Chapter 23 I’ll Manage
Saturday morning I stood at the kitchen window with a glass of water, watching two crows fight in the bare oak across the street. One of them was clearly winning. The other refused to give ground. I understood the impulse.
I finished the water in a few swallows, left the empty glass in the sink, and headed out.
The walk to campus was cold. October had started pressing in, and the air was sharp enough to sting. I kept my hands in my pockets and my head down the whole way.
Cassidy was already at her locker when I walked in. I dropped my bag on the bench beside hers, unzipped my long-sleeved top, and reached for the sports tank.
“I’ve been very patient,” Cassidy said.
I pulled the tank over my head. “Patient about what?”
“With you pretending nothing is happening.” She shut her locker and turned to face me.
“He brought you coffee on Thursday, carried your bag yesterday, and you’ve said exactly zero words about any of it. I’m done waiting for you to bring it up on your own.”
I stopped with my hands still in my hair. “How do you even know about the bag?”
Cassidy’s grin was pure satisfaction. “I have eyes. And a very efficient network.”
“A network.”
“Yes. Mira saw you two on the path and told Talia. Talia told me at breakfast. We have a group chat.”
I stared at her. “You have a group chat about me.”
“We have one about everyone. You’re just the current main topic.”
I shut my locker harder than necessary. “Cassidy.”
“What? It’s college. People talk. You two aren’t exactly being subtle.”
A locker slammed two rows over. Naomi stood there, face tight, having clearly heard everything. She gave me one hard look, then turned and stormed out.
I grabbed my water bottle. “Come on. Let’s go.”
Cassidy fell into step beside me as we headed out to the field.
Both teams were already gathered at the track. Jackson stood with one foot up on the lower bleacher, stretching. He straightened when I came through the gate.
He had stepped it up over the past two days.
Finding me between lectures. Brushing his hand against mine like it meant nothing when it clearly did.
On Thursday we only shared one class, but he still managed to run into me twice—once outside the cafeteria and again on the path to the library.
At twelve thirty he texted to ask if I had eaten.
By twelve forty he was there with two coffees.
Yesterday morning he was already waiting outside the locker room when I came out.
That afternoon he came up behind me on the path, took my bag off my shoulder without asking, and walked me home.
His persistence was working on me. I could admit that much.
Beside me, Cassidy made a small noise. Jackson had stepped away from the bleacher and was already walking toward us.
"That's my cue," she said, already backing away. She wiggled her eyebrows at me. "Have fun."
She left, water bottle swinging, heading for the start line.
Jackson reached me a second later.
"Morning."
"Morning."
His eyes moved slowly over my face, scanning. He’d done it every morning since the first marks appeared. Whatever he saw today, his shoulders eased a fraction.
He stopped close enough that I could feel the warmth coming off him.
"You know," he said, "seeing you has become my favorite part of the day."
"You're laying it on a little thick."
The corner of his mouth twitched. "I'm actually holding back."
Coach Miller called us in and announced mixed pairs for the station rotations. Black and James was the third name called. We headed for station two together.
The first thirty minutes were a steady-pace run on the outer lane.
Jackson settled into a pace that felt natural.
I matched it without thinking. He had never been shy about being close to me, but something had definitely changed since Tuesday night.
When we first started running together he used to leave a polite half-foot of space.
His arm brushed mine on the curve and stayed there for two full strides before he eased off.
The hour followed the same quiet pattern in different forms. His hand at my hip when he passed me a water bottle.
His knuckles brushing the small of my back at every station change.
Once, while we waited for the whistle, his thumb traced the side of my neck for half a second and was gone.
My cat liked the attention entirely too much.
I could feel the wolves watching us.
Naomi’s stare was the sharpest. She didn’t even try to hide it. Most of the girls looked like they’d bitten into something sour. The guys kept doing double takes, whispering, trying to figure out why the alpha’s son was hovering around someone who wasn’t even a wolf.
Jackson either didn't notice or didn't care. Either way, he kept touching me — small, deliberate brushes that made it very clear to everyone watching that something had changed between us.
I should've stopped him. I never did.
We finished at half past eleven. Jackson handed me my water bottle before I even reached for it. He lingered a moment longer than necessary, eyes on my face.
“I’d walk you home if I could,” he said.
“You say that like I need an escort.”
“I know you don’t,” he replied, the corner of his mouth curving. “Doesn’t mean I don’t want to. But my father wants me on the territory this afternoon. Pack business.”
“Sounds thrilling.”
He gave a low chuckle. “Try not to miss me too much.”
I raised an eyebrow. “I’ll manage.”
He studied me for another second, then nodded. “I’ll text you later.”
“Okay.”
He left with that faint, private smile. I kept watching until he disappeared into the cluster of the men's team.
I showered quickly after practice, changed into jeans and a soft black sweater. I was hungry, and I wanted something sweet.
