by Bru Baker
“And my dick,” Jackson murmured with a scowl.
“That too,” Jordan said, his voice thick with laughter. “I mean, if that’s the only part of you that’s driving this—”
“It’s not.”
“I didn’t think so. If that were the case you wouldn’t be smelling his tea in the middle of the night.”
“I’ve been denying it, but I’m nesting.” The words hung heavy, weighing against his chest like an anvil.
Jordan made a sympathetic sound. “You know what that means.”
“I see him as a potential mate. But I don’t want a mate. I’m not ready for one. I have so much more I need to accomplish before I’m ready to settle down.”
“So here we are.”
“Here we are,” Jackson agreed. He gulped down the rest of his whiskey. “Don’t tell him about the tea.”
Chapter Three
“HE hasn’t talked to you about what’s bothering him?”
Drew took the top sheet from the pile of linens in Harris’s arms and snapped it over the bed. Even the bottom sheets in Drew’s linen closet were expertly folded. The man was clearly a laundry ninja. Harris would have to ask him for tips.
“No, but he’s still waiting to hear on that job. That’s got to be nerve-racking.”
Harris put down his bundle of blankets and towels on a nearby chair and helped Drew tuck the corners of the sheet in. He hadn’t helped prepare Jordan’s room, aside from holding the stuff, but he liked the idea of his scent on Jackson’s sheets. Making up his bed was domestic and made Harris’s inner wolf purr with contentment.
“Totally. But you didn’t see him, Drew. He was so distracted. He let that basketball hit him. I don’t think he saw it coming at all. It was bizarre.”
Drew snickered. “I wish I’d seen it. It was funny enough hearing about the aftermath, though. It’s probably a good thing he’s going to be here instead of patrolling if he’s that out of it. Remind me to write him a note releasing him for duty when they leave.”
“If he’s doing better,” Harris said as he smoothed wrinkles out of the quilt. “I don’t want him out there in the line of duty if he’s still so distracted.”
“He’ll hear from the Tribunal soon. But yeah, I agree. We’ll see how it goes.”
Harris resisted the urge to rub his face over the pillow as he tucked it into a case, but he rubbed his wrist across the breadth of it. There was no way Jackson wouldn’t notice his scent on it, but it wasn’t so heavy it couldn’t have been from making the bed. Stealth scent marking was a skill he’d been perfecting since he’d figured out Jackson was his mate two years ago.
Harris took the pile of towels on the chair into the guest suite bathroom and hung them on the rack. Jackson always stayed in this room when he visited, and Drew always let Harris help him make the bed and get things in order. He knew Harris had a major crush on his stepbrother, but Harris had never told him the extent of it. Only Adrian and Tate knew the whole story, and Harris intended to keep it that way. He didn’t want to see sympathy—or worse, pity—on Drew’s face every time he looked at him, or risk making things weird between them. It wouldn’t be fair to make Drew feel like he had to be disloyal to his own brother by keeping secrets.
Harris spent a few minutes tidying up the bathroom, putting the toiletries Jackson kept at the house for his visits out on the counter and wiping at a smudge on the mirror. He didn’t take this many pains in his own bathroom, but this was one of the rare opportunities he had to take care of his mate, so he indulged himself.
“You want tea before the meeting?” Drew called from the bedroom.
“Yeah, and maybe a bagel or something. I’m starving.”
The usual Monday morning staff breakfast had been canceled to make time for Fang and Fury’s presentation about the new security procedures. No one was happy about missing out on pancakes, but the kitchen had promised a nice continental breakfast buffet to make up for it. Food would be arriving soon.
Harris had already been for a run before he wandered over to the infirmary to help Drew set up for the meeting and make up rooms for Jackson and Jordan. He’d woken up at five after a night of unsettling dreams.
He’d regret that tonight when he fell asleep over his reports, but he’d been too anxious to try to fight the insomnia. The prospect of having Jackson on campus all week should’ve been exciting, but the butterflies in his stomach were more worried than happy.
