Chapter Eleven

 

 

FOR THANKSGIVING Jackson headed back to his parents’ house in Spokane. Their annual get-together involved layers of family, extended family, adopted family, and neighbors who arrived bearing foil-covered casserole dishes.

Jackson wasn’t expected to do much except bring a few crates of beer and open bottles at opportune moments. His family had labeled him as a loner even as a kid, and now it wasn’t unusual for him to sneak off when things got too overwhelming.

The morning after their big get-together, Jackson startled awake. This bedroom was both familiar and not, these days. Jackson rolled over and buried his face in the pillow. The weekend after he’d moved out for college, his mom had arranged for the room to be completely redecorated. It was now painted a nice cream color, with yellow accents and light oak furniture. He often woke up expecting to see the posters of women and cars on the walls, like it was before he moved out.

The clock on the nightstand said it was a little after nine thirty, which meant Jackson wouldn’t fall back asleep now. The house was quiet as he pulled on sweatpants and a T-shirt from the dresser and headed downstairs.

There was no sign of Valerie or their mom, but he found they’d left him just enough coffee in the pot to make up a mug. He blasted it in the microwave—because why the fuck not?—and doctored it with sugar and cream. Then he went out to his dad’s workshop.

Sometimes his family’s predictability was useful.

It was freezing outside, but only a few steps from the kitchen door to the workshop, so he sucked it up and ran. Inside, the heaters were running, making the small space that was once a garage feel almost cozy.

“Hey,” Jackson said, taking his usual place on the bench.

He’d spent a lot of time out here as a kid, watching his dad work. When he’d gotten older, Jackson realized how much his dad must have given up. He had so much passion for carpentry, innate talent and hard-earned skill, but he’d spent his working life as a professional banker. It was only now, in his retirement, that he was able to dedicate any time to his hobby.

“Didn’t expect to see you,” his dad grunted. Today he was working on a low coffee table made of what Jackson thought might be walnut.

“We didn’t finish until late last night. Mom convinced me to stay.”

“Ah. She’s gone out. Took Valerie with her. I think they’re going for brunch.”

“I won’t ask,” Jackson joked.

“Everything okay?”

His dad continued to work, calm and steady, leaving the workshop wide-open for whatever words Jackson might want to fill it with. Jackson wanted to choose his words carefully, but none came.

“I met my soul mate.”

“Yeah?” His dad looked up with a broad smile. “Congratulations.”

“It’s a man.”

His dad blinked. “Oh. I didn’t know….”

“I’m not gay.”

Those words felt like a lie, now. He’d spent enough time kissing Leo; they’d slept together, for fuck’s sake. Still, it felt like whatever they were doing was in spite of the fact Leo was a man, not because of it. “Gay” was not a label Jackson was ready to claim.

“Is he?”

“Yeah. He’s human too.”

“That sounds complicated,” his dad said, and turned back to his table.

“Yeah, it’s not exactly a walk in the park.”

“How long ago?”

“A couple months.”

“Huh.” A grunt. “Wondered why we hadn’t seen you in a while.”

Jackson gripped the edge of the worktop and swung his legs back and forth. He wasn’t exactly expecting his dad to come out with all the answers. Or maybe, if he was being honest with himself, he was.

“What are you going to do?”

Well, wasn’t that just the million-dollar question.

“I don’t think either of us know at this point. I’m just trying not to be a shitty person. Mostly failing.”

“I never told any of you kids when I found my soul mate.”

Jackson looked up sharply. His parents were nonmated wolves. It was about as common as mated werewolf partners, but he didn’t know his dad had found a mate. One who wasn’t his mom. “No,” he said carefully. “You didn’t.”

“It was about… oh, ten, fifteen years ago now. Y’all were still in high school, I know that much.” He moved over to his toolbox, selected a chisel, and went back to the little table.

“What happened?”

“Not much,” he said. “We were both at the county clerk’s office. I remember, because I needed to renew my passport before we went on that summer vacation to Alberta.”

“I remember,” Jackson said.

“She was just… there. We talked for a few minutes. She had a husband and a daughter about the same age as you. I was obviously married to your mom. It was good to meet her. I’m glad I get to say that about myself. And it was nice too…. She’s a lot like your mom. I got that impression in those few minutes. Me and your mom chose each other, but I chose someone pretty similar to the person the universe picked for me.”

“Have you seen her again?”

“Nope,” his dad said, still concentrating on fitting the table legs to the top. “No need to. She wasn’t interested in staying in contact, and neither was I.”

“But… but why?”

His dad turned and leaned a hip against the big dresser, folding his arms over his chest. When Jackson was a kid, his dad dressed in sharp suits, and smart casual slacks and a polo shirt on his downtime. There was an image they projected as a family of comfortable wealth and respectability in their community.

Only when Jackson got older did he realize the image wasn’t for other wolves. It was so his dad could be seen as trustworthy among his human colleagues.

These days his dad didn’t give a fuck what anyone thought of him and often worked in jeans and T-shirts. He’d always been a big man, imposing, but he’d softened with age. The beard helped, Jackson thought. These days his dad was more friendly lumberjack than imposing businessman.

“Here’s the thing, Jackson. Now you’ve met him, you’ll never be complete without him. That’s the hard fact of it. If you embrace him, if you let him in, then it’ll be the most incredible, most profound relationship you’ll ever have.”

“Dad….”

“Listen for a sec, hmm?”

