Chapter 10 Maybe I Was Wrong
Saturday morning was colder than the rest of the week. Both teams were already gathering on the track when I got there. The field buzzed with athletes warming up.
Jackson was already there. My cat found him before I did, her attention snapping toward him like a needle finding north. He was stretching with Jason and a few of the other guys, back partially turned. Naomi was positioned nearby, close enough to be in his orbit without being obvious about it.
Jason spotted me first and lifted a hand. “Morning, Harper.”
I nodded and dropped my bag by the bleachers.
When I looked up, Jackson had stopped moving. He was watching me, not subtle at all.
I held his gaze for a second longer than I should have, then looked away and pulled my hair into a ponytail. Even then, I could still feel him watching me.
The coaches gathered us in.
“Same setup as last week,” Coach Miller said. “Mixed pairs. Rotations. Thirty minutes per station. You stay with your partner.”
They read through the list. When they reached me, Miller barely glanced up from his clipboard. “Black and James. Same as last week.”
A ripple moved through the girls, heads turning, a few words exchanged behind hands.
Jackson walked over. “Morning.”
“Mm.”
“One day I’ll get a full sentence out of you.”
“Unlikely.”
Something in his expression warmed. “You’re consistent. I’ll give you that.”
We moved to our starting point. He stayed close, matching my stride without effort.
That ease irritated me most. The way we slipped back into the rhythm we'd found last week, like it hadn't been an accident then and wasn't one now. I lengthened my stride. A heartbeat later, he matched it, our breathing falling back into sync on its own.
Halfway through the next sprint, a shout cut across the field. Will, one of the guys on Jackson’s team, lost his footing and went down hard, his ankle twisting at an angle that made a few people nearby flinch.
Before the coaches reacted, Jackson was already moving.
He reached Will first, crouched, and assessed the situation in seconds while low words passed between them.
Will grimaced but still laughed at something Jackson said, then Jackson helped him up and let the injured man climb onto his back.
He carried him across the field, set him down gently on the bench, and stayed until the coaches arrived.
I watched the whole thing. My cat flicked her tail, pleased by the quiet strength, and I hated that I felt the same.
I had spent two weeks telling myself Jackson was nothing but trouble, a branch from a rotten tree, dangerous and persistent, but I had also seen him pick up a stranger’s scattered things without being asked, hold doors, push chairs back under tables.
Small things done without audience or expectation.
The apple might have fallen farther than I had wanted to admit.
Cassidy appeared beside me, following my gaze. She fanned herself. “God, he’s hot. Did you see how easily he lifted Will? Must be some cult ritual strength training behind those gates.”
I made a noncommittal sound.
“So…” She bumped my shoulder. “What time should I pick you up?”
I looked at her.
“For the party,” she clarified. “You said you’d think about it.”
I thought about the week, the dreams, the exhaustion of constant resistance. Maybe a few hours surrounded by loud music and people would finally exhaust my brain into behaving. “Fine. Eight?”
Her entire face lit up. “Wait, seriously?”
“One condition. We leave when I say we leave.”
“Absolutely. Total veto power.”
Coach Miller blew the whistle, signaling the end of the session.
Across the field Jackson straightened from the bench and started back toward me. Our eyes met. I looked away first.
My cat did not.
After practice, I headed straight home. There, I changed into shorts and a tank top, grabbed a bottle of water, and went out the back door. The yard backed onto a strip of woods, private enough for what I needed.
I stepped onto the flattest patch and let my body fall into the familiar rhythm of movement.
The basics came without thought, combinations building through muscle memory as each sequence flowed into the next—kicks, strikes, pivots, takedowns.
My breathing steadied and my mind slipped into the quiet place it only reached when my body was fully occupied.
I worked for an hour, maybe a little more, pushing until my legs burned before finally letting it go. I stood in the cooling air with my hands on my knees, catching my breath.
My cat had noticed the wolf twenty minutes earlier. I hadn’t bothered looking. If he wanted to watch, he could watch. I finished the workout before giving him the satisfaction of my attention.
I sat on the back steps and stretched properly. When I was done, I finally glanced toward the tree line. Large. Black. Still. Watching from between two oaks.
I stood, brushed the grass off my shorts, and looked directly at him.
“You’re not subtle,” I said. Then I went inside for a shower.
A wolf at the edge of my yard should have been a problem. The fact that it was not was starting to feel like one.
