Wild Homecoming

by Liza Street

  He picked up the rest of the opossum and made quick work of taking it to the woods. He scooped out a shallow grave with his boots and dropped the carcass inside. He hoped the poor creature hadn’t been killed for the purpose of scaring Summer and that it had been instead found on the side of the road, but either way, it hadn’t deserved to die.

  Jackson returned to the porch to collect the dead roses, which he tossed into the compost bin behind Summer’s cottage. He used the hose by the side garden to wash off the porch as quietly as possible, rubbing the wood with his boots. Then he washed his hands, scrubbing them long after the scent of the opossum disappeared.

  Afterward, he fished his phone out of his pocket and texted Hayley. She was a night owl and would probably still be awake. Something weird going on here. I have to stay, see it through. If you guys want to help, I think the territory could be ours again, if we want it. Nobody’s living on our property.

  Hayley: I gotta think about it. You know Will won’t come.

  Jackson: He’s just stubborn, he’ll come around.

  Hayley: Need to think it over.

  Sighing heavily, Jackson typed back, okay, then stripped. Yet again that night, he shifted to his lion form. He picked up his clothes and boots with his mouth, not wanting to leave them or his keys and phone on the ground, and climbed a tree. From here, he’d keep watch over Summer. He might not have been able to protect his family before, but he was going to protect her.

  Even if the danger had come because of him.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  After moving through the work morning in a daze, Summer thought maybe she should skip lunch and take a nap during her break. She’d barely gotten any sleep last night. As soon as sleep would take her, she’d wake up and remember Jackson’s regretful eyes as he walked away. At one point, she thought she heard noises outside, but she’d been too frightened to look, and then the noises had stopped. Nothing had been out of place in the morning except for a dark spot on her front porch. It looked like an old stain worked into the wood, but it hadn’t been there yesterday.

  None of that changed the fact that she’d gotten shitty sleep.

  None of that changed the fact that she’d sent Jackson away. She’d sent off the man she loved. Or…the beast man she loved? The shifter she loved?

  She had to talk to someone. Not Jackson, though. She dialed Becca’s office number.

  “Van Housen’s office,” the receptionist said.

  “Hi, Mark. It’s Summer Grieb. Is Becca around?”

  “Yes, she just finished a meeting,” he said. “I’ll put you through.”

  “Thanks.”

  Summer barely had time to take a breath before Becca was on the line.

  “Is everything okay?” Becca asked.

  “Yeah. I’m fine.”

  “Okay, phew. It’s just you always text instead of calling.”

  “I know.” Summer took a deep breath. “I need to talk. About Jackson. He’s a good man, he’s just…there’s something else about him.”

  Becca didn’t say anything at first. “Is the something else…dangerous?”

  “No,” Summer said, remembering how he’d fought for her the night before. He’d kept her safe. “Thanks for not asking me what it is.”

  “You know I don’t pry,” Becca said. “Does it interfere with his feelings for you, or your feelings for him?”

  Summer thought for a second. “No, it doesn’t interfere with any of that.”

  “Okay,” Becca said. “I have something to tell you, something that I’ve never shared with anyone.”

  Summer waited. She wouldn’t pry, just like Becca hadn’t.

  “Grant liked to wear women’s clothes. Around the house.”

  “Grant, your husband Grant?” Summer asked. He’d died three years before, leaving Becca a young widow.

  “Yes,” Becca said. “I found out after we’d been dating for a year. He said he didn’t want to hide things from me, and that he wanted to stay together. It took me a few weeks to come to grips with it, just because I hadn’t expected it, you know?”

  “I would never have imagined that,” Summer said. Wow, Grant. One of the manliest dudes she’d ever met. Wakeboarding, snowboarding, weight lifting—all the sports that seemed, to her, super masculine.

  “Right?” Becca said. “But in the end, I realized that we can’t always control who the men we love are. We love them. So, if there’s something different about Jackson, can it stop you from loving him?”

