Chapter Seven
Russell
Until that moment, I hadn’t remembered. In fact, I thought I’d blocked the whole night out on purpose.
My memories came back like a window opening that had been stuck for years. “You came to me that night..”
Jameson leaned his head on my knees and nodded. His hot forehead burned through my jeans.
“That was the night it all went to hell. They didn’t give me a chance to tell anyone goodbye—my friends, no one. Except you.”
He sighed and grabbed ahold of the backs of my thighs. “I couldn’t let you go without telling you.”
That night, Jameson had told me all the things I wanted and needed to hear. He’d told me everything was going to be okay. He’d told me that one day, I would look back and be grateful for the lesson I learned. He told me that no matter what, he would always be there for me.
He’d tried, in the months after I left. He found out where I’d gone and sent me letter, which I returned unopened and made phone calls I refused to answer. I’d fallen into a deep depression and was having a pretty hefty pity party.
I thought he’d even tried to visit me once. The landlord said someone was waiting outside my apartment, but I’d worked a double shift and had missed him.
“You showed up at my apartment.”
Another nod.
“You called.”
Another nod.
“You—you loved me even back then.” It wasn’t a question, more like a realization. I must’ve been the stupidest person in the world not to realize.
He spoke and when he did, the warmth of his breath made my cheeks heat, something I thought I’d never feel again. “I’ve always loved you.”
My growling stomach interrupted our tender moment.
He chuckled, and I felt the reverberation from my toes all the way to the top of my head. “I’ll go cook. You sit here and process. I know it’s a lot to take in. But I warn you, all I know how to make is spaghetti.”
My throat wouldn’t allow words, but I would’ve said spaghetti was my favorite.
He left, and I immediately felt the icy loneliness of his absence.
There were only a few minutes where I heard opening and shutting cabinets and pots and pans being finagled before he cussed, saying a word I didn’t recall him ever saying before.
“What?” I screamed, running into the kitchen.
“I cut my finger slicing the onions. I can’t cook worth a damn.”
I didn’t think about what I did next. My wolf pushed me on, wanting to know what only a drop of his blood could do. Grabbing him by the belt loops, I pulled him forward and closed my lips around his bleeding finger.
I could feel every minute drop of his blood stinging yet velvety down my throat. And with it, knowledge so intimate it was almost like memories, floated into my head Jameson looking at me when he didn’t think I noticed. Breaths we shared that night through my window when he should’ve hated me like everyone else did.
He and I locked in an embrace reserved for lovers.
Flashes of a life I’d always wanted but never realized.
I clung to him with everything in me, not ready to let go of him or the joy that was consuming me.
He took several long breaths, trying to get a rein on his emotions. They were aligned with mine now.
“Now that you’ve seen all the reasons we should be together, let me tell you the reason we shouldn’t.”
I stepped back. “What?”
“Don’t get alarmed. I bet Kyle never told you why you shouldn’t meet him in the woods and fall in love with him, right? He never gave you the choice. I’m giving you the choice because I love you. I want you to know everything before you decide to be with me. I don’t want some ultimatum or your son’s safety hanging over your head, making the decision for you. So here are the reasons why you shouldn’t be mated to me.”
I braced myself against the counter and listened.
“I can’t cook. I’ve never been a father, and I had a bastard for one. I’m not even sure if I’d know the first thing about being an example in your boy’s life. I’m selfish. I think I’ve been alone too long. I like to work a lot, and sometimes I just like to run off alone in the forest for hours at a time. I’ve never had a lover, and the only thing I know about being a husband is to do the opposite of what my father did.”
Those were some pretty solid reasons.
“Now, let me tell you why you should.”
I didn’t have to hear them. Instead, I pressed my finger over his lips. He’d taken his finger from my mouth, but the lingering of his blood stayed like a rich wine on my tongue.
“I already know the reasons. But I still need to think about it. Actually, there really isn’t anything to think about. You are my true mate. I know that now. But I need to sleep on the fact that I’ve been blind to that for most of my life. And there’s a bunch of reasons you shouldn’t want to be my mate.”
Jameson reached out and feathered his thumb over my cheek. “I’ll finish cooking. You tell me all of these ludicrous reasons.”
He washed his hands and started again where he’d left off.
