Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-seven
JESSE
He found himself in the kitchen, the place where he’d begun to feel he belonged. It was gloomy in the dusk, suiting Jesse just fine as he dropped into what had become ‘his’ chair. He had to go, had to leave now, but he just needed a moment so he could remember how to breathe.
He knew he’d hurt Matt, maybe hurt him beyond telling, but better that than Matt ending up dead.
He’d get up and leave. Any minute now. Because every minute the darkness was growing.
The thump of swift footsteps on the porch outside made him freeze. He didn’t want to see anyone else, didn’t want a conversation. Just wanted to get out. He was already standing when the sound of his name stopped him.
“You know I don’t give a flying fuck about Jesse.” Christian’s voice, hard and angry.
One of his social workers used to say eavesdroppers never heard anything good. Jesse didn’t care. Not if it gave him an advantage. He stayed where he was, straining his ears and wondering how he could hear so easily. As he made out a couple of figures on the porch, he realized the window was open.
“But it’s not about—”
“It fucking is and you know it. You’re telling me Cale would be sniffing around if we didn’t have a fucking Argent leeching off us?”
“Christian.” Dave’s voice was calm, soft and smooth. Like he spent his time soothing Christian’s jagged edges. “You’re changing the subject. That’s not what this is about.”
“Yeah, it’s about you. You’re not going out there, not when Matt said no one had to. I don’t care what you say.” His voice, tight with barely controlled temper, held the ring of finality.
“For God’s sake, Christian.” Dave’s calm was slipping. “You always do this. You always decide what’s best for me, then get pissed when I won’t fall in line.” There was the sound of a deep, unsteady breath. “I get to decide what I think is worth fighting for. Not you.”
“Worth dying for?” Christian’s voice was raw, and Jesse very quietly slid toward the door. He had no business hearing this.
“But you’re going out there. If you’re—if you don’t come back… Do you think I just stop being your mate?”
Dave’s strained words, full of pain, haunted Jesse as he headed for his room. They kept going around his head as he shoved his belongings into his duffel. He was doing exactly the right thing, getting out before death and destruction could rain down on this pack who’d done nothing but welcome him.
Except… the pain in Dave’s voice at the thought of being left behind.
Oh, God. The breath punched out of Jesse and he sat back on his heels, mouth open in shock. No. No, that wasn’t what he was doing. He wasn’t like Christian, deciding what was best for Matt. Deciding he’d be left to live in pain after Jesse—his mate—had gone.
Matt had made a different choice, and Jesse had taken that away from him.
But if the alternative was Matt’s death, there was no other choice. Jesse swallowed hard. So why did it feel so damn wrong?
He sat frozen, mind whirling yet getting nowhere. He heard Tristan’s voice and Bryce’s low rumbling answers from the kitchen. He heard the back door bang, and then Jason’s quiet voice asking something. But he couldn’t hear the one person he was listening for.
Matt’s absence hurt, in a way he didn’t understand. His wolf was grieving somewhere deep inside.
Finally, he heard the door at the end of the hallway open. There was no mistaking Matt’s long, easy stride along the hallway. Right until he got to Jesse’s door, when his stride hitched, then stopped.
Jesse couldn’t breathe. He didn’t move, didn’t make a sound, but his wolf surged forward inside him, desperate. Jesse clenched his fists against the overwhelming urge to get to his feet, to open the door, to press against Matt’s warmth.
He’s going to knock, Jesse told himself. He’s going to knock. He’s going to stop me.
But the knock never came.
The silence stretched too long, and it hurt. Jesse’s throat worked, his pulse racing in his ears as he sat there, listening. Waiting.
A boot scuffed against floorboards, and he heard a slow reluctant step. Matt was walking away.
Jesse pressed his knuckles against his mouth, smothering a sound he didn’t recognize. One he’d never made before. His chest ached, like something had gone very wrong inside him.
Matt was letting him go.
Matt always fought. Matt was the most stubborn, protective alpha there’d ever been.
But not in this. He was letting Jesse leave because that was what Jesse wanted.
His wolf whimpered, sharp and broken. This was supposed to be the right thing to do, the only thing he could do.
So why did it feel like he was being torn apart?
Didn’t matter. He zipped his duffel and stood, wondering why his legs were trembling. There was no going back—the moment he walked out the door, there was no route back for him. Not to Matt, not to the pack.
The pack. That damn pack. If only Matt didn’t have a pack, if only he didn’t want Jesse as part of his pack, then Jesse could have stayed with him.
He hefted his duffel onto his shoulder and turned toward the door. It felt like his feet were stuck in quicksand because he just couldn’t take that step. That first step that would get him away from here.
Karl’s voice, low and serious, drifted through from the kitchen. How the hell had Jesse managed to stay here so long he could identify their voices, for fuck’s sake?
Because it wasn’t just a pack, he realized, and something inside him felt like it shifted, locked into place.
It was Bryce and Tristan and Jason. Karl and Dave and Christian.
They were people who cared about one another, had cared about him.
Except for Christian, though having overheard him with Dave, Jesse had a new understanding of how mad he must be at Jesse for hurting Dave.