When I stepped out of the shower, I wrapped myself in a towel and stood in front of the mirror, deciding how much effort I was willing to put into the night.
More than usual, apparently.
I curled my hair into loose waves and went heavier on the makeup, smoky eyes and red lipstick. In the closet I chose a black dress. Fitted, mid-thigh. It hugged my hips when I smoothed it down. My phone buzzed with a text.
Cassidy: On my way. Do NOT change your mind.
I set the phone back down and reached for the thigh holster, sliding it up under the dress and positioning it high on my left thigh until the slim blade settled into place with a quiet click.
Then I smoothed the fabric back down over it, checking the mirror from a few angles and adjusting until there was no visible line.
I grabbed my phone and jacket and stepped onto the porch just as headlights swept the front of the house.
Cassidy leaned out the back window. “Get in before you change your mind.”
I slid in and shut the door.
The driver checked the mirror. “Hawthorne, number twenty-four?”
“Yes, thank you,” Cassidy said. “And please drive before she bolts.”
The car pulled away. Streetlights slid across the windows in gold streaks. Cassidy kept glancing at me, grin widening.
“You curled your hair.”
“Cassidy.”
“I’m just saying.”
“Say it quieter.”
She faced forward, still smiling. I watched the neighborhood roll by.
“One night,” she said after a moment. “Just exist in it. See what happens.”
The car slowed to the curb outside a house already pulsing with music.
“We’re here,” the driver said.
Cassidy reached for the door. “This is going to be fun. Ready?”
“No,” I said, and got out.
Cold air hit my bare legs. Bass thrummed through the ground, and the house glowed like it was trying to be seen from orbit. People crowded the lawn and sidewalk while music pounded hard enough to feel in my ribs.
Cassidy caught my wrist. “Come on.”
I let her pull me across the lawn, gravel shifting under my heels. The grass was already trampled flat and the air hung thick with the smell of cheap beer. I scanned the house automatically—two visible exits, moderate crowd outside, heavier inside. Low threat. Just college kids and cheap beer.
Cassidy leaned in. “God, I love college parties.”
My cat wrinkled her nose.
Cassidy didn't slow until we reached the porch. Someone held the door. Heat and noise crashed over us as we stepped inside.
The living room had been cleared for the crowd, furniture pushed to the walls and a makeshift bar set up along one side, the lights dim except for a strip of LEDs casting everything in shifting color.
I clocked the room in the time it took Cassidy to spot someone she knew—wolves, at least six, their scent threading through the air, a possible bear shifter, and humans who had no idea.
No Jackson. My cat noted the absence.
“Drink first,” Cassidy announced, already angling toward the kitchen. “Then we carve out a corner that isn’t trying to deafen us. Sounds good?”
“Lead the way.”
She cut through the crowd with practiced ease and I followed. The kitchen was slightly less packed. Cups were stacked on the counter next to a row of bottles. She grabbed two, poured something strong and sweet into both, and handed one to me.
“Drink,” she said.
I sniffed at it, then tipped the cup back and drank it in one go. The burn hit first, followed quickly by warmth spreading through my chest. Shifter metabolism burned through alcohol fast, so drinking it all at once was the only way to get a brief window where I actually felt it.
Cassidy watched me, eyebrows raised. “Jesus. You drink like you’re trying to forget something.”
“Or just trying to survive the night,” I muttered.
She studied me for a beat, then threw her own drink back. She immediately coughed hard, eyes watering.
“Fuck. Okay, I see why you did it that way.”
Warmth settled low in my stomach, a soft hum under my skin, and my cat stretched, pleased.
Cassidy bumped my arm. “Come on. Let’s dance before I lose my nerve.”
I followed her to the living room. She found a bit of space and started moving, and after a minute I let myself follow the rhythm, the alcohol and the low thump of bass doing most of the work.
Two guys drifted close. I caught the eye of the first and shook my head once. He recalibrated and drifted away. The second got a look that communicated the same thing more efficiently, and he found somewhere else to be.
We danced fifteen minutes or more until Cassidy grabbed my arm and shouted something about finding the bathroom. She disappeared into the crowd before I could stop her.
I slipped toward the back of the house and found a door that opened onto a narrow side porch. The noise dropped by half the moment I stepped through it. The air outside was cool and clean, a welcome change from the crush inside.
Then the door opened again behind me and someone stepped onto the porch.