by Bru Baker
Drew got up and put a hand against Jackson’s forehead. “You’re not warm. Maybe a little clammy. Do—”
Nick tugged him back to the couch they were sharing across from Jackson. “He’s not sick, Drew.”
Drew narrowed his eyes. “If he’s throwing up—”
“Trust me, this is more my field than yours. And not just because he’s a Were,” Nick said, cutting off Drew’s argument.
“Because it’s psychological. My wolf,” Jackson murmured, closing his eyes. “All I could think about was how this guy wasn’t Harris. And even being there with him felt like a betrayal.”
Drew sat back down, eyes wide. “Well.”
Jackson leaned in, desperate. “Help me understand what’s going on with Harris. I—I’ve never felt like this about anyone. It doesn’t make any sense. I can’t stop thinking about him, and not being with him is physically painful. I’m sleeping like crap, and my concentration is shot. I swear something snapped wide open in me when we kissed, and I can’t put it back in its box, no matter how hard I try.”
“What’s to understand? You find him attractive. He finds you attractive. It’s a tale as old as time.”
Nick snorted out a laugh. “Which one is Belle? Probably Harris. Jackson’s definitely a beast.”
Jackson ignored his brother-in-law and focused on Drew. “I’ve always been attracted to him. Why now, though?”
“Well,” Nick broke in again, a grin spreading across his face, “when a werewolf reaches a certain age, he starts getting tingly feelings in his—”
Drew elbowed him hard, cutting him off with a choke. “Don’t be a dick.”
Nick rubbed his ribs and laughed. “I’m always a dick. It’s why you love me. Listen, Jackson, you’re settling down. It’s natural your wolf would look for a mate.”
Jackson gaped at him. “I’m settling down? Really? I don’t know if I’ve gotten my dream job or not, which, I might add, would require me to move away from my family and join a new Pack. That’s settling down?”
Drew leaned forward and squeezed Jackson’s knee. “Kinda, yeah. I mean, you’re moving from one phase of your life into another. It makes sense. You’re getting more serious about your career and really starting to think about the future. Your instincts are driving you to find someone to share it with.”
Jackson picked at the label on his bottle, unease sitting heavy in his chest. “So, my wolf wants a mate, and what, Harris was convenient? I feel this way about him because he was there? That’s so messed up.”
Drew groaned and buried his head in his hands. “No, dipshit. If it was based on proximity, you’d be mooning over Jordan. You’re not harboring fantasies of sticking your dick in him, are you?”
Jackson recoiled so hard he almost dropped his bottle. Bits of shredded label floated to the floor. He looked up at the ceiling, praying Jordan hadn’t heard that. “Oh my God. Why would you say that?”
“Because it’s just as stupid as you saying you’re falling in love with Harris because he was the nearest warm body. Jesus.” Drew looked up, eyes blazing. “I swear, Jackson—brother or not, if you fuck him up we’ll have words. I mean it. He has been in love with you for years, and I’m not going to let you hurt him. He’s a good guy, Jackie, and he deserves a hell of a lot more than that.”
The way Drew growled his childhood nickname made Jackson bristle more than the threat. Drew was the nice one—Jackson had never heard him sound so disappointed and angry.
“I’m not!” He took a breath and put down his bottle, leaning in so he was eye-level with Drew. His skin was itching with the need to shift and run. “I wouldn’t. I’m just freaking out, Drew.” His stepbrother’s words finally sank in, and Jackson lost his breath. “Wait.”
“Yes,” Drew said, sounding equal parts exhausted and exasperated. “And I’m not telling you anything more about it because it’s his to tell, but you’re both fucking idiots.”
Harris was in love with him? Jackson didn’t know whether to be thrilled or terrified. He’d thought this was one-sided, and that made it easier to handle. If it was requited—fuck. That was so much harder. It would be easier to walk away from this if Harris wasn’t involved.
Jackson gripped the edges of the chair, his claws threatening to pop as his skin prickled with the need to shift. “I don’t know what to do. Tell me what to do.”
