Chapter 14

Jayce

We had to stop at the Best Buy in Houma for a Firestick. Agreeing to learn about these “sweet butts” on this show Shay apparently enjoys means I get to bring her to my home.

The built-in bookshelves I designed for my house never made sense to my taste and style until Shay told me she was a writer.

If she writes, she probably reads. I didn’t go into her bedroom at her apartment, so I can only hope she has a book collection to fill the empty shelves.

I park my truck in the parking lot where I keep my vehicle before escorting her to the one-story colonial house I call home.

Shay’s slip of the tongue regarding her feelings about kids relieves me. I didn’t build a house with as many bedrooms as most in the herd build.

Do I want children ?

Yes.

If she never wants kids, would I change my mind about her?

No.

Her feelings explain why she’s thirty-two and her clock has never ticked.

“I didn’t realize you lived next door to Anjal,” Shay said.

I nod toward the other houses. “Damian is on the other side of Anjal, and Nikolaos is on that side of me. We’re cousins by blood, but brothers by choice. It stings that most of us will never have brothers. Only our females who choose a human life and have children are fortunate enough to have more than one son.”

At the mention of sons, Shay looks away into the distance.

“I hope you know how to set up this Firestick.” I change the subject because her comfort is important to me.

“Am I allowed to get the door?” She’s crossed her arms in defiance, but her tone’s laced with jest.

I race to open the door before she does. I can’t wait to show off my home—one day, our home.

Pride swells in my chest as I open the front door for Shay. Can she see the delight on my face?

The spacious living room greets us. The empty built-in bookshelves stretch from floor to ceiling. Just waiting for someone to fill them with well-loved books. The shelves whisper of a need for stories of far-off lands and distant adventures.

On the back wall in the living room, a wall without a bookshelf stands out.

I lead her closer. “This is my dream wall.” I motion my hand like Vanna White over my meticulously arranged travel collage—a vibrant tapestry of destinations that sparks a wanderlust in my heart every time I look at it. Images of Venice’s serene canals, Rome’s ancient ruins bathed in golden sunlight, London’s bustling streets alive with culture, Parisian cafés bustling with life, the majestic ruins of Athens, the romantic allure of Casablanca, the iconic cliffs of Gibraltar, and other exotic locales I long to see, adorn the collage.

To me, each photograph captures a moment frozen in time. A testament to the beauty and diversity of the world. Places I must see in my lifetime.

Shay’s fingers lovingly stroke the images meticulously placed on the wall.

“I’ve been nowhere outside of Louisiana, but I will one day. I haven’t started checking off my bucket list because I don’t want to go alone.” I tell her over the bundle of nerves swimming in my gut.

Sunlight streams through the windows, casting a warm glow over the room. My home is a sanctuary of wonder and dreams. A place where every corner holds a story waiting to be told. We’re surrounded by echoes of adventures yet to come .

“How did you put this together so quickly?”

I furrow my brows and stuff my hands in my pockets. “What do you mean?”

Shay points at the wall of wonder. “You did this after I told you about my blog, didn’t you?”

I run a finger across one of the frames and pull it back, covered in dust. “If that’s the case, how do you explain the dust?”

She mimics the action on another frame, as if she needs to feel the particles and not just see them.

“Impossible.” She whispers.

“What’s impossible?”

She looks up at me. “I’ll never sit still. I’m nomadic. If I’m not moving, I’m restless.”

I shove my hands back in my pockets to resist cupping her cheeks. “I can work from anywhere. Everything I do is on my laptop.”

Her breath hitches. “Jayce, don’t make me promises you know will change when some other woman issues you the mating call.” A tear slips down her cheek.

How do I convince her no one is going to issue a mating call to me? She’s it for me. She’s my mate.

My bull pushes me to let him convince her, but using him is a last resort. I want her heart to persuade her of our destiny.

Shay grabs the box with the Firestick. It’s clear I’ve made her nervous. With her hands trembling, she struggles to open the box .

I flick open the knife I carry in my pocket and offer her the handle. She accepts it, slices through the tape like butter, closes it, and tries to hand it back to me.

I hold my hands up and step back.

She tilts her head to the side. “Did I do something wrong?”

"You always, always give back a knife exactly as they handed it to you. I gave it to you open, so you must give it back open.”

She rolls her eyes, still shoving it toward me closed. “You don’t really believe in superstitions, do you?”

“I respect superstitions.”

She doesn’t reopen the knife.

“It’s yours until you return it open.”

Shay huffs and slides it into the pocket of her shorts. “Fine. I’ve always wanted a pocketknife.”