Chapter Seventeen

 

 

IN EARLY January, it got to the point where neither Jackson’s parents nor siblings would put up with him moping around on the couch any longer, and he was unceremoniously kicked out of the house and told to go back to work.

“Rude,” he muttered as Valerie “helped” by packing his stuff into his duffel bag.

It had been a good break. His mother’s cooking and the familiar sniping from Valerie and Brandon had reminded Jackson what normal felt like, and for the first time in a long time, he felt like he was starting to settle back into his old once-familiar sense of self.

“Come run with us tonight,” Valerie said as she dumped a bag of Jackson’s stuff near the front door. “Me and Brandon are going out for a few hours.”

Jackson raised an eyebrow at her. “It’s not the full moon for a few more days.”

She huffed at him. “I know that. Brandon will be gone by then, though, and we haven’t been for a run all together in ages. Come on.”

“Fine.”

Jackson only agreed because he knew Valerie wouldn’t stop whining until he gave in. It wasn’t that he didn’t like spending time with his siblings—he did, in small doses—he’d just gotten used to being by himself when he shifted. He was far more comfortable being on his own in his wolf form.

Their parents politely declined Valerie’s offer to join them, probably sensing that it would be good for the three of them to get out together. Jackson was tempted to drive out to Nine Mile Falls and the huge conservation area he had there, but it really was a pain to get to, especially when they would only be out for a few hours.

The dedicated wolf sanctuary space in the city sucked. Jackson had only realized how much it sucked when he’d discovered there was so much more space—better space—outside of the city.

It was a problem all urban wolves faced and an issue urban developers had been wrestling with for generations. Jackson couldn’t imagine what it was like for wolves who lived in huge cities like New York or London; there just wasn’t room for them all to safely shift and run every full moon. It meant people ended up staying in their apartments and trying to sleep through it, or taking suppressants that meant they could ignore the pull of the full moon, neither of which was good for physical or mental health.

In Spokane, the huge park downtown was reserved for werewolves from 11:00 p.m. to sunrise. Humans knew they had to be out of the area during that time or risk running into a shifted wolf. It was better for wolves to be contained in one space rather than running the streets, even if the antiwerewolf protesters didn’t want the safe spaces in their neighborhoods.

Brandon drove them down to the park in Jackson’s truck, making it to the parking lot just after 11:00 p.m. There was a small hut set to one side of the lot where any werewolves who wanted to run could strip out of their clothes and stow them in a locker before shifting. It was a public park, after all, and even when it was closed to humans, no one wanted naked people running around.

Growing up in a family of born werewolves meant Jackson had seen his siblings bare-ass naked more than he ever wanted to contemplate. Then again, it wasn’t really a big deal. He managed to get ready first and closed his eyes, ignoring the world around him and taking a deep breath to find that place inside himself that triggered the shift.

A moment later he landed on all four paws and shook off the residual discomfort that always accompanied a shift. The area around the hut smelled like all the other wolves who used the park and were discourteous enough to scent-mark the area. It was a shared space—that was just rude.

Jackson jogged off into the park and waited for the inevitable.

His brother and sister pounced on him after only a minute or two.

He grumbled, shaking them off and snapping at Valerie, who was definitely the instigator. She always was.

They fell into a loose V formation, Jackson taking the lead and his siblings falling just behind him. Knowing they were in a safe space wasn’t enough; at least until they’d checked it out, Jackson would act as protector.

It was another week or so until the full moon, so the park wasn’t as busy as it might have been. Jackson mostly stayed clear of the other groups taking advantage of the park; he didn’t want to get into a dispute over perceived territory or a pissing match over who was bigger and stronger. His wariness of other shifted wolves was one of the main reasons he preferred his own space out at Nine Mile Falls—he could never be absolutely sure who he’d run into in the city.

They stayed out until the early hours of the morning, appreciating the cool, crisp air of predawn before stumbling back to the car and home. Jackson was pretty sure Valerie and Brandon would sleep in the same room, like they did when they were kids, but he wanted to close the door and sleep off his bone-deep exhaustion alone.

At least the exhaustion was a nice change from the misery that had been haunting him for weeks.

By midday the next day, he was ready to go home.

His mom had already packed up boxes of leftovers that she’d portioned out for him, dinners and lunches sorted for weeks ahead, if he rationed it properly. In the days after Christmas, she’d holed herself up in the kitchen and cooked relentlessly, even though Jackson reminded her he’d been living on his own for the past ten years and could definitely feed himself. It didn’t make any difference. Having all her babies home had done something to their mom, reinvigorating the need to provide, maybe.

