Chapter 15 Jackal
JACKAL
Garrett groans as he settles himself deeper into the pillows, one arm draped across his ribs, the way he always does when he’s trying to convince me he isn’t hurting. It’s not the first time either of us have come off our bikes, but it’s the first time the injuries have been so severe and painful.
And I would give everything I am to carry some of it for him.
His eyes are half-closed, wetness clinging to his eyelashes. I have no idea if they’re just watering with pain, he’s sweating, or he’s crying.
None of the answers make me feel any better. Especially since I just left Isla downstairs looking equally destroyed but muttering about keeping her hands busy by making us some dinner, though I don’t feel like I can eat. My stomach feels raw.
From the accident. And from holding on to Isla more intimately than a monogamous man should.
I sit on the edge of the bed, holding his hand, and study him.
He’s here.
Breathing.
Alive.
And that feels like a miracle.
My heartbeat is a stampede behind my ribs. A panic I’ve yet to wrangle back into a box. It blooms every time I see him wince.
The hammering has stopped, and everyone except Isla has left.
“You’re hovering,” Garrett says, his eyes blinking open again, his voice rough with pain and exhaustion.
“You nearly died. I’m certain it’s okay to be grateful for the face I nearly lost.”
He lifts a brow, unimpressed. “I spun out.”
I huff in exasperation. “You slid forty feet. No, not slid—you fucking bounced and spun.”
“And stopped without hitting the wall. Small mercies and all that.”
My breath stutters, a laugh and sob escaping at the same time. “I hate you.”
Gently, he reaches around the back of my neck and tugs me to him. I rest my forehead on him gently. “No. You don’t.”
I press my lips to his chest. “No. I don’t.”
His fingers stroke my neck. The gentlest touch he’s capable of right now. While he’s all prickly edges and blunt honesty out in the world, I love moments like this, when he’s tender with me.
“You good?” he murmurs.
“No,” I say, the word leaking out before I have the chance to catch it. “I thought that was it. The end of us before we even got to properly enjoy our life together.”
I lift my head so I can see him, and he’s watching me in the quiet and impossibly perceptive way only he can. There’s a silence between us, but as usual, he doesn’t rush to fill it, leaving space for me to tell him the truth before I suffocate.
“I love you. And it scared the shit out of me. And I know as soon as you’re feeling better, you’re gonna want to go shopping for a replacement bike, and, like always, I’ll ride alongside you. And I’ll remember what it felt like to see you spin. And yet, I’d never stop you from doing what you love.”
His hand slips to cup my face. “It’s who we are.”
“I know,” I rasp. “But if you ever scare the shit out of me like that again, I swear to God, I’ll kill you myself.”
Garrett snorts, winces, and presses his hand to his chest. “Great. Threats. You must be feeling better.”
“Don’t make me shake you.”
“My bones and muscles already had a good shake today. Plus, you shake me, I’ll pass out, and then you’ll cry. Again.”
I brush my lips over his. “Asshole.”
“Mm-hmm.”
I love that sound. It’s the one he makes when what we’re doing is about to lead us both into trouble. But he’s smiling. Soft and crooked.
Downstairs, something clangs. Metal on metal.
“Is she…cooking?” Garrett asks me.
“Sounds like she’s fighting with the pots,” I mutter. “I’m freaking out that she might be using metal spoons, scratching the nonstick coating.”
“She’s gonna be trouble, isn’t she?”
“Probably.”
Garrett’s fingers link with mine. His thumb running circles on the back of my hand. “Why is she downstairs, Wild?”
I swallow hard, promising to live up to my vow of always being totally honest with Garrett, even if it’s complicated. “She showed up. Didn’t even hesitate. And I didn’t realize just how much I wanted and needed her there until she was.”
His thumb stills for a second, then resumes, slower. “You needed her help coping with your feelings.”
“Jesus. Don’t say it like that. You make it sound sappy.”
“It was sappy.”
“I was in shock.”
“It’s okay to admit you’re falling for her.” He shifts and meets my gaze. His eyes are dark and tired, but it’s still, somehow, the safest place I’ve ever known.
And it’s no surprise he can read me, can see the turmoil that’s rumbling in my chest.
“We talked about this. I’m happy to be in a monogamous relationship with you.”
There’s a deep sigh. “But you miss it. Need it, even.”
I’m about to tell him I don’t. But the truth is far more complex. “I think I’ve proven to you that I don’t need it. That I’m happy to live my life with you. And I didn’t miss it. Not once in the years we’ve been together and you shared your feelings with me.”
