Chapter 33 Trauma Can Block The Bond
The next week settled into a rhythm that somehow felt both peaceful and too fast. State was three Saturdays away, and Coach Miller refused to let anyone forget it. Between classes, training, my school project with Jackson, and surveillance, I ran on fumes.
I had just finished a martial arts session in the yard when I checked the time. One hour left before Jackson picked me up. We planned to finish the project at his place tonight, then sleep over and head to morning practice together.
Assuming we actually worked on the project.
Which felt optimistic, considering the last few times we'd "worked."
When I stepped inside, Artemis wound around my ankles in tight dramatic loops, meowing like he had not been fed in days.
“Yes, yes. Your suffering is unimaginable.”
I scooped him up and stroked his soft fur.
He was now a completely different creature from the filthy gremlin I'd found.
I'd washed him on his first night, and he'd treated the bath like an attempted murder.
By the end, the floor was soaked, my clothes were soaked, my forearms carried three matching scratches, and Artemis looked like a furious wet rat.
I won. Barely.
Mira and Talia met him the next morning and fell in love before he finished his second bowl of tuna.
Both fox shifters were instantly devoted.
That pretty much guaranteed Artemis free rein of the house.
He explored constantly, though most nights he still ended up in my room.
Usually on my pillow. Sometimes directly on my face.
I scratched under his chin. He closed his eyes.
“I am leaving you tonight, you know.”
He blinked slowly.
An hour later, Jackson texted that he was outside. I shouldered my overnight bag, kissed the top of Artemis’s head, and walked out. Jackson leaned against the front of his SUV, hands in his jacket pockets, watching me come down the path.
He pushed off the car. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
He leaned in and gave me a short, warm kiss in welcome before lifting the bag off my shoulder. He opened the back, dropped it inside, and shut the hatch, then opened the passenger door for me.
“You do not have to do that every time.”
“I know.” He did it anyway.
I settled into the passenger seat and looked back at Jackson. He hadn't moved. He was staring toward the house. I followed his gaze.
Artemis sat on the front windowsill, his tail wrapped around his paws, watching us through the glass.
Jackson’s jaw worked once. “He is watching me.”
“He is watching me leave.”
“He is watching me take you.”
“You are losing your mind.”
“He started it.”
Artemis blinked slowly. Just once.
Jackson narrowed his eyes at the window like the kitten had thrown down a glove.
“Get in the car,” I sighed.
He closed my door, walked around, and slid into the driver’s seat. He checked the window one last time before putting the SUV in gear.
The rest of the night went about as well as I should have expected. We eventually finished the project, got distracted more than once, and fell asleep tangled together.
Sunday morning practice was brutal. Coach Miller was in one of his moods, which meant nobody was allowed joy or functional legs. Sweat clung to the back of my neck, and my legs felt like concrete by the time it was over.
After a quick stop in the locker room, I walked beside Jackson toward his SUV. My phone buzzed inside my sports bag. Before I could find it, it buzzed again. I pulled it free just as the second notification lit the screen.
Blake: you free today—
I barely registered the text before I felt Jackson’s attention sharpen.
Uh-oh.
“Why is he texting you?” His voice was low.
“I don’t know.”
He opened the passenger door, but the easy mood from earlier had vanished. Tension edged his expression. Focused. Irritated. Territorial enough that my cat lifted her head with interest.
I climbed in. “I haven’t even talked to him.”
“But he’s texting you.”
“I noticed.”
Jackson shut the door, circled the SUV, and got in. The engine rumbled to life. His gaze flicked to my phone where it rested on my thigh.
“You used to hook up with him.”
There it was.
I leaned my head back against the seat. “Jackson.”
“What?”
“I have not spoken to Blake in weeks.”
“That doesn’t answer why he suddenly wants to know if you’re free today.”
"Honestly, I don't know."
Jackson kept his eyes on the road, his grip a little tighter than usual on the steering wheel.
“You going to answer him?”
“I haven’t even read the whole message yet.”
He didn’t reply. His mouth flattened and he changed lanes harder than necessary.
I stared at him. “You’re jealous.”
He was quiet for a beat.
“Yeah,” he said. “I am.”
The honesty caught me off guard.
He kept his eyes on the road. "I don't like him thinking he still has access to you."
“He doesn’t.”
“He thinks he does.”
I exhaled. “And that’s my fault?”
“No.” His voice softened, almost reluctant. “I just hate it.”
When he pulled into my driveway, neither of us moved at first.
“Are you coming in?” I asked.
His eyes lifted to mine, dark and stormy with everything he wasn’t saying. Want. Frustration. Need.
“Yeah,” he said. “I’m coming in.”