Jackson nodded.

“I had four people at home who I’d already committed my life to. Loving your mother was enough. Loving you kids was enough. I could turn my back on her and know that I had everything I’d ever need.”

Jackson’s heart clenched. He’d never heard his dad talk like this before.

“Didn’t it hurt?” Jackson asked.

“Yeah,” his dad said frankly. “It tore me apart inside. Thing is, kid, him being your soul mate is only one part of the equation. Your relationship will still need work. It’ll need time and effort and commitment from both of you. The stars aligned to give you something special. It’s like… like a seed. That has the potential to grow into something beautiful, but you still need to water it and tend it and care for it. You understand me?”

“I understand,” Jackson said.

“You take it for granted, then it could wither and die. So you have a soul mate. So what? You have to want it, Jackson.”

“Did you ever tell Brandon and Valerie?”

“Nope.”

“Oh. Did you tell Mom?”

His dad gave him a hard look. “Of course.”

Jackson wasn’t entirely sure what to do with the information. He rolled it around in his head for a few minutes, listening to the soft sounds of his dad as he returned to working on the table.

“Are you trying to tell me I should not be with Leo and go and find someone else?”

“I’m not telling you anything.” His dad looked up then, brown eyes so much like Jackson’s own. “Except that you always have a choice. Soul mate or not. It’s your choice.”

“Okay.”

That wasn’t—really wasn’t—the conversation Jackson had expected to have. He slipped down from the worktop and headed back into the house to shower.

 

 

THAT NIGHT he went out to a nightclub that was too loud and too full of people, with cousins who were barely old enough to drink, but somehow Jackson was put in charge of. Probably because he was the “sensible one.”

He loaded most of them into a taxi before midnight and sent them home to their poor mothers, then joined Valerie at the bar for another drink.

“How’s Leo?” she asked, raising her voice over the noise of the music.

“He’s good.”

“Can I meet him yet?”

Jackson grinned and carefully studied the ice in his glass of whiskey. “No.”

“Please, Jackson?” she wheedled. “I wanna know what he’s like.”

“I don’t know, Valerie. We’re still working things out.”

“But you are working, right? Like, you’re trying to make it work?”

He understood what she was trying to say. “Yeah. It’s not as weird as I thought it was going to be.”

“Really? You decided you’re gay after all?”

He punched her lightly on the arm for that. He could get away with it—she was his sister.

“I’m not gay. But I do like him.”

She grinned like he had confessed the secrets of the universe.

“Now I have to meet him.”

Jackson laughed and threw back the rest of the whiskey, appreciating how it burned his throat.

“I’m out.”

It was cold outside now, and apparently Valerie hadn’t brought a jacket with her. She wrapped her arms around herself, and Jackson sulked as he shrugged out of his own and tucked it over her shoulders. The cold air was making him feel more drunk than the warm, fuzzy atmosphere at the bar.

A cab pulled up and Jackson went to open the door for Valerie to get in first. She shook her head. “I’m going back inside.”

“What for?”

She laughed. “Who for, darling.”

Jackson pulled a face. He didn’t need to know about his sister’s sex life. Not one bit.

“I’ll have my jacket, then.”

She handed it over, leaned up, and kissed him on the cheek, then walked inside without another word.

On the ride home, Jackson turned his phone over and over in his hands, trying to decide if his instincts were right. They almost never were, and when Leo was involved, he had no idea at all. He was lost at sea without a compass.

But Leo was his North Star.

When he got to his parents’, Jackson grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and swayed as he drank it, then stripped off in his bedroom, leaving his clothes wherever they landed. He was naked in his bed less than three minutes after locking the door behind himself.

Then he dialed Leo’s number. The phone rang three times before he picked up.

“Hey.” Jackson’s voice sounded gravelly even to his own ears.

“Hey. Did you mean to call me?”

“Yes,” Jackson said emphatically.

“Are you drunk?” Leo sounded amused rather than pissed off.

“I’m not not drunk.”

“Is this a booty call?”

“No,” Jackson said firmly. Then his brain caught up with his mouth. “Not that I wouldn’t booty call you. But we haven’t done the whole”—he made gestures Leo couldn’t see—“booty thing yet. So I wouldn’t do that. Yet.”

“I understand. For what it’s worth, I think you’re oddly charming, even when you’re clearly drunk.”

“People don’t normally call me charming.”

“What do they call you?”

“Not much.” His stomach lurched, and he pressed a quelling hand against it, really not wanting to puke. “I don’t talk to people that often. You might have noticed.”

“You like your own space. I can respect that.”

“I wouldn’t mind if you were in it more often. My space. You should be in it.”

“If you’re willing to make space for me….”

Jackson nodded emphatically. “Yes,” he said, once he realized Leo still couldn’t see him. “I will.”

“Okay.” Leo’s voice was soft and warm. He yawned, tried to muffle it, but Jackson heard anyway. He glanced at the clock on the wall, which told him it was almost two in the morning. Shit.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have woken you up.”

“It’s okay.”

“Go back to sleep.”

“I will. You should come over this week, though. So we can hang out.”

“Yeah.” That sounded like a good idea. “Okay. Let me know when.”

“I’ll text you. And Jackson?”

“Yeah?”

“Make sure you drink some water and take two Tylenol before you go to bed. You’ll thank me in the morning.”

“Okay. Good night, Leo.”

“Good night, Jackson.”