There was a small coffee shop on Maple I’d been to once before. I walked over, ordered a flat white and an almond croissant, and took the corner table by the window.
My phone buzzed a few minutes later.
Jackson: do you think cats judge us when we talk to them in baby voices
Me: they definitely do
Jackson: good. means they’re paying attention
Me: you’re ridiculous
Jackson: make you smile
A small smile slipped out before I could stop it. I set the phone down, took a sip of my coffee, and tore off a piece of the croissant. The coffee was good.
I had been there about ten minutes, absently watching the street, when I noticed Lia across the road with two shopping bags. She was walking past the café. Then she slowed, looked toward the windows, and crossed the street.
I watched her come.
She pushed the door open, scanned the room, and spotted me. Her face shifted into a small, surprised smile.
“Harper. Hey.”
“Lia.”
“I didn’t know you came here.”
“I don’t, mostly.”
“Mind if I sit? My feet are killing me.”
I gestured at the empty chair across from me. She set her bags down by her legs, dropped into the seat with a quiet sigh, and rolled her ankles once under the table. A short beat of silence settled between us.
“Look,” she said, leaning forward a little. “I know I’ve been distant with you. Cold, even. I’m sorry about that. It wasn’t really personal.”
I waited.
She kept her voice low. “Jackson’s family has always been my family. So when someone new comes into his life, I get… protective. Probably more than I should.”
I said nothing.
“I actually wanted to talk to you about him,” she said. “He’s been off lately. Distracted. Not really himself. I’m worried about him.”
I took a slow sip of my coffee. “He seems fine to me.”
“You’re new here. You don’t know what fine looks like for him.”
I didn’t answer.
She kept her voice soft. “I’ve known him since we were kids. He carries a lot — the pack, his father, all of it. He never asks for help. When things get bad, he just shuts people out. I’ve seen it happen before.”
I met her eyes. “Why are you telling me this?”
Lia looked down at her coffee for a moment. “Because you’ve only known him a few weeks. I’ve known him almost my whole life.” She gave a small, apologetic smile. “I just thought it might be better if you understood what you were getting into before things got serious.”
“You think I’m being na?ve.”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I think you’re making decisions without all the information.”
She looked down for a second, then back at me. “I almost stayed out of it. But I can see he’s serious about you now.” A small pause. “I just don’t think anyone’s told you what that really means.”
I waited.
“Jackson’s life has never really belonged to him. The pack comes first. His father made sure of that.”
“People don’t always do what’s expected of them.”
“Maybe.” She held my gaze. “I just wouldn’t bet on it.”
She studied me for another moment, then stood, picking up her bags.
"I'm only trying to save you some pain."
I gave her a small, cold smile. “You’re not.”
Her mouth tightened. “Fine. Don’t say I didn’t try.”
“I won’t.”
She left without another word. The door chimed behind her. I watched her walk past the window, shopping bags swinging at her sides, until she disappeared down the street.
My phone buzzed on the table.
Jackson: your people are acting up again
A link to a cat video followed.
I didn’t reply. I finished what was left of my coffee, still staring out at the street. Lia had come to test the waters. She would be back to dig deeper.
I paid the bill and walked home.
By two that afternoon, I was back at my desk, laptop open, a half-cold coffee beside my elbow.
The night Richard's body was found, I'd decided there probably wasn't a real witness. The past seven days had been about proving it. Every morning I checked the news. Most evenings I combed through forums, Reddit, Facebook and the pack-adjacent group chats.
Nothing had changed.
The Reddit post was still there. The neighbor who claimed he'd heard screams was still posting football scores, pictures of his dog, and complaints about traffic. If Thomas believed that man had seen or heard something, his life would have changed. It hadn't.
Inside the pack, there was only silence. The women's chats had spent the week swapping recipes and Sunday lunch plans.
Two pack men had been murdered in three weeks, yet no one mentioned it.
Outside the pack, the rumors spread unchecked. One hunting forum had locked its only thread after six posts. Near the end, someone asked whether "the thing" was being looked into. Not one person said witness.
Inside: silence. Outside: rumor.
A trap.
Thomas had buried the truth inside the pack and let speculation run wild everywhere else. If I'd believed there was a witness, I'd have started looking for one. I hadn't.
I closed the laptop.
My cat lifted her head. Nothing, I told her. He's trying to flush me out. She settled again.
I updated the mental file from probably none to operationally none, then reopened the camera feed.
John stood at his kitchen counter with a beer, half-watching a game on the small TV beside the toaster. Alone. Oblivious to the cameras hidden throughout his house.
I refined the kill plan until eight, then made a simple dinner and ate without tasting much of it. Afterward I lay in bed staring at the narrow strip of sky beyond the window.
I didn’t let myself think about Jackson.
It worked for about five minutes.