The anger melted out of Drew’s expression, and he reached out to rest a hand along Jackson’s jaw. The warm, familiar touch calmed Jackson, and he closed his eyes as he took in a deep lungful of air, the scent of Pack grounding him.
Drew’s hand fell away after a few seconds, and Jackson opened his eyes to find Drew and Nick looking at each other with dopey expressions. Their arousal and contentment clouded the air, making Jackson wrinkle his nose.
“How can you two flirt when my life is falling apart?”
“Because it’s romantic,” Nick said, his gaze moving over to Jackson.
Drew’s followed a split second later, looking so lovestruck that Jackson was torn between jealousy and disgust.
“You couldn’t get your head out of your ass until my brother almost died,” Jackson pointed out. “You’re hardly the epitome of romance. You two danced around each other for a ridiculously long time before admitting you had feelings for each other.”
“Sound familiar?” Drew said dryly, drawing a choked laugh out of Nick.
“Fuck off,” Jackson said, throwing a couch cushion at him. He was done talking about this with them. They were no help. “If you fucking shoot Harris to make a point, I’ll gut you.”
Nick’s smile turned feral. “Gotta go through me.”
Jackson scoffed. He held up his hand and shifted a single claw to flip Nick off. “Some challenge.”
Nick and Drew erupted into laughter, and Jackson joined them a second later. It was a relief he still could. He felt lighter than he had in weeks as the three of them laughed so hard tears streamed down their faces.
“I’d forgotten you could do that,” Drew said after they’d settled and reconvened in the kitchen with fresh beer. “God, do you remember that summer you learned? You drove everybody crazy. You were obsessed.”
Jackson’s cheeks ached from laughing, but he smiled anyway at the memory. “Dad can do it, and he said that kind of control over your shift is necessary if you want to be a Second.”
Drew turned to Nick. “He spent hours every day shifting. Mom couldn’t keep enough food in the house. God, I think she went to the store every other day that summer. She was so pissed.”
“How old were you when you learned to do it? That’s some serious control,” Nick said. “I didn’t even know that was possible.”
“He was just a few months past the Turn.”
Something inside Jackson preened at the pride in Drew’s voice. He shrugged it off. “It’s a skill I needed, so I acquired it.”
“And that’s why he’s in the running for East Coast Tribunal Enforcer,” Drew said, slapping Jackson on the back. “And also why he’s never had a serious relationship, so he’s totally freaked by finding his mate.”
Jackson scowled at him. “I’m not—”
“You so are,” Nick said, nodding.
Jackson sighed but didn’t disagree again. They had a point.
“You need to be having this discussion with Harris,” Drew said.
That was also true. But it wasn’t something he was going to start before dawn. “I know. He’s going to hate me.”
Drew made a sympathetic sound. “He could never hate you. Are you positive you don’t want to pursue the mating bond with him?”
Jackson nodded. “I can’t be bonded to someone and be an Enforcer. It’s a Tribunal law. I can’t.”
His wolf was tearing him up inside, but he ignored it. “I mean, I want to be with him. As boyfriends or whatever. But I can’t mate with him. And I don’t know what he wants, but it wouldn’t be fair to lead him on if he wants a mate.”
Drew nodded, eyes sad
. “Why don’t we all head up to bed? Maybe things will look different in the morning.”
Sleep sounded divine. It wouldn’t make his problems disappear, but at least he’d be thinking clearly. Jackson had slept more than usual over the last week, but it hadn’t put a dent in his exhaustion. He made his way upstairs, resigned to spending the next few hours until sunrise tossing and turning, but as soon as his head hit the pillow he was out.
It seemed like seconds later when he opened his eyes, disoriented. His mind told him he’d just lain down, but the room was flooded with light, and he felt better than he had in days. The quilt on the bed had barely moved—he’d slept like a stone.
He curled up tighter, pulling the quilt up to his ears. His scent mingled with Harris’s on the sheets and his sweats, which explained why he’d conked out so hard.
Jackson took a deep breath and forced himself to toss the quilt back and get out of bed. He brushed his teeth and rubbed at the two days of growth on his face. He could bother Drew for a clean razor, but he kind of liked this. He looked like a harder, more grizzled version of himself. The kind of guy who could look his mate in the face and tell him he couldn’t complete the mating bond with him.
