4. Jace

The next morning, Waylan dropped by as I was making breakfast. "Morning," he said.

"Shhh." I put my finger to my lips and pointed at the ceiling. "Kirsten's still asleep."

He held up his hands in surrender. "Sorry."

I went back to mixing the pancake batter.

Waylan glanced across the counter and shook his head. "What the hell is that?" he asked. He pointed to the large glass pitcher-like object filled with dark brown liquid. I felt the heat rise to my cheeks, but didn't answer.

"Are you making fucking cold brew?" Waylan asked. "What's next? Are you gonna go to the mall and hang out with your friends to talk about homework and boys?"

"Would you shut up?" I hissed. "Get the bacon out of the fridge."

Kirsten came down not long after. She ate, then headed back upstairs to shower and change before we headed to the airport to pick up her friend, Harley. Her flight was due to land at noon. Waylan and I sat on the porch, waiting for her to come back down. He drank his disgusting instant coffee, and I sipped at my own. He could make fun of me all he liked, but I knew how to make damn good coffee.

Waylan drummed his fingers on his knee. "At what point are you gonna tell Kirsten the truth?"

"What truth? What do you mean?"

He rolled his eyes. "Don't play dumb with me. You know what I mean."

I was pretty sure that I did, but I didn't feel like admitting it. "Actually, I don't know what you mean."

"How long until Kirsten catches on to the fact that she's not living with you just for her safety? You know we could have guys sitting in her driveway twenty-four-seven. That, along with her ward, would be more than enough to keep Eren and his goons away."

All I could do was shrug. He wasn't wrong. If I really wanted to, I could have made her cabin just as safe as my house. If I did that, though, I wouldn't have her close. With her here, we might repair our relationship quicker. Was I being a hundred percent honest with her? No. But in my book, it was more like a white lie than actual deception.

"Things ended badly the other day," I finally said. "The last thing I want is to try and force her to reconsider her relationship with me until we're on good terms again. What better way to get on good terms than to live under the same roof?"

"I'm not judging," Waylan said.

"Sounds a lot like you are," I snapped.

"No, no, I was only asking if you were going to own up."

"I have to make things right," I said, still skirting the subject. "I want her to know she can trust me. And regardless of how safe I could make her cabin, you and I both know I wouldn't sleep well knowing she's all by herself there every night."

"Fair point," Waylan said.

"I need to show her that I can be a good mate. I can prove that my fuck-up the other night was a one-time thing, that I'm not a shit heel. The potion worked, and now that the curse has been broken, I can sense the pull toward Kirsten stronger than ever before. She really is my fated mate. I'll do anything and everything in my power to prove to her that I'm worthy of her."

Before Waylan could respond, Kirsten bounded out the door. "You guys ready?" she asked. There was a spring in her step, and I could tell by the glimmer in her eye that she was excited to see her friend again.

"I'm ready if you are," I said.

The three of us piled into my truck and set off for the airport.

"Why are you tagging along?" Kirsten asked, glancing over her shoulder at Waylan in the backseat.

"He's my backup," I explained.

"In case Eren or any of his pack tries anything on the trip," Waylan added. "Jace can handle himself, but even the strongest alpha could use help if he's outnumbered."

A shadow of worry crossed Kirsten's face, but she quickly shrugged it off. Instead of pursuing that line of questioning, she asked Waylan about himself.

"What do you do for a living?"

"I'm a mechanic. Got a shop in town. Though, I spend so much time helping this guy run the pack that I consider it a part-time job at this point." Waylan snorted. "I swear, Jace would have a hard time putting his shoes on the right feet if I wasn't around."

"Very funny," I grumbled.

As Kirsten and Waylan continued to speak, a warm, comforting sense of peace fell over me. I couldn't know for sure, but the fact that she was trying to get to know my best friend, and helping him get to know her as well, gave me hope that Kirsten had truly changed her mind. That she really did want to stick around Crestwood. I would take all the playful ribbing in the world if that was true.

We arrived at St. Louis Regional Airport a few hours later, and I parked the truck in the short-term lot before we headed inside to await Harley's arrival. Over the last half hour or so, the conversation between Kirsten and Waylan had strayed toward her friend. Waylan seemed very interested in meeting the woman. I remembered his wide-eyed look when we first researched Kirsten online and he'd seen her best friend. Fortunately for him, Kirsten was more than happy to discuss her friend. Whether she could see Waylan's excitement or not remained to be seen, but there was no way she could have missed the sheer number of questions he had about Harley as we neared the airport.

The arrivals board, displayed on a big-screen television on one wall, stated that the flight from Houston was on time and had already landed. Harley would be coming out any minute now.

Seeing that we were hours from home, I shouldn't have been so worried, but Eren had followed Kirsten to St. Louis before. He, or one of his men, could be anywhere. Knowing that, I scanned the surroundings, sniffing the air and eyeballing everyone. There were shifters around, but none bore the scent of Eren's pack. From what I saw, they were all just mingling with the humans, moving to and from their respective destinations.

Waylan stiffened beside me. Immediately, I turned to him, thinking he'd seen something. Eren? One of his men? But he was looking toward the arrival terminal, his nostrils flared, pupils dilated so much that his eyes looked black, and the hair on his arms stood on end.

"Kirsten!" a melodic, feminine voice called out behind me.

I turned in time to see Kirsten bolt and rush toward a gorgeous, leggy redhead. The woman threw her carry-on down and wrapped my mate in a hug. Waylan let out a low growl of satisfaction and yearning, the sound a deep rumble in his chest.