  Summer had lain awake last night, thinking of that question over and over, although in slightly different ways. So she already knew the answer. Quietly, she said, “No.”

  “Good,” Becca said. “Then make it work.”

  “I owe you several margaritas,” Summer said.

  Becca laughed. “I will gladly accept them.”

  They ended the call and Summer immediately opened up SocialBook. She selected a selfie she’d taken by the lake a while ago—one that showed her face. She sent it to Jackson with the caption, Thank you for accepting the real me. I’m ready to accept the real you. Thanks for your patience. Come over at seven? Love, Summer.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Jackson stood in front of his old family home—the good side. It was dirty, but at least it was intact. He held his phone out with one arm and pointed it, making sure his face was in the photo, along with the siding and a little bit of forest in the background. He tapped the button, and a new selfie was born.

  He sent the photo to Will and Hayley, and followed it with some text. Cleaning out the old place, gonna rebuild. I wish you two would join me. Then he went around to the front of the house, where he’d been collecting a pile of debris. Maybe the whole structure would have to come down, he didn’t know. He had no idea how much of it would be sound after that fire, and he still hadn’t gone inside. But starting at the front, he’d take away any pieces that had been ruined. Already, he had enough of a pile to fill the back of Will’s Raptor.

  The rental car sat a few yards away, its bright green paint mocking. It probably wouldn’t hold more than a couple of charred beams, and even then, they’d be sticking through the windows. Jackson missed that damn truck.

  He thought of sending another selfie to Summer, to ask what she thought about the property and whether she’d ever want to live on the other side of Huntwood, on the lake side. But she’d just said she was ready to talk. He laughed to himself. Maybe it was a bit presumptuous to ask if she was ready to move in with him. Into a house he hadn’t yet rebuilt.

  At least she wanted to talk. When her message had come in around lunchtime, accompanied by a selfie of her face, he’d whooped with joy, startling the birds and chipmunks nearby.

  He worked a few more hours, clearing debris. There was nothing salvageable in the front of the house, which didn’t surprise him. He was eager to reach the rear of the house to see if anything had been left behind, but if it had waited four years, it could wait a little longer. Besides, he still hoped that at least Hayley would come and check things out with him.

  At six thirty, his phone alarm came on. Time to shower and head over to Summer’s. He drove back to the motel, washed away the soot and dirt and sweat, and dressed in clean clothes. Then he drove to Summer’s. They were going to talk. She was ready to accept the real him, and he just knew that they would finally be together. Maybe they’d live in her cottage until he finished rebuilding the house.

  He turned onto Summer’s street and parked in front of her house. The sun was setting, but Jackson could still see everything around him clearly. It was a beautiful, quiet evening.

  Summer stood on the front porch, watching for him. He waved to her and climbed out of the car, but stopped short at the scent of grizzly. A dark-haired man stood across the street and made eye contact with Jackson. He mouthed something. Jackson squinted, trying to make out the words. The man mouthed them again and pointed to the side of Summer’s house. Watch out.

  That scent—the cologne.
Whipping his head around, Jackson searched for the source.

  A mountain lion crouched, belly down in Summer’s garden. His attention flicked between Summer and Jackson.

  Jackson’s heart sped in his chest.

  “Summer, go inside,” he shouted. “Lock the door.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Please.”

  She must have understood the urgency in his voice, because she turned and ran for the door.

  The lion pounced.

  Jackson didn’t have time to shift. He hurtled himself down the short walkway to Summer’s porch. But there was no way he could reach them in time.

  Summer got inside and tried to close the door, but the lion’s head was in the way. She screamed and Jackson could tell she was struggling. Putting up a good fight. With a running leap, Jackson tackled the lion. He was totally unprotected in his human form, nowhere near a match for a mountain lion. But at least the lion wasn’t going after Summer—that was all that mattered.

  The lion growled and twisted, trying to buck Jackson off his back. Jackson held on and struggled to get his arms wrapped around the beast’s throat.