Jackson steeled himself and grabbed his phone off the nightstand. It was best to get this done as soon as possible. Just like ripping off a Band-Aid. His hands were shaking as he composed the text, but he sent it out without letting himself hesitate.
Hey. Can we talk? I haven’t been honest with you. I’m here at camp. I’ll meet you wherever, just tell me when and where.
Chapter Seven
HARRIS stared at his phone, his heart in his throat. Jackson’s text had come through ten minutes ago, and he hadn’t been able to make himself respond.
Jackson wanted to talk. And he was here. Did that mean he wanted to kiss him again? Or maybe it was the opposite. Maybe he’d driven all the way over here to tell Harris they couldn’t be friends.
Sweat prickled across his back as he stared at the phone as if it were a cobra ready to strike. He’d thrown it on the bed after he’d read the message, like Jackson might materialize after he’d opened it.
He needed to get a hold of himself. Jesus.
He had mess duty this morning, and a few sessions this afternoon, but most of his day was free. Harris left the phone on the bed as he finished getting ready, grabbing it as he swept out the door. He was late, and depending on who else drew Sunday morning mess monitoring, he might be in deep shit.
Harris’s stomach swooped as he took out his phone and shot off an answer.
Boathouse at 11? I’ll bring an early lunch for us.
He’d assume good news. That was what all the empowerment gurus said to do, wasn’t it? Visualize the outcome you desire and all that jazz. Harris turned off his phone so he wouldn’t be tempted to check it while he was on duty and pulled open the door of the mess, bracing himself for a tirade if his partner for the morning was Kenya or Richard.
A weight lifted off his shoulders when he saw Kayla hovering over by the waffle bar. She probably hadn’t even noticed he was late, and if she had, she wouldn’t care. She might be the tiniest staff member, but she was by far one of the scariest. He’d seen six-foot wolflings reduced to tears when she marched them out of a room by their ear.
The mess was still deserted, which wasn’t a surprise. Sundays were low-key, a few fitness classes in the afternoon and lots of rec time built in. The mess opened at nine and served brunch until eleven, and wolflings trickled in and out as they woke up for the day. It was a far cry from the usual hectic bustle of mealtime at Camp H.O.W.L., and Harris didn’t know whether to be grateful because it gave him time to think or not. He’d have been better off with a lunch rush where he was too busy breaking up potential food fights and mediating disagreements.
“What’s got you ruffled?” Kayla asked when he joined her in front of the syrups.
“Jackson’s here, and he told me he wanted to talk,” he said, sliding a hand into his pocket to run over the hard edge of his phone.
“Like talk or talk,” she said, doing something with her eyebrows that made Harris wince and take a step away. “Everybody knows you two are one smoldering look away from boning. The UST was actually painful while he was here a few weeks ago.”
“Can you speak English instead of Tumblr for once? What the hell is UST?”
Kayla laughed. “Unresolved sexual tension. And you two have it in spades. Plus your boy has no game.”
That wasn’t true. He’d watched Jackson charm countless guys in clubs. He had game; he just didn’t use it with Harris. Was that a good thing or not?
“I don’t know. I’m hoping it means he’s interested, but who knows. I mean, we’ve known each other for how long, and he’s never once looked my way. Why now?”
She shrugged and put the top on a syrup bottle. “He could say the same thing about you, couldn’t he?”
That was true. Was it possible Jackson had been harboring feelings for him all this time and hadn’t said anything? He’d always smelled of lust when they were together, but that was Jackson. He’d never given the slightest indication it was anything other than appreciation for a fit male specimen. Harris wasn’t going to pretend modesty here. He was in top shape and took care of himself. He was a catch.
Kayla dashed away to stop two wolflings from coming to blows over whether or not ketchup belonged on eggs, and Harris walked an aimless trail through the mess, weaving in and out of tables and keeping an eye out for shenanigans. Sundays were the only days the wolflings were allowed to sleep in, so most of the troublemakers weren’t up yet. He stopped by Candice’s table, pleased to see her eating with Emma and a few other wolflings.
