Chapter Thirty-Seven

Jaxon

Talking to Caleb is like pulling teeth—except fast, rushed, as he makes his way out the front door.

"They're two consenting adults," I remind him as he holsters his weapons. "And it's not like this is the first time they've hooked up."

"Don't patronize me, Jaxon," Caleb mutters. "This is more than just sex. At least, it's more than that to Micah."

The underlying accusation remains unspoken. For Faith, who knows what this is? A distraction? A quick dopamine fix? I don't like the way he's talking about her—or, worse, not talking about her—but he's not exactly giving me a lot of room to argue.

"So what do you want us to do?" I snap. "Ignore our feelings, and hers?"

"Do whatever the fuck you want— fuck , if that's what you want." He glances at me over his shoulder. "But don't delude yourself into thinking it's anything more."

"You said so yourself—it's not that simple."

"Make it that simple," he growls. "You want my blessing, there it is. Take it or leave it."

With that, he storms off, slamming the front door behind him. I stand in the wake of those bitter pheromones, mine and his, wondering how things got so fucked up. Micah and I were meant to talk to him. Meant to make him understand.

But somehow our head alpha is only getting further away.

I hear the tell-tale tinkering of Micah in the kitchen and find him hunched over the coffee machine. The guest bathroom is closed, the sound of running water filtering through.

"Well …" I sigh, leaning against the counter. "I'm sorry you had to hear that. But I'm glad Faith didn't." I scoff. "She might've actually punched him."

Micah doesn't turn around.

"You okay?" I smirk. "Tired, huh?"

It's only when I see Micah reach for a mug—note the faint tremor in his hands—that my mood shifts. I quickly round the corner, putting a hand on his back.

"Hey, woah—what's up? Did something happen last night?" I pause. "Besides the obvious."

"Last night was perfect," Micah tells me hoarsely. " She was perfect."

"Okay." I don't let go, scared he might fall apart. "That's amazing. I'm really happy for you." I consider. "Kind of jealous, but hey, who wouldn't be? Faith's awesome, and sexy as hell, and—"

"I told her I love her."

"You—really?"

"I'm really sorry. I know we agreed to do this together, as a pack, but it all happened so fast, and it felt so right, that I … I just …"

My head is racing, my heart pounding faster just to keep up. "Holy shit, Micah, that's—" I throw my arms around him, my inner alpha preening when I scent Faith's spiced lavender goodness. "That's huge."

"She didn't say it back," he splutters, "but she was happy. I could tell it meant something to her."

I grin. "Of course it did."

For a second it feels like he's about to relax, but instead he pulls away. "When I told Caleb, I … well, honestly, I was trying to force his hand. Make him take me seriously." He darkens. "It didn't go well."

"He's being stubborn. Grumpy fuck wants Faith as much as we do."

Micah quirks a brow. "Is that why he told us to have sex with her while he's out working?"

"No, I … I don't know what that's all about. He's not himself."

"He's exactly himself." Micah smiles grimly. "I think that's the problem."

I start to ask what he means when the water cuts off in the bathroom. Micah resumes his coffee-making, giving me a look that promises we'll talk about this later. Right now, our omega needs some caffeine, and all three of us need a few hours to ourselves.

Without our head alpha breathing down our necks.

***

I didn't even know it was possible for someone to pace on crutches, but Faith is giving it her best shot.

"The doctor said it'll take six to eight weeks for that fracture to heal," Micah reminds her. "So even if you were at headquarters, there's nothing you could do."

Huffing, she untucks the notepad from under her arm, leaning awkwardly to write— I CAN HELP SIRENA.

"Sirena's got all the help she needs, then some," I assure her. "What she wants—what all of us want, baby girl—is for you to get better. Let us handle the rest."

Her eyes flash, sending a bolt of lightning straight to my cock. I HANDLED AXE JUST FINE.

"Careful," I tease. "Thought we agreed to give Maverick the credit for that?"

"Besides," Micah puts in, "that was probably the adrenaline. You try to fight on that ankle again, you're risking greater damage."

She huffs, slightly more resigned this time. Just one night with Micah has taken their relationship to another level. Any idiot can tell—the fleeting looks, the pink-dusted cheeks, the lingering touches.

She trusts him. And he'd do anything for her.

"Hey, angel," Micah says, walking into the living room with a plate of sandwiches. "It's time for your pain meds. Can you eat something first?"

It's the most placid she's been in hours—sprawled across the couch, her ankle elevated in my lap while we watch the news. I expect her to reach for her notepad when, instead, she signs. The single word is basic enough that even I understand.

Maybe.

Micah and I share a look, intrigued. I feel myself grinning.

"You trying to bargain, sweetness?" I ask.

She shrugs mischievously.

"Hm …" I growl, running my hand up her calf. "Better give us your terms, then."

She turns her attention to Micah, signing slowly. My inner alpha grumbles at me to keep up.

Talk … first. Eat … later ?

I frown. Do I have that right?

Micah looks equally uncertain, and so, with a sigh, Faith picks up her notepad.

I'LL TAKE MY MEDS - AFTER WE TALK ABOUT AXE.

No matter how many times we tell her—no fieldwork until she's better—the message just won't sink in. "Faith …" Micah starts.

JUST TALK .

I'm not sure what Faith wants to tell us that we don't already know, but if she thinks it's important enough to withhold her pain meds, then I'm willing to hear her out.

She explains, I CAN'T SIT HERE DOING NOTHING. AND YOU MIGHT AS WELL KNOW THE DETAILS.

I frown. "Details?"

AXE. THE RING. EVERYTHING I HAVEN'T TOLD CALEB.

Micah bristles. "You've been keeping things from Caleb?"

She hesitates, then answers, HE DIDN'T ASK.

Fair enough. The perfect conversation, according to our head alpha, would consist purely of ‘yes' and ‘no' answers. At first I thought that made him and Faith perfect for each other, but now I'm not so sure.

"I'm listening, sweetheart," I tell her at last. "Ready when you are."

Micah nods, determined.

Faith spins the pen around her fingers. She takes a breath.

And she writes.