  The lion was stronger, and Jackson went flying into the wall, his head knocking into the window frame. He fell to the porch. Dazed, he struggled to open his eyes. He needed time to shift into his lion, so it would be a fair fight.

  Growling sounds surrounded Jackson, a herald of death. Jackson pushed himself up to sitting. The mountain lion was close, nearly on top of him. This close, Jackson could smell through the cologne to the real scent of the shifter.

  This mountain lion was Dan Clausen, the Clausen alpha’s son. The Clausens were the evil fuckers who’d driven Jackson’s family from the Dark Pines territory. Dan Clausen and his old man had been behind the pride war from the very beginning. And now, Dan was about to kill Jackson.

  There was nowhere to run, but Jackson struggled to get up.

  The door opened off to the side.

  “Stay away from him.” A woman’s voice—Summer.

  “No, Summer…” Jackson said. He looked over at her. She held a three-hole punch in one hand, and a large kitchen knife in the other.

  The lion turned its attention to her, eyes intent. Summer’s hands shook, but she held her ground.

  The scent of grizzly filled Jackson’s nose. No sooner had he turned to look, than a giant bear raced onto the porch, tackling the mountain lion. They tumbled off the porch and into the garden, the lion yowling.

  Jackson took the opportunity to look at Summer. “Please, I got this,” he said. “At least, I do now. Go back inside. I’ll come get you when it’s over.”

  The door closed behind her, and Jackson stripped out of his clothes and shifted into his mountain lion form. He just had to hope the growing darkness would prevent any neighbors from seeing what was going on. He followed the sounds of the snarling and growling beasts. They rolled around in Summer’s garden, each of them struggling to gain the advantage.

  Jackson waited for an opening, but they were moving too fast, biting and clawing each other. It looked like the grizzly had the advantage, as he raked a giant paw down Dan’s shoulder. Dan leaped away, and the grizzly roared at the lion’s retreating form.

  Jackson watched as the tawny tail disappeared behind the trees.

  The grizzly turned back around, then, facing Jackson. Jackson had so many questions, but he didn’t feel safe yet. Would the grizzly attack him next, or was he an ally?

  Instead of charging Jackson, the grizzly shifted, the air around him shimmering until a naked man stood in front of Jackson. It was the same guy who’d stood across the street when Jackson arrived. Dark hair, brown eyes, faint beard. Jackson nodded at him.

  “I’m Marius,” the guy said. “That was Daniel Clausen, although I think you already know—”

  He stopped as a loud roar sounded behind him. Jackson’s attention flicked back to the mountain lion charging out of the woods, headed straight for Marius. With a leap, Jackson met the lion in mid-air.

  What happened next was so fast, Jackson couldn’t piece it together until after. Jackson hit the lion at just the right angle that he could fit his jaw over the lion’s throat. He sank his teeth in, not to kill, but to assert his dominance. But at the same time, Dan kicked with his powerful hind legs to dislodge Jackson. It shredded Jackson’s vulnerable stomach and pushed Jackson away. Pain. Blinding pain. And blood. Blood in his fur, blood in his mouth.

  Because as Dan had kicked Jackson away, he’d caused Jackson to tear out his throat.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Summer couldn’t breathe. She looked out her window again. There was a dead mountain lion in her yard, and a living one, covered in blood. The living one was Jackson, because she’d watched as he defended the…the big fucking bear man. And he’d nearly died.

  Jackson was on the ground, the stranger standing over him. Summer didn’t know if the guy was friend or foe. She rushed outside, still holding her hole punch. “Get away from him!” she yelled. “Or I will end you.”

  The guy took a step back from Jackson and held up his hands. “I’m not going to hurt him,” he said. “He needs to be wrapped up. He’ll heal on his own, but those are some nasty wounds.”

  Summer looked from Jackson, in his lion form, to the guy. “Who the hell are you?”

  “My name’s Marius. I’d been helping out that guy”—he jerked a thumb at the dead lion—”until I found out what he was really up to. I’m really sorry. I was an idiot, and he tricked me.”