Drew had a cup of tea steeping on the counter by the time Harris made it down to the kitchen. He was tucking his phone back in his pocket.
“Jackson says they’re about twenty minutes out. Breakfast was delivered, so I’m going to get that set up.”
It stung that Jackson hadn’t called him, but he understood. Drew was his brother, and that trumped best friend. Though usually he sent a group text.
Harris followed Drew to the kitchen, where big platters of danishes, fruit, and other treats were sitting. He picked up the large urn of coffee as Drew reached for it, earning himself a glare.
“Before you say anything, I didn’t take this because you’re a fragile human.”
Drew reached for a platter of bagels, cream cheese, and lox. Harris waited until he was already walking before adding, “I took it because you’re clumsy as fuck, and I need this coffee to keep me going.”
Drew tossed half a bagel over his shoulder at him, and it plopped to the ground a few feet shy of its target.
“I’m not clumsy. The floor is warped here. You could trip too, asshole.”
Harris very much doubted that, unless Jackson was nearby.
BY the time everyone had finished breakfast and Jackson and Jordan had given their overview of the security changes, Harris was ready to jump out of his skin. Jackson looked cool and confident as he laid out the new procedures, but his heart was going wild and his scent was laced with the sour tang of anxiety and panic.
Anyone who didn’t know him intimately would write it off as stage fright from speaking to a large group, but Jackson loved things like this. He normally radiated authority and calm—it was what was going to make him a kick-ass Second someday. Harris had no idea what was going on with him.
“He’s twitchy,” Drew murmured when they broke for more coffee. Jackson was handing out individual schedules for the new security rounds they’d start when Candice arrived. Everyone would patrol in pairs, and the routes and times would change every day. It was a big departure from how they usually did things.
“I told you,” Harris answered. He pulled Drew into the hallway, not letting go until they reached the relative privacy of the kitchen. The rumble of a dozen different conversations in the other room would mask theirs. “He was like this all day yesterday too. Before getting hit in the head. Do you still think this is just stress?”
Drew’s brow furrowed. “I don’t know. Maybe? I’ll talk to him.”
Relief trickled through Harris. Something was wrong with his mate, and he wouldn’t rest until he found out what it was and fixed it. Having Drew on board made that a lot easier.
“YOU can’t just trade security detail times.”
Harris rolled his eyes at Jackson’s back as he followed him down the trail Jordan had carved out earlier in the week. He and Jackson had been at Camp H.O.W.L. for three days, working from sunup to sundown laying these routes for the new patrols. The trails relied more on scent than anything—the actual path was only a few inches wide. Just enough to cut through the brush to help guide them in the beginning. Eventually, the woods would retake the trail, but by then their scent would saturate the trees and ground. The idea was to make these patrol routes invisible to humans, since odds were good it would be a human who tried to break in.
“I haven’t seen you all week. You’re not even taking meals in the mess. I had to resort to some middle-school bullshit to get you alone.” Harris didn’t even try to disguise the anger in his tone.
“The security details are set up to pair you with someone who is strong i
n your weak areas. Jordan and I put a lot of work into matching people up, and you’ve got to start patrolling with your partner to get a routine going.”
Harris knew that. But he was paired with Luke, the camp’s agility instructor, and the two of them already had a good relationship. Harris was a better tracker and had better control over his wolf, but Luke was flexible as fuck and fast. Incredibly fast. There was no question about how they’d patrol together. Luke would take the outer path and sprint, and Harris would shift and follow the interweaving inside paths as a wolf. They’d have the benefit of Harris’s keen hearing and sense of smell paired with Luke’s ability to cover more ground and his eyesight, which could pick out more detail than a wolf could in shifted form.
“I’ll put in some extra time with him tomorrow,” Harris said. “Besides, Jordan is wiped. He literally fell asleep at dinner tonight. He needed a break.” So do you, Harris thought, but he knew better than to start a fight over Jackson’s work ethic. He gave 110 percent of himself to every job. It was a huge part of who Jackson was, and Harris couldn’t imagine him any other way.