I unlocked the door and stepped inside. He followed close enough that I could feel the heat of him at my back.
The house was quiet. Mira had gone home for the weekend.
Talia had left early to visit her sister.
When we reached my room, Artemis was curled in the middle of my pillow. He lifted his head sleepily.
Jackson stopped in the doorway.
“No,” he said. “Move.”
Artemis didn’t move.
I laughed under my breath. “He was here first.”
“Unfortunate for him.”
Jackson crossed the room, scooped the kitten up, and carried him toward the hallway while Artemis let out a tiny, betrayed meow.
“You are unbelievable,” I said.
“He knows what he’s doing.”
“He’s like five months old.”
“He’s possessive.” Jackson set Artemis down outside the room. The kitten immediately tried to slip back in. Jackson blocked him with one foot.
“So am I.”
He shut the door firmly in the kitten’s face. A deeply offended meow sounded from the hallway.
I was still smiling when Jackson turned back to me.
“I can’t believe you’re jealous of a cat.”
“I’m jealous of anything that gets your attention.” The words came out low and completely serious.
Before I could answer, Jackson crossed the room in two strides, caught my waist, and pulled me against him. His mouth found mine, hard and possessive, the last edge of frustration still there.
Outside the door, Artemis meowed again, but I barely registered it.
Jackson kissed me harder. One hand slid beneath the back of my shirt, palm broad and hot against my spine, while the other tangled into my hair. He walked me backward until the backs of my knees hit the bed. I let myself fall, pulling him with me.
He came down over me, catching his weight on one forearm so he didn’t crush me.
His mouth dragged slowly down my throat, teeth grazing my skin in a way that sent heat spiraling through me.
My hands slid under the hem of his shirt, palms greedy against the hard lines of his back, shoving the fabric upward.
Jackson sat back just long enough to yank the shirt over his head and toss it aside. The sight of him hit me low in the stomach: broad shoulders, bare chest, that dark, hungry look in his eyes.
That was the last coherent thought I had for a while.
Much later, Jackson lay half on top of me, heavy and warm, his head tucked against my shoulder while my fingers moved lazily through the damp hair at the back of his neck.
The earlier tension had burned away. What was left felt softer. Sleepier.
My cat stretched lazily inside me, warm and content. The room had gone quiet. Artemis had finally given up his protests in the hallway.
For a while neither of us spoke. I listened to the steady rhythm of his breathing, felt the slow thump of his heartbeat against my chest.
“Harper.” His voice was rough, quiet.
“Mm.”
He shifted, lifting his head so he could look at me. His eyes were dark, serious, a little uncertain.
“I have to tell you something.” He took a slow breath. “I’ve been sitting on this for a while. Telling myself to wait. That there’d be a better time.”
I went still beneath him.
“I think you’re my mate.”
My heart stopped. “What?”
He didn’t look away. "I think you are."
My pulse hammered in my ears.
“No. That can’t be right. I would have felt it. I should have known.”
“Not always,” he said.
I shook my head, sitting up. “Jackson, that’s not how it works. Mates feel the pull. They know. It’s supposed to be obvious.”
He sat up too, facing me fully. "Usually. But not always."
I didn't like where this was going. “What are you saying?”
“I am saying there is something in your past you will not talk about,” he said gently. “Something that makes you carry a knife everywhere. Something that makes you flinch when someone moves too fast. Something that makes you sleep with your back to the wall.”
My breath caught.
He continued, voice low and steady. "Trauma can bury the bond. It doesn't mean it isn't there.”
I looked away, blinking hard. “You do not know that.”
“I do,” he said. “Because my wolf recognized you long before I did. Nothing else makes sense to him anymore.”
The ache in my chest sharpened. I wanted to argue, to push it all away, but the words stuck. “This doesn’t make sense. I’m not… I can’t be what you need. Not with everything I’m carrying.”
“Harper—”
“No.” I shook my head. “I don't know how to do this.” My voice dropped to barely a whisper. “I don't know how to be someone's mate.”
“You don’t have to know right now,” he said softly. “You just have to stay.”
That was the problem. Feeling was dangerous. Feeling was how people got hurt.
“I need air,” I whispered, pushing the blanket aside. “I need to think. Alone.”
Jackson scrubbed a hand through his hair, a low growl rumbling under his skin, but he didn’t reach for me. He just watched me, something raw and patient in his eyes.
“I’ll wait for you,” he said quietly. “As long as it takes.”
The words landed deep, somewhere I wasn’t ready to face.
I dressed quickly in my running gear, hands shaking, and slipped out the back door. The forest waited at the edge of the property, dark and familiar. My feet carried me toward it before I’d fully decided.