A thick blanket of snow had fallen over Washington in the past week, turning the outskirts of Spokane into a winter wonderland. Jackson slowed the truck instinctively as he headed home. He’d seen far too many wrecks on this stretch of highway in the past few years, and he had no intention of becoming the next victim.

As he approached the top of the long drive that led down to his house, he noticed the flashing lights. Curiosity gripped him first. Another accident? Then growing fear. That was his house.

He pulled in and parked up next to a police cruiser.

“Move along,” the office called out to him.

“I live here,” Jackson said. “This is my place.”

“Mr. Lewis?”

“Yeah.”

The officer stepped out of the cruiser. He was a tall, broad African American guy with friendly, concerned eyes.

“You better come with me.”

 

 

LATER, JACKSON would realize how much time he’d lost in the panicked daze of grief. He’d sent jumbled text messages to over half the entries in his phone book, forgetting important people while somehow deciding Jeff from his old fraternity needed an update.

His family arrived far quicker than should have been possible, and took over the job of gently coaxing Jackson into talking to the police.

When Leo turned up, Jackson was sitting on the front porch of the house with his head in his hands.

“What’s wrong?” Leo asked, rushing up. “They almost didn’t let me through. What’s wrong?”

He looked good, Jackson thought absently. It had been over a month, and Leo looked good. He’d cut his hair and Jackson itched to run his fingers through it.

“There was a fire in the brewery,” Jackson said. His voice sounded hollow even to his own ears. “It destroyed everything.”

“It… what? What?”

Leo leaned in and gently took Jackson’s face in his hands, tipping Jackson’s face up to look at him properly. He rubbed his thumbs back and forth across Jackson’s cheeks, gently gathering unshed tears.

“There was a fire in the brewery,” Jackson repeated. “Police aren’t sure when it started. A cruiser noticed the smoke when they drove past this morning.”

“You have alarms? Security cameras?”

“Yeah, all that’s being checked. The security cameras might not have caught anything, they’re not pointing in the right direction, but there’s a few on the property, so I’m hoping at least one of them got something.”

“I don’t understand. How did it start?”

“I don’t know. They haven’t ruled out arson.”

“Jesus.”

“Yeah.”

Valerie and his mom came out the front door then, possibly drawn by the sound of their conversation. Leo stood quickly and nodded to them.

“Jackson?” his mom said softly.

“This is Leo,” he said dully.

“Mr. Gallagher,” Jackson’s mom said. She sounded surprised.

“Jackson texted me,” Leo said.

“I think we should all come inside,” his mom said. “It’s cold out here.”

Jackson felt like a huge drama queen then, because honestly, he hadn’t noticed.

The officer in the first cruiser had tried to keep Jackson back, away from the house, but he wanted to see. The firefighters from Nine Mile Falls and the next county over had been battling the fire for most of the day, and it was now finally out. The brewery sagged, a steaming hunk of smoldering wood. The air back there smelled like the acrid, charred remains of all of Jackson’s hopes and dreams.

There was nothing left.

While the police and fire investigation teams crawled through the wreck of the brewery to try to find the source of the fire, Jackson was grilled by police to confirm he hadn’t been anywhere near the house in days. He felt guilty for that, like he should have been closer, to protect what was his. If he’d been at home instead of being a lazy slug on his mom’s couch, he might have noticed the fire earlier. They might have been able to save something.

It was all so fucked-up.

For now, Jackson was allowed in his house to make sure nothing had been damaged or stolen, which it didn’t look like it had at the moment—a small mercy. He’d called his insurance company, and they were going to send someone out to help him through all the claim work, since it was likely going to be huge.

His entire business had, quite literally, gone up in flames.

Jackson’s mom ushered them all through to the kitchen, and Leo sat hesitantly at the big oak table.

“Coffee, Mr. Gallagher?”

“Please,” he said, looking extremely uncomfortable. “Call me Leo.”

Jackson sat down next to him and, under the table, where his mom and Valerie couldn’t see, touched his thigh.

“Thanks for coming,” he said, even though he still couldn’t really remember asking Leo to come.

“No problem. Do you want me to stay?”

“Yes. If you don’t mind.”

“I can do that.”

A moment later, his mom brought four mugs of coffee to the table. Jackson’s dad was still outside with Brandon and the fire department, trying to help. For now, there really wasn’t much any of them could do.