“I’m cranky in the mornings—not cranky, bitchy. I suck at keeping up with the laundry. I’ve gotten used to doing a lot of things by myself, and it’s hard for me to accept help. I’ve never slept in the bed with anyone except Ollie when he had the flu. Kyle is the only experience I’ve had with a male, and it wasn’t exactly a relationship. There was no dating or courting—just… I can’t even talk to you now.”
He put the pasta in the boiling water and rolled his eyes. “You’re doing great. Keep going. Do you chew on your toenails or smell your ear wax? What else can I look forward to?”
The man wasn’t hearing me at all. But when he was listing off the reasons not to mate with him, I wasn’t listening, either.
His reasons were nothing to me.
In fact, they convinced me even more.
“That’s the nastiest thing I’ve ever heard. I can’t believe you said that.”
He shrugged. “I can do the laundry, by the way. I’m good at the laundry if you’ll do the cooking, well, all but spaghetti night.”
I hopped up on the counter, sitting next to the stove. “This doesn’t scare you?”
A laugh erupted from his face, a face that now looked the same yet completely different from when we were children. I’d noticed his jaw, but not how it ground when he was thinking about something.
Or how his hands seemed to fit my waist just right.
“You scare me most of all,” he said, reaching between my legs to pull out the spoon drawer. Slow didn’t even begin to describe the way he closed it, letting his hand lazily graze the top of my thigh and the length of my cock.
How did I never notice how utterly dangerous Jameson was?
“Why?” He pretended to be enthralled with his sauce, but I knew better. “Jameson,” I breathed and nudged his hip with my foot. “Why?”
“Get to the table and I’ll explain. I’m serious. I’m really bad at this, and I especially can’t cook if you’re right there touching me.”
“Fine.” I grabbed plates and forks from the table and set it for three. Even if Oliver ate with his cousins, he would want more when he got home.
In a span of minutes, we were sharing glances, and my face heated a little more every time he looked back.
There was no choice, but the thing was, I wasn’t alone anymore. I had another person in my life to think of.
He took his time sitting down and doling us both out food.
“You scare me because you have everything I’ve ever wanted right in your hands—always have. I’ve always wanted a family, but I’ll never have one with anyone but you. My fate lies with you, Russ. But I don’t want that to sway your answer. I’d rather you be with someone else and live a happy life than to be with me and we make each other miserable.”
And he expected me to eat after he said something like that.
“It’s not just me anymore, Jameson. I have to talk to Oliver. I know it sounds insane, getting the opinion of a four-year-old, but it’s been me and him for so long it would be like my right hand not knowing what my left is doing. He is my family, now.”
Another thing I’d always respected about Jameson, but now adored, was the way he held eye contact the entire time I talked.
I wasn’t sure I could live with someone else looking into those eyes.
“No, it sounds perfectly sane. That’s one of the things I’ve learned to respect about you over the last day or so. Your son comes first in your life, and I won’t do anything to change that. I—I wish he were mine.”
If any words in the world could’ve shattered my heart into shards, it was those words.
Jameson could break my heart with one sentence. That’s how I knew that this was more than convenience. A whole hell of a lot more than my mate. I saw this man in a whole new light, for the first time I recognized the love I’d wanted forever.
The male who would protect us and keep me happy for the rest of my life.
“That’s exactly why I have to speak to him first, Jameson. If this is going to happen, then you aren’t just going to be my husband and mate. You will be the second most important person in his life from this point forward. He has to be okay with that. Any chance you can make cookies? That might help.”
That was my attempt at trying to add humor to the situation.
“I can go to the store and buy cookies like nobody’s business.”
I cracked up. “For a boy, that is close enough. We’ll have to teach you how to make real cookies.”
He reached across the table and took my free hand in his. My other hand held on to the table for dear life, hoping like hell this whole situation with Jameson was real. “That’s the best damned thing I’ve ever heard.”
Just then Oliver burst in through the side door and looked around—wearing his Papa,-I’m-starving-to-death face. I knew it well.
“Go wash up and then you can eat. Jameson made us spaghetti.”
He clapped his chubby hands together. “Basketti is my favorite.”
“Then go before Jameson eats it all.”
Oliver walked up to Jameson, slicker than a fox and with fists on his hips, said, “You have to save some for me. My muskles are still growing.”
Jameson didn’t miss a beat. “Lemme see those muscles. I don’t believe you have any.”
Proudly, Oliver pulled up his sleeves and flexed until his little cheeks turned red. “See? You see ’em?”
