Chapter 30 Jackal
JACKAL
Four days later, the room smells like sex and us.
The faint scent of leather and burning firewood.
The bed creaks when Garrett finally shifts beside me, now that we’ve wrung every last ounce of tension out of each other.
I’m lying on my back, sweat still clinging to me as I try to catch my breath.
Color washing.
I’m glad I made that choice for the ceiling.
And I smile.
Because this is the life we made together.
Bear rolls gently onto his side. He’s come a long way in the time since the accident. He still has some pain in his ribs that means he’s slow to move. But this morning, after Isla had kissed us both goodbye and gone to work, refusing an escort from me, Bear reached for me.
His hair is damp at the nape and temples, his beard dark where the sweat hasn’t yet dried. He looks relaxed in a way he didn’t used to.
“You good?” I ask, rolling onto my side to face him.
He strokes my hair. “Obviously.”
“Humor me and think about the answer, for a second. Are you really good?”
He studies me for a while. Checking and searching my face for clues. “Yeah,” he says finally. “I’m good.”
I kiss him tenderly. “And are we?”
That earns a longer pause. But his fingers reach out to trace the scar over my pec that I got at a bar fight in Miami. “Never loved you more.”
Something tight in my chest loosens.
“Good,” I admit. “Because I don’t want to lose this. I don’t want to lose you and me for anything.”
“Do you ever feel like you’re being greedy? Hoping for two loving relationships when most other people only get one,” he asks.
“Sometimes. Why are you asking?”
His jaw tightens, not defensive. Just something he does when he’s thinking. “I used to think that polyamory meant someone always got less,” he says. “That it was pie. You divide it up and hope no one notices they’re getting less.”
I snort at that. “Of course, you’d reduce love and its mysteries down to a pie analogy.”
“Yeah.” His mouth twitches. “Turns out, I was wrong.”
I slip my hand around his neck and stroke my thumb over his pulse. “Expand on that.”
He exhales slowly. “I don’t love you less because of her. And I don’t love her instead of you. I think I love her, as well as you.”
The word lands clean and decisive. Love.
My first instinct is relief so sharp, it hurts.
And yet, I feel the slightest sting of predictable envy.
People think polyamory is for people who never feel jealous.
The truth is, it’s feeling the benefits of polyamory are worth more and having the emotional maturity to do the work to overcome the envy.
“Thank fuck,” I say.
His brow lifts. “That wasn’t the reaction I expected.”
“I didn’t want to put words into your mouth or lead the conversation.”
“And?”
“And I’m in the same place. My feelings for Isla are growing. Can’t help it. But I was beginning to wonder if I’d somehow…broken us by wanting to love her, as well.”
Garrett slides his hand to my chest, placing his palm flat over my heart. “You didn’t break us.”
“Intellectually, I knew that…”
Garrett swallows. “I feel a little guilty. Like I’m letting you down by falling for her.”
I lean in and place my forehead to his. “Listen to me and listen well. I have spent years loving you in a way the world doesn’t always have room for.
I chose you every single day when it would’ve been easier to disappear.
” I breathe him in and kiss him. “You loving her doesn’t take anything away from you and me. It makes us bigger.”
His eyes shine a little. I’ve never seen the man cry unless he was in real pain. “You sure?”
“Yeah,” I say, without hesitation. “And maybe we should talk to Isla about this. Explain that we’re solid, that she isn’t a wedge between us. That she’s an addition. And it’s okay to love us differently.”
Garrett nods. “We should definitely have that conversation with her.”
“Let’s do it tonight, after we’ve been to the clubhouse. We said we’d go yesterday.”
“I’m scared, Wild. I know we’ll manage whatever happens. But…fuck…knowing that everything I’ve worked for in the club could come to a grinding halt because our brothers can’t get their heads around the idea I love you. It’s gonna take some getting over.”
“I know you’re scared. But it’s not going to happen. And you’re not on your own, this time. I’ll be right by your side. We’ll put ourselves on the line, because this life we want to build is worth it and requires it.”
For our safety, we want to be fully transparent with the club. The purpose of settling here is to be open and out and an Outlaw. If we can’t make that work here, it would be better to know that before our roots get any deeper.
And people are starting to find out now, anyway.
Butcher and Greer have likely guessed.
Catfish and Wren know.
Even Karlie knows.
And it’s starting to feel like we’re deceiving our friends. Friends who we’re likely to need help from.
Thankfully, Grudge already called a meeting today with just the core leaders of the club, so we’re going to add it as an agenda item.
Silence settles between us, comfortable, as always.
After a minute, Garrett chuckles. “This must be the most emotionally mature conversation we’ve had in this bed.”