“How do you know Jackson, Leo?” Jackson’s mom asked.

Leo hesitated and looked at Jackson.

“He’s my soul mate,” Jackson said.

His mom’s eyebrows shot up into her hairline. “Oh,” she said and sipped her coffee. “I didn’t know you’d met your soul mate.”

The message in her tone was clear: Jackson, you little shit, you didn’t tell me.

“We had sort of decided to give it time,” Jackson said. He didn’t know what else to say. “I’m apparently totally homophobic and couldn’t handle my soul mate being a man” probably wouldn’t go down too well.

Leo coughed softly.

“Mr. Gallagher—sorry, Leo—and I know each other. From the hospital.”

Jackson looked between them with a growing sense of horror.

“We only met recently,” Leo said quickly.

“Oh.”

“Lewis is a common last name,” his mom said, her voice a little too tight to be genuine. “I’m not surprised you didn’t realize.”

Jackson felt the smothering tension in the room grow and expand as they all sat in uncomfortable silence, waiting to see who would be the first to snap.

He had no patience left.

“Sorry,” Jackson mumbled, pushing his chair back with a harsh noise, and rushed away to his room.

A moment later there was a soft knock at the door and Leo stuck his head around it.

“I can go,” he said. “I’ll come back later if you need me.”

“No, please stay. I’m sorry.”

Leo stepped in and closed the door.

“Don’t be. Though I’m still not entirely sure why you called me.”

Jackson felt the mattress dip as Leo sat down next to him.

“Me either.” Still, he put his hand on top of Leo’s.

Leo was so gentle, so sweet, even in the face of Jackson’s crushing depression and rejection. Jackson watched dispassionately as Leo kicked off his sneakers, then pushed Jackson until he was sitting upright. Then he straddled Jackson’s lap and wrapped his legs around Jackson’s waist.

“What the—”

“Shh. Just go with it.”

Leo gently tugged Jackson’s hair until his face was pressed against Leo’s neck, right at that spot where Jackson liked to breathe him in. Like this, Jackson had to hold him, had to brace his hands against Leo’s back to help him stay upright. They were holding each other up.

“I don’t know what to do,” Jackson mumbled against Leo’s shoulder.

“Don’t think. Just stay like this for a little while.”

Leo petted Jackson’s hair, running his fingers through it, and Jackson felt himself relaxing moment by slow, slow moment.

He didn’t feel better, not exactly, but there was something so comforting about being held like this. It was intimate and important but not sexual, and nothing like his mother’s well-intentioned smothering.

“I really treated you like shit,” Jackson said after a while. He’d been following Leo’s lead and gently running his hands over Leo’s back, soothing himself while seeking out that comfort from his soul mate.

“That wasn’t an apology.” Leo sounded amused.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah, me too, Jackson.”

“You were right. I was too busy thinking about how hard it was for me, and I didn’t even ask you how you were coping with it all. I thought… I guess I thought that because you’re gay you’d just be okay.”

Leo huffed a laugh. “I think being gay is the easiest thing about it for me. I hurt you, though. With the bracelet thing. I should have known….”

“How were you supposed to know?”

“If I’d wanted to, I could have found out. I’m sorry if I hurt your friends too.”

Jackson shook his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

“They probably all hate me.”

“Trust me, not as much as they hate me.”

Leo frowned at him.

“They think I’m an idiot for letting you go,” he clarified.

Leo brushed his fingers through Jackson’s hair again, then leaned down and rested his forehead against Jackson’s. Jackson looked up, then stretched his back a little. Leo smiled down at him.

“Can we go talk to the cops? See if they have anything else?”

“Sure.”

Leo climbed off Jackson’s lap and pulled his shoes back on.

When Jackson pushed his bedroom door open, he quickly figured they were alone. In the kitchen, his mom had left a note scrawled on a scrap of his notepaper, a mug on top holding it in place.

“They’ve gone to pick up some lunch,” Jackson said, reading the note, then tossing it in the trash. “She said to call if we want anything to eat or if we need them.”

“Okay.”

“Were you supposed to be working today?” Jackson said, only just realizing that everyone had lives of their own and he was too fucking self-obsessed to think about that.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Oh fuck. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, Jackson,” Leo said gently. “I called in and switched my shift around. It’s not a problem.”

“Okay.”

He slipped his hand into Leo’s, not ready to let go yet. If Leo was surprised, he didn’t show it. He just squeezed gently and let Jackson lead him outside.