Jameson stood and, before I could catch my breath, pushed his T-shirt over his head and flexed in the same way Oliver was. “How about me? Do you see mine? I wonder if your papa can tell us whose muscles are bigger.”
If the man really expected me to be able to conjure a coherent thought while he was being that adorable with my son, he had another think coming.
Not to mention, his body that would make Thor go to the clouds and hide in shame.
Instead of speaking, I pointed to Ollie. He jumped all over my assessment. “See? I got big muscles. But I still need more basketti. Don’t eat it all.”
He stomped off to the bathroom, making Hulk noises the whole way.
Jameson pulled his shirt back on, and some of the threads popped as he did, protesting. Or maybe that was the sound of me protesting—I couldn’t tell which.
Jameson lifted one eyebrow. “You’re a liar. Who knew?”
“I am not. His muscles are so much bigger than yours. Pathetic.”
We both laughed.
“I’m gonna go,” he said after taking the last swipe of food with his fork.
“Why?” The last thing I wanted was for him to go.
“You need to talk to him and take the rest of the night to think about things. This is a big decision, Russ. I know it’s rushed, and I know you’re scared, but tonight is all you have to think on it. I’ll come see you in the morning, cranky and all.”
He winked once and then got up to leave.
“Not even a kiss?” My voice reminded me of my younger self, before Kyle, before things got complicated, before I represented more than one person in this life.
I loved sounding young again.
“No.”
“No?”
He shook his head. “I can be here with you. I can support you and be your friend always. But if I kiss you, if those sweet lips touch mine, it will be a thousand times harder on me if you choose not to be my mate. I don’t want to take the chance. It would fucking kill me, Russell.”
I looked down. “Okay. Good night, Jameson.”
“Good night, love. Make the right decision for you and that boy. Not for anyone else.” He took a few steps toward me, and my heart nearly beat clear out of my sternum. His warm lips pressed tenderly on my forehead, and then, in a flash, he was gone.
“Where’d he go?” Oliver asked, coming back into the dining room and sitting at the table.
I looked into those blue eyes and knew the conversation couldn’t wait any longer. “He went home. You and I have something important to talk about.”
He held his hands out, palms toward me. “Okay, but let me finish my basketti first.”
I only had to wait about five seconds.
“I wanted to talk to you about Jameson.”
He took a deep breath. My heart dropped into my stomach, thinking he was going to say he didn’t like Jameson or something worse.
“I know you were lying, Papa. He has big muscles. One day I’m gonna have big muscles like that.”
I giggled and scooped him up in my arms. “You will, one day. What I’m talking about is…what would you think about Jameson and me getting married—mated?”
He rolled it around in his mind a little and while he did, his lips pooched out. “Is he my daddy? Like the other boys at school?”
This was the worst. Never when I followed Kyle into the woods, romanced by his slick words, did I think this would be the consequence. “No. You can meet your daddy if you want to, but Jameson would be my husband and your step-dad. So, like a daddy, but you don’t have to call him that if you don’t want to. He would live here with us.”
He turned his body in toward me and buried his face in my neck. He didn’t speak for a while.
“I would have three daddies. That’s a lot of daddies. Two plus one is three.”
The spoils of preschool.
“Well, your other daddy might not be around as much, but Jameson would be here every day. Jameson doesn’t know much about being a daddy though. You might have to help him.”
He squinted and twirled a piece of my hair around his finger. “Erika is adopted. Her daddy isn’t her born daddy.”
It was a far stretch, but I saw his logic.
“And Jameson wouldn’t be your born daddy, but I bet he would try to be the best daddy he could.”
Without warning, Ollie got on his knees in my lap and took my face in his hands. “Is he gonna kiss you, Papa? Those are my kisses. You can marry him if he doesn’t take my kisses.”
I breathed out a sigh and then bumped my forehead against his. “I have more kisses than anyone in the world. Most of them are for you, but some might be for Jameson. That’s what married people do. They kiss.”
He screwed his face up in disgust.
“Okay. But not a lot of them.”
I squeezed him as tight as I could before he claimed I was gonna squeeze his dinner out. We talked about Jameson during that night’s bath. Ollie had an inquisition’s worth of questions, most of which had to be saved for later. I could’ve guessed at some but thought it best to save for future conversations.
Ollie slept in his bed that night without ever getting up.