Chapter 2 - Jack

The sunlight slices through the blinds like it’s got a personal vendetta against me. My head pounds in sync with my heartbeat, and every thud is a reminder that I am officially too old to be drinking like I’m twenty-one, trying to forget a bad breakup. I groan, burying my face in the pillow, but there’s no escaping it. I feel like I got hit by a truck—and the truck backed up just to make sure the job was done.

“Never again,” I mumble into the fabric, though it’s not the first time I’ve made that promise to myself. Probably won’t be the last, either. But seriously, never again.

I drag myself upright, moving in slow motion like if I move too fast, my brain might actually explode. The room spins a little, and I squeeze my eyes shut, willing it to stop.

My phone buzzes on the nightstand, rattling against the wood with a sound that goes straight to the center of my skull. I flinch, grabbing it more out of instinct than desire. Reiner’s name flashes on the screen, and I can already hear his disapproving sigh before I even answer.

“Yeah?” I croak out.

“You sound like shit,” Reiner says by way of greeting.

“Feel like it, too.” I rub a hand over my face, trying to scrub away the remnants of last night. “What’s up?”

“We’ve got a mission run today, remember? Alpha Evan wants us to check the border near the river, make sure everything’s clear.” He pauses, and I can hear him breathing on the other end, that heavy, judgmental inhale he does when he’s about to say something I’m not gonna like. “Also, what the hell happened last night? Betsy told me there was some kind of altercation.”

I sigh, leaning back against the headboard. I’d hoped maybe last night’s mess would just fade into the background noise of the bar, but of course Reiner’s already on top of it.

“It was nothing,” I tell him, even though I know that deflection isn’t going to fly. “Just Tanner being Tanner. Sonya, Jane’s friend that just moved to town, got mad. Words were exchanged, that’s all.”

Reiner snorts. “Yeah, Betsy said you were right in the middle of it. You’ve got to get a grip, Jack. You’re not a kid anymore.”

“There it is,” I mutter, rolling my eyes even though he can’t see it. The lecture. The one I can practically recite in my sleep. Reiner’s been like this ever since he settled down, like he’s suddenly the spokesperson for responsibility and maturity. “I’m fine,” I add. “It’s not like anyone got hurt.”

“That’s not the point. You’re thirty, Jack. You can’t keep doing this shit forever.”

“Who says I want to?” I shoot back, irritation flaring in my chest. “I’m just having fun. Not everyone wants the family life, Reiner. Not everyone’s looking for a mate and kids and all that.” The words come out more defensive than I intended, but I don’t take them back.

He sighs, long and exasperated. “You say that now, but eventually, you’re going to have to grow up. This pack’s got no place for someone who’s just drifting through.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I grumble, pinching the bridge of my nose. “I’m not drifting. I’m just—”

“—not ready to settle down, I know,” Reiner finishes for me, and there’s a note of weariness in his voice that makes me feel like a petulant kid. “Look, just be careful, all right? And don’t let Tanner drag you into his crap. You’re better than that.”

“Right,” I say, not really agreeing but also not in the mood to keep arguing. “I’ll see you at the river.”

Reiner’s quiet for a moment, then he clears his throat. “And about Sonya…”

“What about her?” I ask a little too quickly. The image of her flashes in my mind—grey eyes that could pierce right through you if you weren’t careful, fiery red hair that’s always pulled back in some kind of no-nonsense style, and curves that she carries with an air of unapologetic confidence. She’s not like the other women I usually go for; there’s nothing easy or uncomplicated about her. She’s not just attractive—she’s intriguing, and that’s the kind of dangerous I’m not sure I want to mess with.

“She’s pissed, Jack. Jane says she got fired over that whole scene last night. I had to listen to my wife complain about it all morning at breakfast. They’re like sisters, you know. She thinks you should apologize to her.”

I sit up straighter, the dull throb in my head momentarily forgotten. “Fired? Seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously. And she’s probably blaming you for it.”

I frown, running a hand through my hair, the strands still sticking up from sleep. “Why the hell would she blame me? I didn’t do anything.”

Reiner makes a sound that’s somewhere between a sigh and a laugh, but it’s lacking any real humor. “Jack, you were there, and Tanner’s your friend. She probably thinks you’re all cut from the same cloth.”

“Well, she’s wrong,” I say sharply, though I’m not sure who I’m trying to convince. I replay last night in my mind, the way Sonya stood her ground against Tanner’s bullshit, fire blazing in her eyes. She’s always been like that—a goody-two-shoes with a spine of steel, never afraid to call out someone’s crap. It used to annoy me, but now… now I’m not so sure. Since she moved to Green Lake, that same spark of defiance has been on full display, and I can’t deny how hot it makes her.

“She’s mad, huh?” I say.

“Yeah, she’s mad. And for what it’s worth, she’s not wrong to be. Tanner’s an ass, but you didn’t exactly help the situation.”

I rub the back of my neck. “It’s not my job to babysit Tanner.”

“No, but it is your job not to make things worse,” Reiner snaps, his patience clearly wearing thin. “Sonya’s trying to make a life here, just like the rest of us. You could cut her some slack.”

“She never liked me,” I mutter, though even to my own ears, it sounds like a weak excuse. “She’s always got that look, like she’s just waiting for me to screw up so she can say, ‘I told you so.’”

“She hasn’t done anything wrong. Your defensiveness is not her problem, Jack. It’s yours.” Reiner’s voice softens just a fraction. “Look, you don’t have to like each other, but you don’t have to make her life harder, either. We’re all in this pack together. Just… think about it, okay?”