The trembling got worse, and he doubled over, his duffel hitting the ground with a thud. His wolf threw itself against his insides, trying to get him to move. To go to Matt.
God, was this the right thing? He couldn’t be the cause of something happening to Matt, but if he left… Another sorrow to add to the sadness he’d seen in Urban’s eyes. Another wound, only this one wouldn’t leave scars on his skin.
He didn’t have the right to decide for Matt. Only for himself.
And Jesse wanted to stay.
The duffel lay abandoned on the floor as he stole toward the kitchen, each board underfoot betraying him with tiny creaks.
The kitchen was empty. Horror punched through him, cold and deadly. No. He wasn’t too late. He couldn’t be too late.
He lunged to the window—and thank God. He sobbed a breath as he gripped the counter. They were still there. Restlessly pacing on four paws, waiting for Matt’s signal.
The next thing he knew, he was shoving open the door, stepping onto the porch, and shifting. He hesitated for the merest instant under the barrage of eyes turned on him. Then he crept toward Matt.
This was the hardest thing he’d ever done, bar none. For so many years, his independence had been all he had, all he was. It had kept him alive. But maybe… maybe freedom wasn’t the most important thing anymore. Not if it meant losing Matt.
He dipped his head in submission as he approached, flattening his ears and tucking his tail. And then he saw the weight of sorrow in the green eyes on him, and his breathing faltered.
Matt didn’t look angry. He didn’t look disappointed. He just looked lost. Like Jesse had already left him. Jesse had thought he’d been protecting Matt, when really he’d been punishing him.
Panic speared through Jesse when Matt made no move to acknowledge him. Had he already ruined everything past mending?
He crouched and rolled over, baring his throat. Any one of the pack could rip him open, but he had to do this. For Matt. And maybe for himself.
He lay there, exposed, the finality of his choice a slow burn beneath his skin. And still, Matt didn’t move.
Jesse had left this too late. He’d rejected Matt, and now Matt didn’t want him. But he lay there anyway because without Matt… Without Matt, he’d never be whole again.
Matt shifted his weight minutely, an instinctive lean toward Jesse before he caught himself.
And Jesse understood. Matt wasn’t rejecting him or testing him. He was making sure Jesse truly wanted this, that he understood the weight of this moment. He was giving him the time Jesse had never given himself, allowing him to feel this, deep in his bones. Unshakable.
Jesse relaxed, secure in the trust he’d given Matt. And when Matt finally moved, when Jesse felt the soft brush of his muzzle, the warm, loving licks of acceptance, something inside him—something he’d kept locked away his entire life—unclenched.
Then Matt drew back, leaving Jesse alone and cold for an instant. But Matt was simply shifting, and Jesse instantly did the same. Matt looked at him, a tender smile in his eyes that stole Jesse’s breath.
“Jesse,” Matt said, his voice low and rough as he drew Jesse in and held him close, like Jesse was something precious. Something wanted.
Jesse buried his face into Matt’s neck, hiding the dampness in his eyes.
“I’ll keep you safe,” Matt promised, soft and low into his ear.
And Jesse wondered what had happened to him that that sounded like the best thing imaginable.
He didn’t need that, yet on some level… Something inside him welcomed it, almost like it was something he’d always wanted. Someone who saw him.
Matt dropped a kiss against his hair, and Jesse drew back, sliding his arms around Matt’s neck, reaching up to kiss him.
It was a brief kiss, but into it Jesse put all the things he couldn’t say in words, trying to let Matt know just what that goddamn stubborn, bossy alpha—the one who was patient, who got Jesse in a way no one else did, who gave him whatever he needed—meant to him.
“Keeping me safe ain’t what you need to worry about right now,” he said as he drew back. It was the closest he could come to saying what he meant, which was, please, God, stay safe and come back to me.
But if he couldn’t say it now, when could he?
“I trust you,” he said softly, unable to tear his eyes from Matt’s.
It wasn’t weakness, to trust someone else.
He understood that now. It didn’t threaten him—it expanded his world in a way he’d never expected.
Everything was different with two of them in his world, not just Jesse, alone, the way it had always been.
Matt’s face filled with warmth, and something that Jesse thought might be love.
Then a sharp whine drew their attention. Karl was looking toward the woods, every muscle in his body tight and tense. Matt kissed Jesse one last time, deep and tender.
As Matt drew away and shifted, Jesse took an unsteady breath and stepped back onto the porch.
He knew that if he went out there, he’d distract Matt and maybe inflame Cale.
He’d do what Matt wanted and stay here. That was part of trusting Matt.
Trusting him to know what was right for Jesse.
Not blindly, but—well, trustingly. And that word was getting a hell of a pounding right now.
Tristan was standing in the doorway, hands tucked under his arms, hugging himself tight as he watched his pack—his family—head into the night.
Jesse turned back one last time and found Matt’s gaze locked to his. That warmth, that quiet acceptance. It beat through Jesse—mine. Mate.
And then Matt was gone, gliding across the ground like a ghost into the growing dusk.