Jackson stopped and turned around. It was the closest they’d been all week, and up close the bags under his eyes and the waxy pallor of his skin became obvious. Jackson was running on fumes.
“Hey,” Harris said, reaching out and squeezing Jackson’s shoulder. “I’m sure Anne Marie appreciates how much work you’re putting in, but you’ve got to take care of yourself. You should head back to Drew’s and get some sleep. I’ll cover the patrol.”
He’d spent days trying to get Jackson alone, and now he was pushing him away. But Harris’s instincts were telling him he needed to take care of his mate, and that trumped his desire to get answers about Jackson’s weird behavior.
“Protocol is no one patrols alone,” Jackson mumbled. His eyes were glassy and unfocused, and he looked like he was about to fall asleep right where he stood.
“The new security rules aren’t actually in effect until Monday. Go to bed, Jackson.”
Jackson swayed and then blinked hard, shaking his head. “I don’t want to leave you out here alone.”
What was there to be afraid of? Harris was the biggest predator out there. Or at least he would be as soon as he got Jackson to bed. “I’ll be fine.”
Jackson bit his lip, and Harris’s libido went from zero to sixty. He swallowed hard and forced his gaze up to Jackson’s red-rimmed, exhausted eyes. Nothing sexy there.
“I miss you,” Jackson blurted out, the words slurred.
Was it possible to get drunk from exhaustion?
“I miss you too, man. You’ve been really busy this week. C’mon. Let’s get you to Drew’s before you pass out.”
Jackson leaned into him, and Harris wrapped an arm around his waist. He started walking back the way they’d come, relieved when Jackson stumbled along with him.
“I’m not, you know,” Jackson muttered.
Harris huffed out a laugh. “Not what? C’mon, you’re dead on your feet.”
“Busy,” Jackson said. “I’m not that busy. It hurts to be around you. I want to be with you all the time, but I’m so mad at you.”
Harris tripped over a tree root and had to tighten his hold on Jackson to keep himself from going sprawling. He’d known Jackson was avoiding him, but he hadn’t realized Jackson was actually mad at him. Harris scoured his mind for anything he might have done to upset Jackson this much. His heart sat heavy in his chest at the thought of hurting his mate.
He wondered if Jackson would even remember telling him that tomorrow. Harris wanted to press for more details, but he didn’t want to take advantage of Jackson’s loose tongue. When they were within sight of the infirmary, Harris called out softly for Nick. It probably woke Jordan too, but the fucker deserved it for not taking better care of Jackson.
Nick was waiting on the porch by the time they stumbled up to the house. He rushed forward to help Harris get Jackson up the stairs.
“What happened? Do I need to get Drew?”
“He’s just exhausted. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with him that a good solid eight hours of sleep won’t cure.”
And maybe a meal or two. Jackson was a little gaunt.
There was no way they’d all make it up the stairs together, so Harris dropped back and let Nick pick Jackson up. Any other time the sight of Jackson being carried up a flight of stairs bridal style would have made him laugh, but the knowledge that Jackson would rather work himself to collapse than talk to Harris about what was bothering him made his stomach turn.
Had Jackson found out about the mate bond? That was the only thing that made any sense. Jackson had no reason to be angry with him—except for the huge secret Harris was keeping from him. He wanted to preserve their friendship, and telling your best friend they’re your mate wasn’t conducive to that. What if Jackson found out about the mate bond? What if he thought Harris was some kind of lovesick stalker who was just pretending to be his friend to get close to him?
“Tell Harry to go home,” he heard Jackson whisper after Nick had gotten him to the guest room.
Harris’s stomach sank.
“I’m going to finish the patrol,” Harris answered.
“Never does what I want him to.”
He heard a bitten off laugh that was probably Nick.
“No,” Nick said solemnly. He closed the guest room door and appeared at the top of the stairs, giving Harris a long, pitying look. “I bet he doesn’t.”
