Chapter 43 Home #2
For a split second surprise flashed across Lia’s face. Then she smiled. “See? I knew she’d understand.”
Jackson’s hand tightened slightly on my back. “Actually, I’m sitting this one out.”
Lia’s smile faltered. “What? Why? It’s our tradition.”
“I know,” he said calmly. “But I don’t want to be away from Harper for a whole day. Not right now.”
“You can’t spend one day apart?”
“Nope.”
Lia’s expression tightened, just for a moment. Then she pulled the sweetness back up, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“Of course.” The words came out quiet. “You have your mate now.”
Something uncomfortable settled over the group. Thankfully Rick cut through it.
“Man’s been glued to Harper since they mated. Three days locked in an apartment will do that to you.”
Jason snorted. “He’s officially whipped. We’re never getting the old Jackson back.”
“When talking about apartments, I’m moving the rest of my stuff into the apartment tonight. You two still in?” Jackson asked.
Rick grinned. “For you? Always.”
Jason nodded. “Yeah. We’ll help.”
Later that afternoon, after track practice, I stepped out of the athletics center freshly showered, hair still damp. The air outside was cooler than it had been earlier.
Lia was waiting for me near the side exit, alone. She straightened the second she saw me and didn’t waste time on pleasantries.
“You really couldn’t let him have even this one thing, could you?” Her voice was low and sharp. “The Harvest Hunt. One weekend. One tradition that’s been ours since we were kids. But you just had to ruin that too.”
I raised an eyebrow, but stayed quiet.
She laughed once without humor.
“You’ve known him for what, a few weeks? And suddenly everything revolves around you.” She folded her arms tightly across her chest. “He leaves training early to walk you home. He eats lunch with you every day. He barely spends time with the rest of us anymore.”
"I wasn't aware he needed your permission."
"That's not what this is."
"No?"
"No." Her jaw tightened. "You don't understand what you're taking away."
"I didn't take anything."
"You did." Her voice cracked for the first time. "You took my best friend."
I opened my mouth, but footsteps echoed around the corner. Jackson rounded it a second later, eyes narrowing as he took in the scene. Through the bond I felt a low pulse of anger rolling off him. He had heard every word.
Lia’s expression smoothed instantly into something sweet and composed, but it was too late.
Jackson’s jaw tightened. “You’ve been doing this to her the whole time,” he said, voice low and disappointed. “And I didn’t see it.”
Lia’s eyes widened. “Jackson, wait. This isn’t what it looks like. I was just—”
“No.” He cut her off, stepping between us. “I thought you were just adjusting. But this?” He shook his head. “I’m done making excuses for you.”
Lia’s face crumpled. “Please, Jackson. You know me. I’ve been here for you for years. She’s twisting things. She doesn’t belong here. She’s going to ruin everything between us.”
“She’s my mate,” he said.
Lia’s voice cracked. “You don’t understand. I’ve known you my whole life. We—”
“Stop.” His tone was final. “Harper is not going anywhere. And if you can’t accept that, then you and I have nothing left to say.”
Lia opened her mouth, then closed it. She looked genuinely devastated.
I stayed quiet through all of it. There was nothing left to say.
Jackson pulled me closer, pressing a kiss to my temple.
“Come on. Let’s go home.”
We walked away together, his fingers threaded through mine, leaving Lia standing alone in the hallway.
Through the bond I felt it — a dull, heavy ache. He was hurting. Not angry. Just… sad.
I squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry.”
Jackson stopped walking and turned me to face him. His free hand came up to cup my cheek, thumb brushing gently across my skin.
“Don’t be sorry,” he said. “I’m not. You’re my mate. That choice was never hard.” He leaned down and pressed his forehead to mine. “I’m sorry I didn’t see it sooner. I should have protected you from that.”
I closed my eyes and let myself lean into him.
The guys spent the rest of Wednesday moving Jackson’s things in. By Thursday afternoon the place was ready enough for round two — my things and, most importantly, Artemis.
Getting him into the carrier was its own battle. Artemis hated it with a fiery passion. He yowled the entire drive like we were trafficking him across state lines.
The second Jackson opened the carrier in the new living room, he shot out like a gray missile and vanished under the couch.
Rick and Jason trudged up the stairs with my remaining boxes, loudly complaining about how underappreciated they were.
While they hauled everything inside, Artemis finally emerged and began his inspection.
He moved from room to room, knocked one object off every flat surface he passed, then strutted straight to the bed and planted himself in the exact middle.
The expensive cat beds we had bought him were ignored with pure contempt.
By the time the last box was set down, the place finally looked lived-in. Litter box in the corner. Food bowls. Two scratch posts, one tall enough to satisfy even my drama-queen cat. Toys scattered everywhere.
Rick wiped sweat from his brow, looked around, and grinned. “Look at that. He’s a cat-dad now.”
Jason snorted. “He’s two cats deep, actually.”
Jackson didn’t respond. Through the bond I felt his wolf grumbling, distinctly unimpressed with how much attention the small gray overlord was receiving.
“Place looks good,” Rick said. “Lia would've—”
He stopped.
Jason found something interesting to do with the box flap.
Jackson said nothing. Instead, he crossed to where I was sitting on the arm of the couch, slid a hand along the back of my neck, and bent to press a kiss into my hair.
“Beer’s in the fridge,” he said. “Help yourselves.”
Rick took the out. “Sold.” He clapped Jason on the shoulder and they headed for the kitchen without another word.
I leaned into Jackson’s hand. He didn’t say anything. Neither did I.
Later that night, after the second round left us both breathing hard, Jackson got up and rummaged through the top dresser drawer. A moment later he returned to the mattress with something clenched in his fist. I sat up, curiosity cutting through the lingering haze of post-orgasm bliss.
He sank to one knee in front of me and extended his palm. My pulse jumped.
“Give me your hand.”
I scooted to the edge of the mattress and placed my fingers in his palm. My breath caught as he slid a delicate bracelet onto my left wrist.
It was beautiful — an intricate weave of small silver discs linked by thin strands of specialized elastic. Shifter jewelry, designed to shift with its wearer, adapting from human to animal form and back again without breaking. The filigree caught the dim light and shimmered softly against my skin.
My throat tightened. I had seen these before. My parents had worn matching ones. A mating bracelet, the shifter version of a wedding ring. A symbol of the bond.
Jackson lifted my hand to his lips and pressed a lingering kiss to the inside of my wrist, right over the cool metal.
“Now you,” he murmured, placing a larger, heavier bracelet in my palm.
I traced my fingers over the links, a slow smile spreading across my face.
“I get to tag you as mine?”
His lips twitched. “Of course.”
I slid the band onto his wrist. The silver stood out against his tanned skin as though it had always belonged there.
Jackson curled his fingers around mine, his expression softening in a way I rarely saw. “I love you, baby.”
The words settled deep in my chest, warm and certain.
“And I love you,” I whispered back.
For a moment, it felt like we’d built something safe.
I didn’t realize how fast it was about to break.