“Don’t ruin it,” I say with a laugh. “Are we going?”
“We should shower, first,” Garrett says. “You might have to wash my feet, as there’s no way in hell I can bend to reach them, yet.”
I roll out of bed. “Might even suck your dick while I’m down there.”
That gets a chuckle. “You seem to have forgotten I’m forty. I need more than ten minutes to recover.”
It takes an hour for us to get out the door. We wash each other, including his feet. And while it did take more than ten minutes, he came twenty-two minutes after his last orgasm.
The clubhouse is pretty empty when we get there.
Wraith is leaned back against the far wall, arms crossed, reading something on his phone.
Atom’s lounging in a leather chair nearby.
His foot taps with his restless energy. Smoke is playing pool by himself, mindlessly walking around the table potting balls.
Grudge is in his office with Wren. They’re poring over some papers.
“What’s going on in there?” I ask Catfish, who is sitting at the bar nursing a coffee.
He shrugs. “They’re working on a long-term strategy for the club. That’s what Grudge wants to talk to us about.”
“And you don’t know what it is?” Garrett asks.
Catfish, one of the more laid-back brothers, shakes his head. “Nope. They want my opinion, they’ll ask.”
I look over to the room and see Wren offer their fist to Grudge with a smile on their face. Grudge looks at it for a second, then rolls his eyes, like he’s humoring a younger sibling, and bumps it with his own.
Wren laughs, then pats his shoulder as if reassuring him.
Grudge looks over to us and shouts, “Let’s get this meeting started.”
Wren goes to pack up their things as we walk in, but Grudge puts his hand out to stop them. “You should stay,” he says.
Wren looks confused. “I thought this was for the official club leaders only.”
Grudge huffs. “Wren, you helped write the damn thing. Stay while we discuss it.”
Catfish takes his usual chair and pats his lap. “You can come sit over here, if you like.”
Wren rolls their eyes. “I’m happy over on this side of the table.”
“I’d be happier if you were over here,” he replies.
“I’d be happier if you’d stop hitting on Wren in church,” Wraith says.
Grudge closes the door. “And I’d be happier if you all shut the fuck up.” He moves to his chair at the head of the table and takes a seat. “First, this isn’t a crisis meeting. No one fucked up. Nobody’s in trouble.”
“Solid intro,” Smoke says. “My ball sack just relaxed and dropped six inches.”
I look at our road captain. “If your ball sack just dropped six inches, we should get you to a hospital.”
He pats his junk. “Maybe I’ve just got a big ball sack.”
“If you start getting them out to compare, I’m leaving,” Wren says.
Atom laughs. “Don’t think we’ve compared genitals since we were kids. You’re safe.”
“Fuck me,” Grudge mumbles. “Can we stay on topic?”
“Yeah, shut up and listen to Wren ‘cos they’re really fucking smart,” Catfish says. “And if I say nice things about them, they might touch my b—”
“Shut. Up.” Wren collapses into laughter as they throw a paperclip across the table at their boyfriend.
“Anyway,” Grudge says loudly.
Catfish raises a hand. “Sorry. Continue.”
“We got two things,” Grudge says. “Have you all read the plan that Jackal and Shade pulled together to level up our skills?”
There are nods around the table. “Solid plan,” Atom says.
“It was mostly Shade’s work,” I say.
“Can we add shit?” Smoke asks. “Because I’m thinking things like, fire and recovery. Like, if some dick fires a missile launcher through the clubhouse. Or forest fires come through.”
“It’s a work in progress,” Garrett says. “Add away.”
“Can we debate the shit we have to learn,” Atom says. “Because I’m not sure I have the fingers or patience for safe-cracking?”
Grudge nods. “Fitness and marksmanship are non-negotiable. The rest, we can discuss, but everyone should, at least, pick up two new skills that are valuable to the club this year. And we can’t have twenty people all training as medics and no one becoming a lock smith or bombmaker.”
“Understood,” Atom says.
“So, we all agree to rolling it out?” Grudge asks.
There are various mutters of consent, then, Grudge looks to Garrett and I. “The two of you can roll it out as soon as the big guy is feeling better. Good work.”
Garrett tips his chin in thanks, but I feel proud of all the effort he’s put in. Might even reward him by sucking his cock later.
“Also,” Grudge continues, “Wren’s been helping me map out club vulnerabilities.”
Wren straightens slightly. “Patterns. Just places where attention seems to cluster and how that might leave the club…”
“Vulnerable?” Grudge fills in.
“Fine. Call it vulnerabilities,” Wren says.
Wraith snorts. “Is that a polite way of saying we’re being sloppy?”