“I’ll check on him tomorrow, unless you think—”
“I think he’s out of his mind with exhaustion and dealing with some personal things. He’s not really mad at you, Harris. You don’t have to worry.”
“YOU’VE got the new security beacon?”
Harris held up the beacon. Jordan had ordered them a new set. The permanent beacons were keyed to a fingerprint. They used to keep them in the camp cars, but now they were on keychains. Easier to lose, but they wouldn’t work for anyone but the owner of the beacon.
Anne Marie opened her mouth again, and Harris dug in his pocket and pulled out the laminated badge that had come in the same box as the beacons. It had an empty slot in the back that would fit a chip Candice carried to confirm Harris’s identity. He was told it was standard protocol when dealing with the rich and easily kidnappable.
Harris bit back a chuckle when Anne Marie snapped her mouth shut. He’d never seen her so on edge about a camper’s arrival before, and they’d had a Saudi prince here a few months ago.
“I have her itinerary and private number. I have the badge and the beacon, and I’m taking the nicest SUV we have, which also happens to be the one with the darkest tint on the windows. We’ll be back here by noon tomorrow.”
She squeezed his shoulder and offered him a sharp smile. “Don’t fuck this up. Text when she’s off the plane and in your SUV. Make sure she follows the protocol Jordan gave her.”
Harris resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Will do. Trust me, I’ve got this, boss.”
Anne Marie swatted at him and stalked off to terrorize some other staffer. Harris had already stashed his duffel in the SUV and checked out the keys, so he made his way down to the garage.
Harris wasn’t worried about picking Candice up from the airport. It was spending the night at Jackson’s that had his stomach tied up in knots.
They hadn’t spoken since Harris had dragged him back to Drew’s two nights ago. Jackson had left the next day.
It was killing Harris not to pick up the phone to call him, but the ball was in Jackson’s court.
It didn’t stop him from texting Jordan obsessively, but Jordan was uncharacteristically mum on the topic. He did tell Harris he had no idea why Jackson was mad.
Drew hadn’t been any help either. He’d assured Harris that Jackson was physically fine, but he wouldn’t weigh in on what was bothering him. He’d told Harris to leave it alone for a bit and let Jackson come to him.
Assuming Jackson ever spoke to him aga
in.
This morning, Jordan had texted to confirm Harris was still planning to head over to Lexington for dinner and spend the night. Usually Jackson would be the one to do that. Harris was half-tempted to get a hotel out of spite, but that would complicate Candice’s pickup more than it already was. Jordan and Jackson needed to accompany him to the airport as Candice’s security detail, so no matter how much he wanted to be petty, it wasn’t worth it.
He pulled out his phone and texted Jordan.
Hitting the road early. Will be in Lexington around 4, k?
He could find someplace to kill time if they weren’t ready for him that early. Jackson’s shifts at the station were all over the place, but Jordan was usually around. He operated Fang and Fury from the third bedroom in their apartment.
His phone dinged as soon as he’d cleared the gate on the drive out.
NP, I’m out at a job site but Jackson’s working nights and will be home sleeping. Door’s unlocked, just let yourself in.
Maybe that was why Jackson hadn’t called. He hated working night shifts because he spent his time on stakeouts or filling in for beat cops. If he’d been sleeping when Harris texted during the day, he was probably annoyed with Harris for waking him.
He’d assumed they’d go out for dinner tonight, but if Jackson had to head in to work, he wouldn’t be able to go with them. Harris could stop at a grocery store and get something to make for dinner—he’d be there early enough to have it done before Jackson had to leave. It could be an apology for whatever the hell he’d done to make his mate so miserable.
Harris huffed out a laugh. God, he was so gone over Jackson. They weren’t even in a relationship, and he was cooking him apology meals after an imaginary fight.
He was dialing Tate before he even thought about it. Harris was way overdue for a visit to New York.
Tate picked up on the fourth ring, just before Harris hung up.
“Harris, hey,” he said, out of breath.