With my pack gone, the house feels so painfully lonely that I don’t know how I’m going to get through the next few days without them.
But I’m going to have to find a way, because something inside me refuses to walk away and leave a shifter in that level of pain to continue living in the woods, which, going by the way he smelled and my initial belief he was a wild wolf, he’s been doing for a while.
In the car back to the rental, I thought he might be a member of the Merrick pack, but since Talis never mentioned there being a boy, I quickly rejected the idea.
Still, he’s here, on Dawley-Stone land, and he’s here for a reason. Something or someone drew him here. What that was or is, is going to be up to me to find out.
I hid my tears outside from Jackson by rushing upstairs with the real excuse that I had to unpack when he was distracted with his phone. With my emotions under control, I’m just re-hanging an unworn white blouse back in my closet when Jackson shoves the door open with the same black duffel in his hand.
I take one look at him and shake my head. “No.”
My word has about as much effect as me physically moving him did. None. At all.
Jackson stalks into my room and glances around the room. It’s one of the smallest in the house since I don’t need a lot of space, and I’ve always been happier with cozy rather than a massive space that makes me feel like I have to fill it.
“We should move into one of the bigger rooms,” he says, eyeing the bed.
At the thought of us sharing a bed that doesn’t look like it’ll come close to containing all of Jackson’s heavily muscled form, I rip my eyes away. I shove the blouse on the rail and cross over to him, shaking my head all the while.
“There is no we. You can move into one of the bigger rooms. This room suits me just fine.”
Jackson doesn’t respond to me putting my hands on his belly and shoving. Honestly, I don’t even know why I’m bothering.
He tilts his head to the side as he studies me. “I didn’t think you were the type to like pink and frills.”
He’s right. I don’t.
While the room is a similar size to my cozy cottage in Hardin, the decor leaves a lot to be desired. All the rooms here have a theme. Some are modern, some masculine. This one is the cutesy, pretty, and very feminine one in blush tones with white, distressed furniture, and a shabby chic vibe. The very opposite of my rented home.
My cottage is filled with color. There are reds and golds and mustard yellows. It’s bright and happy and makes me want to smile every time I step inside.
“Maybe I do.” I give up shoving him, since the only thing it’s doing is giving me a sore wrist.
Jackson studies me for several more seconds in silence. “No,” he says slowly. “No, I don’t think you do.”
When he lifts his hand to my face, I freeze because I don’t know what he’s planning to do. I manage to go even more still-if that’s possible-when he smooths back a few stray strands of hair from my face with a gentler touch than I was expecting.
The way he regards me as if he’s attempting to peer into my soul pins me to the spot as surely as when he trapped me against the tree. When his bag suddenly thumps to the ground, I jerk in surprise and wrench myself back.
A faint smile graces his lips. “I have to go out.”
I smile sweetly at him. “To find another place to live?”
He raises his eyebrow but refuses to let me provoke him into an argument. “Some tools were missing from the contractor’s cabin on pack land, and the lock is broken. I’m going to check it out.”
My excitement stirs, and I struggle to contain it. “Oh. Well, I’ll just stick around here, then. Maybe do some laundry.”
His eyes narrow. “Laundry?”
I nod. Probably more vigorously than I need to.
Scale it back, Regan, he’s already suspicious and no one’s that excited to do laundry.
“I only brought a few clothes, so I need to do laundry.”
“And after that?”
No concern of yours.
I shrug. “I’ll probably have a nap. I was up pretty early this morning.”
I gaze up at Jackson, trying to look innocent. I think I’m successful because half of my sentence was the truth.
“Right,” Jackson says, not moving. Seconds pass in silence.
I hold on to my mask of innocence for so long that I feel my eyeballs drying out because of how wide I have my eyes.
Although he still doesn’t look like he believes me, he shrugs and turns to leave. “Well, I’d better go. I’ll be back in a couple of hours. You need me to pick up anything while I’m out?”
My excitement peaks at the thought of him being gone for so long. Two hours is plenty of time for me to grab what I need to from the kitchen and make a start on my reason for staying in Dawley. But I could always do with a little more time.
What will keep him out even longer?
What I need is for Jackson to trek all the way to the back of the grocery store.
Maybe I could say we’re out of milk? That always seems to be right at the back. Or it feels like it whenever I’ve run in just to grab a gallon of milk. By the time I get to the chiller, I have an armful of things I didn’t need and don’t have any free hands left.
“Milk,” I say firmly. “And eggs.”
Jackson’s eyebrow goes up. “There were still a couple of gallons in the refrigerator when I made breakfast the other day and plenty of eggs. You used them all up?”
Shit. How could I forget that?
“Uh, yeah. This morning.”
Jackson’s expression doesn’t change. “No problem. I’ll be a little longer then.”
Perfect.
“Thanks so much. I appreciate it.” Unnerved by the fact that he’s still not moving, I start for my purse. “You need cash? I think I have-”
“Not necessary,” Jackson says, sounding amused. “I won’t need it.”
Before I can figure out what he means, he turns and walks out.
I stand there, listening to him taking the stairs two at a time. I hear him open the front door and slam it shut behind him. Finally, I hear him start his truck and then pull away from the house.
I wait until I can’t hear his truck anymore, and then I rush down the stairs and into the kitchen.
It takes me a couple of minutes to grab a grocery bag from the pantry and shove chips, granola bars, soda, jerky, and a couple of packets of raw steaks we didn’t get to inside.
I spend a couple of seconds staring at the gallons of milk in the refrigerator and consider dumping them in the sink now, or if I should do it later. And the eggs. I’m going to have to get rid of those too before Jackson gets back because the second he opens the refrigerator and takes one look inside, he’ll know I was trying to get rid of him.
“Find the boy first. Deal with the milk and eggs later,” I mutter to myself and slam the refrigerator closed.
I grab my bag of food and head straight for the back door that’ll lead out to the forest, knowing I’m going to have to run fast to get to pack land, so I have longer to look for the boy.
With Jackson going to the store, I might have just enough time to get there, spend an hour looking around, and if I can’t find him, I’ll leave the food. Maybe somewhere up high so a wild animal doesn’t get to it before he does.
But since Jackson’s going to be busy with the build, there’s going to be plenty of opportunities for me to keep going back to look if a wild animal beats him to the food this time. If I don’t find him first, that is.
Distracted by thoughts of where I should start looking, I shove open the back door and quickly turn to pull it closed.
When I turn back around, I nearly drop my bag, because standing at the bottom of the porch is Jackson Stone, his arms folded across his chest and the same amusement in his eyes that I wondered at upstairs.
“Going somewhere, darlin’?”
“Oh, crap.”