.”
“Have you?” His too-perceptive eyes cut through the careful wall I built around the loss. “Because you still keep her picture in the living room, and the carrier is still in your truck.”
“No.” The truth slips out before I can stop it. “I miss her every day.”
Jared leans forward, forearms braced on the table. “Then you should get her back.”
The simplicity of his statement catches me off guard. As if reclaiming what’s mine could be so straightforward. As if I haven’t spent months begging Auren for time with her.
“It’s not that easy,” I say.
“Why not? She’s legally yours. You have the paperwork.” His eyebrows rise in challenge. “What’s stopping you from taking her back?”
The question hangs between us, weighted with implications I’m not ready to face. What’s stopping me? Fear? Pride? The secret hope that, as long as Auren keeps Mixie, we’re still connected?
The timer goes off, saving me from responding, and I stand. “The bread will need another twenty minutes, and then we should head down to give your official statement.”
As I turn back to him, his focus dips to my neck, where my robe gapes from moving around. His pheromones spike, filling my kitchen with the scent of the sea, all saltwater and driftwood.
It hooks in my stomach, demanding a response, and flustered, I adjust my robe’s collar. “Finish eating while I go get dressed.”
“Okay."
But he doesn’t turn back to his food, and my feet stay planted. A stuttering purr rises from him, and he starts to stand, to move toward me.
The motion breaks whatever spell held me in place, and I spin on my heel, fleeing the room.
The security office door opens, sunlight spilling across the threshold as we step out into the dock’s parking lot.
Jared walks beside me, his posture straighter than it was when we entered an hour ago.
Officer Barnes stands in the doorway behind us, clipboard tucked under his arm. “That’s that, then. Case closed.”
Jared turns back, offering his hand. “Thank you for reviewing the footage.”
Barnes hesitates for a heartbeat before accepting the handshake. “It was only standard procedure. Nothing personal.”
The lie hangs between them. Everything about yesterday was personal, from the assumptions to the accusations to the marks left on Jared’s wrists from the handcuffs. They treated him like an outsider in Pinecrest and seized the chance to mete out their idea of justice.
Even now, after the security camera footage showed the truth of the situation, Barnes regards Jared with lingering suspicion.
“The resort will receive official confirmation by the end of the day,” Barnes adds, his focus shifting to me. “For their records.”
“Appreciate it,” I reply, keeping my calm.
These people watched the same footage we did of Jared leaving the wheel to break up a fight, reaching out to steady a falling woman, and getting punched for his trouble, but not an apology among them.
“Get out an APB for those two Alphas who jumped the boat after stirring up all this fuss,” I demand. “They deserve a fine, at minimum, for leaving the scene of a crime.”
Barnes grunts, which I don’t take as an agreement, but there’s not much else I can do.
We move away from the security office, weaving our way through the packed parking lot filled with tourists brought to town for the weekend market up on the boardwalk.
A group of dockworkers pause in the process of coiling ropes, tracking our progress, and two women at a coffee stand lean together, voices dropping as we pass. A man with a camera points it in our direction before his companion pushes his arm down.
“Will the dock security make sure everyone understands I’m innocent?” Jared asks, his shoulders stiffening.
“They’ll release a statement,” I murmur, though I doubt they’ll make a big enough splash about it to draw anyone’s attention to their poor police work last night.
Jared’s shoulders curve inward, the confident posture from moments ago vanishing with each passing stare.
I fight the urge to take his arm and put myself between him and their judgment. Instead, I step closer, our shoulders brushing as we walk. The proximity pulls his attention back to me, away from the whispers.
“They’ll find something new to talk about tomorrow,” I say, though we both know it isn’t true.
Small towns have long memories.
“You see that guy with the phone?” Jared tips his head toward a teenager who isn’t even trying to hide his recording. “They’ll post more videos. ‘Predator Alpha walks free.’”
A father pulls his young daughter closer as we approach. The girl stares at Jared’s bruised face with undisguised curiosity, and he wraps his arm around her shoulders, though we’re nowhere near them.
“The law cleared you,” I remind him. “The footage proves what happened.”
“The law isn’t the internet,” Jared mutters, his bitterness bleeding through. “The video is on a dozen platforms, destroying my reputation.”
“The truth matters,” I say, forcing conviction into the statement. “What actually happened on the water taxi matters more than what people think happened.”
Doubt shadows his sea-glass eyes. “Does it? Everyone already believes the lie. My mother’s pack was right. A scent-blind Alpha is a liability. If I could detect pheromones like everyone else, none of this would have happened.”
My fingers curl into fists at my sides. His mother’s pack should have protected Jared and taught him to navigate his difference instead of convincing the young Alpha he was broken.
“If you could detect pheromones, you’d be like every other Alpha,” I counter. “Quick to react, slow to think. You reached for that woman because she was falling, not because some biological imperative told you to.”
A small group of teenage boys points at us from across the square, snickering behind their hands, and one of them gestures obscenely.
Jared’s jaw tightens, tension running through him. “Let’s go. I don’t want to drag this out.”
Three steps from my truck, Jared stops and turns toward me, face set with unexpected determination.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, scanning our surroundings for a potential threat.
Jared’s shoulders straighten once more. “We’ve got one more stop to make.”
I raise an eyebrow in question. “The security office cleared you. We’re done here.”
“Not with that.” He shakes his head, wincing when the movement jostles his injured nose. “We need to go somewhere else before heading back to your place.”
Curiosity prickles along my spine. “Where?”
“We’re bringing Mixie home.”
The simple declaration steals my breath. In the harsh light of morning, surrounded by strangers who’ve already judged him, this young Alpha isn’t thinking of the injustice he’s suffered but of something he can fix.
“Jared…” My voice catches on his name. “We talked about this. Mixie’s Auren’s now.”
“But it’s not fair, and Mixie deserves better.” His eyes hold mine, unwavering. “The carrier is already in your truck. We’re not going home today without your cat.”
A flutter of hope stirs in my chest. “Auren won’t give her up without a fight. He doesn’t let go of things.”
“Neither do I.” Jared’s hand rises, almost touching my arm before dropping back to his side. “You saved me yesterday. Let me help you today.”
“Why?” I shake my head in bewilderment. “Why would you do this for me?”
“Because Mixie matters to you.” His answer comes without hesitation. “No one should take what belongs to someone else and get away with it.”
“Okay.” The response tumbles out before I can reel it back. “Let’s bring her home.”
The smile that breaks across his face is worth every stare, every whisper, and every moment of discomfort yet to come.
For the first time since Auren left with my cat under his arm and my heart in pieces, I feel hope unfurling in my chest.