I gaped at him. "You have got to be kidding me."

With what appeared to be great effort, Waylan pulled his eyes from Harley and looked at me. His chest rose and fell rapidly.

"She's my fated mate, Jace." His voice was a raspy, choked whisper.

What are the odds?I thought as Kirsten led Harley toward us.

Waylan seemed barely capable of speaking as we went to baggage claim and got Harley's suitcase. At the truck, Kirsten hopped in the backseat with her friend.

"I'll drive," Waylan grunted at me as we put the bags into the bed of the truck. "I need something to occupy my mind."

I handed him the keys, but held on when he took them. "Are you good? I don't need you crashing us into a guardrail because your dick's hard."

Waylan snorted a laugh, coming out of whatever trance he'd been in. "I'm fine. Don't worry about me."

Letting go of the keys, I went around and climbed into the passenger side. As we headed for home, Kirsten and Harley chatted nonstop. Waylan turned the radio on low to some country music station. Probably something else he was using to try and keep his mind off Harley. Not that it helped. Every half mile or so, I caught him looking at her in the rearview mirror.

After an hour, I leaned over, keeping my voice low so the women wouldn't hear. "You've got to cool it, man. You're being a bit creepy right now."

Waylan glanced in the mirror again, then whispered, "My fated mate just hopped off a fucking plane and is sitting three feet behind me. What the hell do you expect me to do?"

I couldn't argue with that. I knew how I'd felt the first time I saw and smelled Kirsten. I'd have probably been acting exactly like Waylan had Kirsten not been a witch. My anxiety, fear, and past hatred for her kind had been enough to supplant the excitement and desire raging in my chest.

Looking over my shoulder, I watched Kirsten throw her head back and laugh at whatever Harley had said. God, the woman was perfect. I wanted her to be that happy all the time. Forever. I'd do whatever I needed to ensure that happened.

By the time we finally arrived back home, Waylan looked ready to crawl out of his skin. The nervous energy inside him was bubbling up like crazy. Tapping the steering wheel, bouncing his feet, constant mirror adjustments, and about ten thousand surreptitious glances back at Harley. I was about ready to punch him in the face.

"So, this is your place?" Harley asked as she climbed down out of the cab. "I did not expect this."

"What did you expect?" I asked as I unloaded her bags.

She crinkled her nose, her mouth twisting to the side slightly. Waylan let out a muffled whimper of delight at the expression, but it was thankfully too quiet for the girls to hear.

"I'm going to sound like a stuck-up bitch, but I sort of thought shifters lived in little one-room huts or something."

I laughed, wheeling the bags around. "Sorry to disappoint you. We have houses like everyone else."

"Well, yeah, but"—she gestured to my home—"this is like a mansion. I know houses. It's literally what I do for a living. I know buyers right now who'd give you about a million bucks for this place."

"Good to know," I said. "But it's not for sale. My grandfather built it with his own hands. I will admit it's bigger than most, but it's the alpha's house. It's supposed to be bigger. We hold meetings here. Guests of the pack, like yourself, are welcome to stay. It's part of it. Come on, let me show you your room."

Harley's room was right beside Kirsten's, and as Kirsten got her settled in, Waylan and I went back downstairs.

"You know," Waylan said, looking back up the stairs, "maybe we should find Harley a more private place to stay. You and Kirsten are still getting back on even footing. Having someone around might make things harder." He turned back to look at me, eyes wide and hopeful.

"She's not staying at your place," I said.

Waylan's face fell. "But it's safe. It'll give you and Kirsten time and space to work things out."

"Waylan." I shook my head like he was the dumbest person on earth, and in that moment, he was acting like it. "You said exactly seven words to the woman the entire trip from the airport, and those were, ‘Do you need to use the bathroom?' You're a stranger to her, bro. She's not going to want to stay with you."

The look of pained understanding on his face was the closest I'd seen to him looking miserable in a long time. "Sorry," he muttered. "I'm not thinking clearly."

"Obviously."

The creak of the stairs cut our conversation short.

"How do you like it?" I asked Harley.

"Yeah, how do you like it?" Waylan chimed in before she could respond.

I groaned inwardly.

Harley gave Waylan a confused and quizzical smile before saying, "It's great. Thanks. I love the architecture of the place. Your grandfather really knew what he was doing."

"I appreciate you saying that," I said.

"So, what are the plans for the afternoon?" Harley asked.

"Actually," I said, turning to Kirsten, "Waylan and I need to head out soon. I've got a meeting with the pack elders to discuss the public declaration of the challenge. We need to iron out some details. I'm gonna have a few of my betas come up here to patrol outside, make sure nothing happens while I'm gone."

"I'll call them now," Waylan said. He looked embarrassed and uncomfortable as he stepped outside.

"It'll give you guys some time to catch up more," I said.

"That works," Kirsten said.

"I'll hang in the driveway until my guys get here," I said.

Without thinking, I stepped forward and hugged Kirsten. It was the first physical contact we'd had since the day before. Despite all that had happened, there was still tension between us. My screw-up and the way it had affected us were still there. The wall hadn't yet come fully down.

There was the slightest hesitation from Kirsten before she hugged me back.

"I'll be back soon," I murmured.

I leaned in to kiss her, but at the last second, I brushed my lips against her cheek. Kirsten might not be ready for me to give her a proper kiss. Might not even want that. There was no way to be sure, and I did not want to push too far, too fast. Nonetheless, this weird, anxious energy between us hurt.

As I left, I swore to myself that I'd do whatever was necessary to break that tension. To get things back to the way they used to be.