  Summer could tell it pained the guy, Marius, to say all that. She nodded. “Okay. Help me with Jackson.”

  “Let’s get him inside,” Marius said.

  She dropped the hole punch and went to Jackson. “I don’t know…I don’t know where to grab him from.”

  The air around Jackson shimmered slightly, and his form changed before Summer’s eyes. She watched, dumbstruck, as the lion became man. Several long gashes bled on his torso. She couldn’t help but think of all the pain he must be in. He reached out, so she bent to take his hand.

  “Love you, Summer,” he said.

  Tears streamed down her face. “I love you, too.”

  He turned to Marius. “I can get my own damn self inside. Stop coddling me.”

  Marius laughed. “I didn’t want to touch your stinky feline hide, anyway.”

  Summer looked from Marius back to Jackson. “Are you two…friends?”

  Jackson closed his eyes and said, “We are now.”

  After walking close to Jackson’s side as he went into the cottage, a gesture which seemed to annoy the ever-loving shit out of Jackson, Marius said goodbye to them both. “Daniel Clausen was the last of that pride,” he said, tossing Jackson’s jeans and shirt to the foot of the couch. “I don’t have any good excuse for helping him. I’ve got some stuff to work through. But I’ll be in touch…if you meant what you said about being friends.”

  “Meant it,” Jackson gasped from his position on Summer’s couch. She’d put out towels to keep blood from staining her furniture. Even now, the sight of his mangled torso made her feel a bit faint.

  Marius left, closing the door quietly behind him. Summer turned to Jackson and gestured at his wounds. “I don’t even know how to begin.”

  “They’re already knitting together,” he said.

  “How do you know?”

  “I can feel it. Burns like you wouldn’t believe.”

  “Jackson, I’m so sorry. I—”

  “You don’t have anything to apologize for,” he said. “All this terrible stuff that was happening? It was because of me, because I came back here. And the irony is that I wasn’t really coming back for my territory. I came here for you, but I brought all this shifter baggage with me. So I’m sorry. But the worst part is, as long as I knew you’d be safe, I’d do it all over again.”

  She rushed to his side and knelt on the floor next to him. “I’d want you to do it all over again. I don’t want you to go anywhere, Jackson.”


  His eyelids fluttered closed. “Not going anywhere. I’m even building us a house.”

  “What?” she asked, her voice sharp.

  “You can help,” he said. “Just need to rest, first.”

  Summer watched as he fell asleep, his chest steadily rising and falling. She didn’t want to take too close of a look at the gashes on his stomach, so she got comfortable on the floor and leaned back against the sofa, her head next to Jackson’s.

  *

  When Summer woke, she was being carried into her bedroom. Jackson held her, his strong arms supporting her head and legs. She snuggled against his shoulder and pressed a kiss to his throat.

  “You’re awake?” he asked softly, his voice a rumble through her body.

  “Yeah. I am now. What time is it?”

  “It’s a little after midnight. I wanted to bring you to bed. I feel so bad that you fell asleep on the floor while I took the couch.”

  She laughed, trying to be quiet because it was dark. “You were bleeding all over the place. How are you even carrying me right now?”

  “Shifters heal fast,” he said.

  “Show me.”

  “Right now? We’re not even at your bed, yet.”

  “Right now.”

  With a sigh of mock frustration, he set her down so she was standing on the floor. She could see faintly in the moonlight coming through the window in her room. The blood was gone. Summer held out her hands and ran them over his bare stomach. Fresh pink scars tracked over his skin, but the wounds were healed. They looked six weeks old, not six hours.

  “Incredible,” she said.

  “I’ll show you something else incredible if you keep touching me like that,” he said with a playful threat in his voice.

  She smiled up at him in the dark, guessing that he could see her expression clearly. “Promise?”

  He laughed. Instead of waiting for him, though, she reached down and unfastened the buttons on his jeans.

  Jackson sucked in a quick breath.

  “Is this okay?” Summer asked.

  “More than okay.”