Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

Athena

The kiddos are sprawled out on blowup mattresses in the living room, their limbs tangled with their cousins', blankets printed with brightly patterned children's television show characters tucked in around their little bodies.

It's a beautiful sight, one that tugs at even my hardened-to-ice heart.

Innocent and loved and protected.

Unlike what I had?—

I clamp my teeth together, nearly taking off my own finger as I shove one of Martha's homemade oat cookies into my mouth.

Oat and cookie.

Those things don't sound like they should go together and taste like anything but sawdust, but Martha Jackson—matriarch of this family of blood and friendship—is a fantastic cook.

It's why I keep visiting them.

Not the only reason, of course—though it definitely drew me in the door in the first place and made it so I didn't complain all that much when Lex initially dragged me along on a Jackson family vacation almost a decade ago.

He's a sneaky bastard who had primed the dragging by bringing cinnamon rolls into the break room at work—cinnamon rolls that disappeared faster than our former boss during a team building exercise.

Ooey, gooey, and deliciously buttery. Add in being topped with a thick orange-zest and cream cheese frosting and…

Well, there's a reason Martha gives me a freezer full of them every Christmas.

And why I always send her for a full body spa day in return.

I set the cookie down and take a swig of my beer, trying to focus on cinnamon rolls and apple oat cookies.

Which is…moderately successful.

Mostly because the past is a clingy bitch. Being here. On the West Coast. In the Bay Area…

It brings back long-buried enemies.

This is where I grew up.

Before we swapped coasts, and before things got really bad there…they were bad here .

But even with that in my head, I know needed this change, needed the chance to work on this case, and as much as I miss the day-to-day with Lex—we were partners in the FBI together for ten years, for God's sake—it's good to have a fresh start.

My life here is long over.

My demons are back East.

Along with Lex.

Because now he has Frankie. Hell, all the Jacksons on the East Coast are matched up and blissfully happy and…

That's not my future.

Sighing, I clench my back teeth together and deliberately pick up my cookie, taking small bites until it's gone, until I'm focused on anything that isn't…

Well, that isn't my family. My past. And…what I won't ever have.

Luckily, with the Jacksons around, that's not all that hard.

Six brothers (though Lex isn't technically a bio-relative, he's more like me—swept into the fold and not let go). A movie star adopted sister. Five daughters by marriage and a gaggle of kids.

Which means there's always something interesting happening.

Like Cam—who's grown into his adult body and is somehow sporting even more muscles since the last time I saw him—getting noogies from Carter. And then Chance. And Connor. And Caleb. And…Lex, who can't resist joining in.

Cam takes the teasing good-naturedly for a few minutes thenbats them away, "Well at least I can actually lift more than five pounds in the gym." He pats Lex's flat stomach, pokes at Carter's side. "You guys have been packing the pounds ever since you got hitched?—"

Lex growls and I smother a smile, knowing he's sensitive about his not-so-six-pack since he hooked up with Frankie. The funny part is that she owns a health store, so it should be easy. Unfortunately for Lex, she's also a great cook, along with Martha and Sophie, and all the Jackson daughters by marriage. None of which is easy on the waistline.

It's only because of my recent transfer to the Oakland office that I've managed to continue to fit into my jeans.

But I'm not above buying a size up either.

"You're dead," Lex mutters, taking a step toward Cam.

Who, grinning, darts away, hustling across the kitchen to Martha. He wraps his arms around her from behind. "Save me, Mom!"

She tilts her head back and lifts on tiptoe to press a kiss to his stubble-covered cheek. "I love you."

My heart pulses—because it's sweet and heartfelt and it's the truth. And also because Martha barely gets the words out before I realize that Chance has sneaked up behind Cam. With a growl, he scoops his littlest brother up like a sack of potatoes and starts hauling him from the room.

"Ack!" Cam grunts, arms and legs flying. " Chance! "

"Nice try, bubby," Martha says, moving between the flying limbs with all the experience of a mom of eight. She pats him on the cheek. "But you created this monster, so now you get to pay the piper?—"

With another grunt, Cam executes a move that has my law enforcement heart lurching in my chest—because it's fucking impressive and shows exactly how strong the youngest Jackson brother has gotten.

And handsome.

That smirk. The stubble. The gorgeous hazel eyes. The ass that any woman would be lucky enough to grab on to as he plunged deep and hard and?—

What the actual fuck?

I nearly bite my fingers off again.

The cookie in my mouth turns to sawdust.

Was I actually thinking about little Cam Jackson like?—

My stomach starts churning.

Nope. Cam is little Cam . Abjectly handsome and good-looking like all the Jacksons, but definitely not sexy, definitely not in possession of a gorgeous ass I get a glimpse of as he wrestles with Lex?—

Holy hell .