The two weeks she’d spent here already had done wonders for her. She looked healthier, her color was great, and best of all, she was smiling and eating without hesitation. She looked like any other wolfling. It was a far cry from the way she’d picked at her food when she’d arrived, scared of putting on weight.
He pulled a chair out and spun it around, sitting in it backward so he could lean in toward the table. “What are you guys up to today?”
Emma lit up. “We’re going to swim out to the floating dock after classes this morning. Hannah said she heard there were selkies in the lake, so we’re going to see if any of them come out.”
There weren’t any selkies in the lake. A naiad dropped in every month or two to check on the quality of the water and the health of the fish, but that was the only supernatural creature that had ever set foot—or fin—in it aside from Weres here at the camp. The camp’s borders were off-limits. No one entered their territory without permission. The naiads and dryads always called ahead first, and the fae gave the camp a wide berth. It had been years since the camp had any trouble.
“Sounds fun,” he said, sharing a grin with Kayla, who was across the room. “Don’t forget we’ve got a midnight hike coming up this week and the tracking challenge too. You might want to go for a run and try to test your noses after your swim.”
They nodded excitedly, all five of them chattering about things they’d heard about the special activities. Wolflings who’d had older siblings at the camp often came already expecting the late-night activities and special challenges, and those who didn’t found out about them within the first week. “Keep that to yourselves,” he added quietly, tapping his lips with his finger.
Anyone in the mess could easily hear him, which was another reason counselors gave out hints about upcoming activities like this. It taught the wolflings to always be aware of their surroundings.
Candice looked up at him, a wide smile splitting her face. “Can you give me some advice about the tracking challenge during my session today? Our cabin wants to be ready. The boys in cabin three have been trash-talking and saying they’ve got it all wrapped up, and we want to teach them a lesson.”
He winked. “We’ll see.”
She’d made big strides in therapy too. Her body had been racked by the Turn
longer than the other wolflings in her group, but she’d borne it in silence, not looking to the others for support. When the rest of the wolflings had curled into a big pile and napped, she’d paced the room, eyes wide and heart racing. It made his heart happy to see her thick as thieves with the other girls and not backing down from a challenge from another cabin.
More kids trickled into the mess, and he got up and made his rounds again, chatting with other wolflings and offering stern rebukes when things started to get out of hand or pampered wolflings left a mess. Everyone pitched in to clear trays, no matter how wealthy or important their families were. This far into the month, it only took a few sharp words to rectify most problems.
When things were winding down toward the end of brunch, he snuck back to the kitchen and asked Frank to make him a picnic lunch for two.
“You’ve got to give me more,” the chef said, hands on his hips. “Are we talking PowerBars in a rucksack? Cheese and crackers? Strawberries and wine?”
Harris flushed.
“Ah, it’s that kind of picnic. Say no more. I’ll have it ready for you as soon as brunch service is over.”
“No wine,” Harris said quickly. “Maybe something between sandwiches and strawberries? Easy to eat, not too messy, but not too sexy either.”
Frank grinned. “I got you.”
Harris wasn’t sure he did, but he left the kitchen anyway to check in with the stragglers and hurry them along, since brunch was almost over.
By the time he’d cleared the mess and made it back to the kitchen, Frank had a wicker picnic basket waiting on the counter. Harris tried to peek inside, but Frank batted his hands away. “Don’t mess up my presentation. Just take it.”
Harris rolled his eyes but took the basket. “Thanks, Frank.”
“Thank me afterward,” Frank said, making Harris’s cheeks heat again. He headed for the back door. “Don’t forget to take a blanket! Something thick and luxe.”
Harris saluted over his shoulder. He had a cashmere throw he’d gotten as a gift from a grateful wolfling’s family last year. He’d flown across the country with them when the wolfling had to leave camp, and he’d spent several days at their Pack compound helping the kid adjust to being home. The blanket was probably worth more than everything else in his cabin, but he never used it. He’d feel ridiculous with something that expensive on his bed. It would be perfect for this, though.