“But now?”
“It’s been a day, Bear. You’re in pain, and I’m a mess. We don’t need to talk about this now.”
He touches my cheek. “I think it might be best for all three of us if we do.”
I look toward the door, in the direction of the hallway. “I didn’t miss it, until these last few days being around Isla. Doesn’t mean I’m going to jeopardize us.”
“Take what you need from her, Wild.”
I try to read Garrett’s face. “No. Because this is what you’ve been worried about. This is why you’ve been quiet, isn’t it?”
He huffs. “I saw it. When we helped Isla with all…that shit of hers into our truck. Because I’ve seen you look at me the way you were looking at her.”
“I thought I was more discrete than that. I’m sorry.”
“I meant what I said. If you need her too, we’ll make it work.”
My throat goes tight. “You’re okay with that?”
“You needed comfort. She was the one you wanted it from.” He holds my jaw for a moment. “And she gave it to you.”
“I’d rather have it from you.”
He touches my cheek. “You’d rather have it from us both.”
There’s another crash downstairs, like something breakable smashing on the floor.
Garrett huffs. “Christ. Definitely another loud one.”
I laugh again, but this time, it fades. I’m torn between these growing feelings for Isla and the ones for Garrett that have never wavered since the day I met him. But there’s something in the way he’s looking out into the hallway, as if he can see Isla.
“Garrett, am I the only one feeling this way? Because you need to tell me if I am. I don’t want you to martyr yourself for my happiness.”
His gaze flickers, vulnerable for half a breath, then steady again. “No, Wild. You’re not. But I’m in no position, for now, to do anything other than lie here. And I’m still working through the idea I’m turning into that predictable, hyper-generalized bisexual, collecting ‘one of each.’”
Relief floods through me. Perhaps Isla could be…ours. Once she gets over feeling like she was once everyone else’s. “So, you—?”
“Don’t make me say poetic things.” He grimaces. “I’m not built for it.”
“Then, just tell me in your words, so I’m clear.”
He sighs and closes his eyes. “She’s…good. Quiet in the right ways. Loud in the right ways. I don’t fully understand why she feels the need to be invisible now. But she still shines. Hard not to notice, and harder not to care. Wonder why we didn’t see it earlier.”
I look toward the staircase. “I don’t think she let us see this side of her while she was in the clubhouse. We saw the person she was trying to be, not who she is.”
“Wise words.”
“It doesn’t feel right,” I say. “I can’t start something with Isla right now, knowing you have feelings for her too. That feels like the wrong move. It opens a door to jealousy. And I don’t want that.”
“And Isla needs us now. In whatever form that help comes. She shouldn’t have to wait for us, or you, because I’m injured.
I’ve never done this, Wild. I gotta trust you know what we’re doing and let you lead.
Maybe it’s a shift from monogamy together.
I feel wrong, trying to control this, but…
I don’t think this means an open door to more relationships. ”
I think about what he’s saying. “Then, we need a rule. We’re a closed relationship, the three of us. If she’s only into one of us, we let her go. But it doesn’t mean we go looking for someone else.”
“You’d agree to that? For me? I don’t want to be the reason your heart breaks, Wild. Because you’re the only one who keeps mine together.”
“Urgh.” The word sounds like a growl. “And can’t you see, I don’t ever want to be the reason your heart breaks either.”
He takes my hand and squeezes it.
“So, we try?” I feel hopeful.
“She’s gonna need time,” Garrett says. “And safety. A steady hand to help her find her way through whatever trauma she’s carrying about the club. We go too fast and she’ll bolt.”
“She’s more like you than me that way.”
Garrett smiles. “I didn’t bolt.”
I chuckle at that. “Wrestling you down was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”
He takes my hand and kisses my knuckles. “You can’t go at her with that kind of energy, though. You’re a lot when your high beams are on.”
Downstairs, cabinet doors open and slam. A drawer slides closed. “Maybe I’ll channel that energy into installing some soft-close hinges to the kitchen cupboards.”
Garrett coughs and winces as he tries not to laugh. When he’s done, he settles and sinks a little deeper into the pillow. “Go on.” He tips his chin in the direction of the door.
“I’m not leaving you.”
He closes his eyes. “I’ll sleep. And you’re still hovering. Plus, you look like you might be able to breathe a little easier if you’re down there. If she’s open to it, kiss her. It’ll make you feel better,”
I hate that he’s right.
And I also love that he’s right.
I press a kiss to his temple, then his lips. “I’ll check on you every hour.”
“I know.”