His ass is just an ass.

That's it.

And that's why I turn away from the sight of the youngest Jackson, searching out my coat and purse—it's just an ass. One that has no effect on me.

Nope.

No effect whatsoever.

"You okay, honey?"

I still, my arms halfway into my jacket, and look up at the only woman who's ever called me honey. "Yeah, Martha," I tell her. "I just have an early morning tomorrow."

"Early morning on vacation?"

I still at the voice that trails like fingers down my spine and turn to see Cam, looking a little disheveled from his scuffle with his brothers, but whole as he strides toward us. His smile is sexy and confident and?—

Stop.

"Early morning at work," I quietly correct. "Not vacation."

His brows drag together. "Work?" He glances over his shoulder at Lex. "Are you guys working a case?"

"Didn't I tell you, baby?" Martha says, moving toward him and looping her arm around his waist. "Ats"—because Martha always calls me by my nickname of choice, because of course she does—"transferred to the Oakland office a couple of months ago."

Now his brows shoot up. "Months?"

I don't miss the hint of accusation in his tone or in his gorgeous Jackson-hazel eyes—nor the confusion because if anyone else in this family I've been folded into had moved to the same city as the team he plays for, he would know about it.

But…I'm me.

I keep my distance. It's the only way I know how to live.

"I'm just now getting settled in," I prevaricate, trying to shove down another blip of guilt. "I had a case I was wrapping up that required a lot of travel and then the move and?—"

The accusation doesn't disappear like I hope.

In fact, it seems to grow.

As does the guilt.

You'll never be part of them. Not really.

The voice in my mind slices deep and it takes everything in me to not close my eyes, to not hold myself still, to not wait until the pain fades. Instead, I just keep my shields in place and press on. "I'm settled in now, though, so the timing worked out perfectly when your mom invited me to watch the game and surprise you tonight. I got to see you play some hockey in person—which was impressive by the way— and I got baked goods. Win-win."

He frowns, but I don't acknowledge it.

Noise increases from the kitchen, drawing Martha's focus.

"Night," I tell her. "Thanks for the yummy food." I move in and hug her tight before she shooing her away so she can head into the kitchen and negotiate a truce between Carter and Caleb.

My lips curl up at the edges.

The Jackson brothers.

Chaos personified.

Always.

But when I turn to Cam any amusement in my belly fades.

"Thanks for letting us invade your house," I say softly.

He studies me for a blip too long and I can't miss the hurt in his eyes.

Shit.

I fucked up. I should have told him and?—

His face clears as he hitches a thumb over his shoulder. His smile is normal, and relief floods my insides. I can't bear to hurt him, can't bear to hurt any of them.

"You're welcome anytime," he says, hugging me briefly and I feel that blip in my stomach again, as though I'm riding a roller coaster, cresting the first rise just before the big drop, waiting for the rest of the cars to catch up before we fly. "As if I ever had a choice with this crew."

"True. There's no stopping a Jackson invasion," I agree, ignoring that rollercoaster inside me even as I step back and grin at him. My heart is pounding, and my palms are sweaty.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

He leans back against the wall and crosses his arms, causing the muscles beneath his short-sleeved shirt to stand out sharply in relief. "I accepted that long ago," he says lightly.

My body drifts towards his and the slightly spicy scent of him fills my senses.

I want to lean closer.

To inhale deeply.

To touch and kiss and?—

Seriously.

What. The. Fuck?

I straighten and panic has my hands shaking as I zip up my jacket. "Well, I, um—" I clear my throat. "I need to head out. I'll see ya around." I settle my purse on my shoulder and start for the door, not realizing he's followed me until he reaches past me and opens the wooden panel.

I still, feeling…

Nope.

Not feeling anything .

"You know how to get home?" he asks quietly.

"Yup," I say tartly as I step out onto the porch. "New to the area, but not new to Google Maps."

"Noted." He lifts his palms, mouth curved, clearly picking up on my tone. But one has to be careful with these Jacksons. Give them an inch and pretty soon you're part of a family of more than twenty nosy nellies.

Speaking of which, I need to go.

But something keeps my feet glued to the concrete of the porch. "You played good tonight," I say then freeze when something crosses his face. Something like?—

Pain .

Cam Jackson is in pain.

"What is it?" I ask, heart kicking against my rib cage. "Did you get hurt in the game?"

Just that quickly, the emotion is gone, tucked away, shoved down, and…fuck, if that doesn't make me want to rage against the world. He shouldn't have to bury his emotions, shouldn't have to hide.

Not Cam.

He's good.

Which might be why I do something stupid.

Something that sends me down a slippery slope of inevitability.

It's why—instead of leaving—I close the distance between us and…

Hug him tightly.