“And if you try to get out of this bed, I’ll—”
“Stop fussing. And go. Before she burns down our kitchen.”
I roll my eyes and stand, giving him one last look, memorizing the fact he’s still breathing and that, if we all make it through the night, we’ll get another day tomorrow.
His phone sits on the bedside table, thankfully, not damaged in the accident, and I place it next to his hand. “Call me if you need anything.”
Then, I head downstairs.
A warm light spills across the old hardwood floors I want to sand and refurbish. Pots are stacked haphazardly on the island I want to replace. Something bubbles and steams on the stove.
And Isla is barefoot, hair tied up messily, sleeves rolled up to her elbows as she wipes down the counter with an intensity that suggests she’s overthinking.
She turns when my footsteps cause a floorboard to creak.
“Sorry. I know it’s late. The pan slipped out of my hand.” Isla gestures helplessly at the stove. “You had some chicken already cooked in the fridge. So, it’s the bones of chicken noodle soup because I thought that might be easy for Garrett to digest. You’ll need to add some noodles.”
She lifts her chin, and God, she looks soft and breakable and fierce all at once.
I don’t know how I didn’t notice before.
I mean, I noticed her before because she’s a good-looking woman.
But I guess I didn’t notice what a good woman was hiding beneath the veneer that stains most club girls over time.
There’s an air of jaded desperation, of trying too hard, about them.
I need someone to soften my jagged edges, not match them. And that was always the energy Isla gave off.
It takes me a moment to bite back the instinct to cross the room and wrap her up in my arms. Instead, I just step closer, slowly.
“You didn’t have to do all this,” I say.
“I know.” She drops her gaze again. “But I wanted to. After the accident, how scared you were…I mean…I just… I didn’t know what else to do that wouldn’t feel intrusive.”
My chest pulls tight at the memory of how she let me hold her. “You weren’t intrusive. You were perfect.”
Her cheeks flush as she ducks her head. She reaches for the cloth to carry on wiping down the counter.
“I think that’s clean enough, Isla. Are you okay?”
She nods too fast. “Sure. Yeah. Busy hands, quiet mind and all that.”
I do know. All too well.
I step closer. Close enough that I can smell the faintly fruity scent of her soap. “Garrett’s sleeping for a little while. He told me to come down and figure out if you were about to burn the house down with all the banging.”
She huffs a small laugh. “I wasn’t burning anything.”
“Sounded like a war zone upstairs, and Garrett’s had enough of those to last a lifetime.”
Her eyes open wide. “How did I not know Garrett was military?”
“Because he doesn’t like to talk about it too often.”
“Hmm.” She stirs the soup. “It was the pot lid’s fault. Not mine.”
The corners of my lips twitch. “If you say so.”
She shoots me a look. It’s half shy and half amused, and something warm curls in my belly. “You should sit,” she says.
Before I do, I light the fire. If I’m gonna relax for a heartbeat, I’m gonna be warm and comfortable.
There’s something domesticated about the scene as I kick off my boots and realize I’m still wearing my leather pants. So, I shimmy them off too, so I’m left in my jeans.
I ease into the chair, suddenly aware that the panic and adrenaline I’ve been riding since the crash left my system.
Because Garrett’s alive.
And Isla’s here.
And the man I love was right. I want to take what I need, but I also want to offer something back.
“Isla?” I say softly.
She glances over her shoulder from the cupboard she’s decided to clean. “Yeah?”
“Earlier…outside the house. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t shown up.”
She turns to face me properly, and I can see the way her breath catches.
“I mean it,” I add. “That moment…holding you…it grounded me. You grounded me. You kept me from tipping over and losing my shit.” My throat closes, for a second. “It mattered.”
“Kai.” She blinks fast, and when she looks up to the ceiling, I swear I see the shimmer of tears. “You did the same for me, when Grudge and Smoke appeared and I got overwhelmed.”
“We don’t expect anything from you. Not me. Not Garrett. We just…we like having you around.”
She swallows hard. “I don’t really know how to be around anyone right now.”
“We know. And that’s okay. We’re pretty patient.”
“Yeah, that’s exactly how I’d describe the two of you.” She lets out a shaky breath, a tiny smile tugging at lips I’m thinking long and hard about kissing.
She’ll be the first woman I’ve kissed in a long time. Hopefully.
Something tender suspends between us, reaching out in unfurling tendrils.
Then, the pot on the stove pops loudly, making her jump. And then, she laughs…like, really laughs…and something in my chest cracks wide open.
Because that’s a sound we’ve been missing.
And maybe it’s exactly what this house needs.