I sigh, leaning against the wall and staring at the ceiling. Reiner’s right, as much as I hate to admit it. Sonya’s not just some random face in the crowd; she’s part of the pack now, whether I like it or not. And yeah, maybe I could’ve done more, said something different, been less of a jackass. But I don’t know how to be anything else.

“I’ll think about it,” I finally say. “But I’m not promising anything.”

Reiner chuckles, a dry sound that doesn’t quite reach the usual warmth I’m used to. “That’s all I ask. See you at the river.”

“Yeah,” I reply, and once we hang up, I toss the phone onto the bed. My thoughts are still tangled up in Reiner’s words and the image of Sonya’s angry eyes from last night. I’ve never been good at taking responsibility, and I sure as hell don’t know how to start now. But maybe Reiner’s right. Maybe it’s time to figure it out before the pack decides they’ve had enough of my bullshit.

Still, I’m too tired to be lectured on responsibility, and I’m definitely not in the mood to dwell on Sonya’s pissed-off face. But the mission’s waiting, and if there’s one thing I’m not about to do, it’s give Reiner more reason to nag me.

I grab a water bottle from the fridge, gulping it down like it’s a lifeline. The cold hits my throat, waking me up a bit more, and I shake off the last dregs of my hangover. I’ve been on plenty of missions feeling worse than this, but I can’t afford to be off my game today. Not with Reiner breathing down my neck and Sonya’s fiery glare still lodged in my brain.

I throw on a clean shirt and grab my gear, mentally running through the route we’re supposed to take. Just a quick sweep of the border near the river, check for anything out of place, and report back. Easy enough. And if I can just get through this without Reiner’s judgment hanging over me, maybe I’ll figure out a way to set things right. Or at least not make them worse.

I’m halfway to the door when I notice something that makes me stop short. There’s a basket sitting on my doorstep, right next to the welcome mat that hasn’t welcomed anyone in weeks. For a second, I think maybe one of my packmates left something—groceries, a weird gift, who knows. But as I get closer, I hear it: a soft, gurgling noise, followed by a soft coo.

“What the hell?” I mutter, crouching down to get a better look. The basket is small, woven with a cheap, flimsy handle, and covered with a pale blue blanket. My heart skips a beat as I pull the blanket aside, revealing a tiny face peeking out at me with wide, curious eyes.

A baby. There’s a baby on my doorstep.

I stand up, rubbing my temples like maybe I’m still hungover and this is just some messed-up hallucination. But the kid’s still there, blinking up at me with eyes that are a little too familiar for comfort. I stare down at him as my mind scrambles for an explanation, but none of them make any sense. Who leaves a baby on a doorstep in the middle of the night? And why my doorstep?

My eyes catch on a piece of paper tucked under the edge of the blanket. I pull it out, unfolding it with shaky hands. The handwriting is rushed, almost frantic, and my gut clenches as I read:

Jack,

I’m sorry. I can’t do this. This is your daughter. Her name is Fiona. I’m not the mother she needs, but I know you’ll do right by her.

─Casey

The name hits me like a punch to the gut. Casey. I haven’t seen her in… God, it must be almost a year. We weren’t anything serious—just a fling that burned hot and fast before fizzling out. I hadn’t thought twice about it after she left town, assuming that was the end of it. And now she’s dumped a baby at my feet like I’m some kind of last resort.

I stare at the letter, then back at the baby—Fiona. My daughter. The words don’t even seem real, like they’re someone else’s story, not mine. But then Fiona lets out a soft whimper, and I see it. The tiny dimple in his cheek, the dark brown tuft of hair, the way her eyes—my eyes—stare right through me. There’s no denying it. This kid is mine, and Casey’s gone and made damn sure I’m the one stuck dealing with it.

I run a hand over my face, glancing around like maybe someone’s going to jump out and tell me this is all some elaborate prank. But the field in front of my cabin is empty.

“Okay, uh… hey, sweetheart,” I say awkwardly. “So, you’re Fiona, huh? And I’m… well, I’m your dad, I guess.”

Fiona stares up at me, unblinking, and I can feel panic creeping up my spine. I’ve faced down rogue shifters, handled high-stakes missions, but this? This is completely out of my league. I have no idea what I’m supposed to do with a baby, let alone one that’s been dumped on my doorstep with nothing but a half-assed apology and a name.

I pick up the basket carefully, as if it might break under my grip, and bring it inside, kicking the door shut behind me. Fiona looks around, her little head swiveling like she’s taking in every detail of the shabby living room that’s definitely not baby-friendly. I set the basket on the couch and run a hand through my hair, staring at her like she might suddenly start giving me answers.

“What the hell am I supposed to do now?” I mutter, more to myself than to Fiona. But Fiona just yawns, like she couldn’t care less about my existential crisis.

I glance at the letter again, rereading Casey’s words, looking for some kind of clue, some instruction manual for how to handle this. But there’s nothing. Just the vague, unhelpful assurance that I’ll “do right by her.”

“Yeah, sure, Casey,” I grumble, tossing the letter onto the coffee table. “Just drop her off and disappear. Real responsible.”

Fiona lets out a tiny noise somewhere between a coo and a cry, and I freeze. Is she hungry? Tired? Sick? I have no idea. I’m not cut out for this—never wanted to be, never planned to be. And yet, here I am, staring down at this little person who, somehow, is now my responsibility.

I wish my mom were here. She’d know what to do, know how to make sense of this whole mess. But I haven’t heard from her in years. After she left Green Lake, she just… disappeared. Guess she figured I didn’t need her anymore. But damn, could I use her now.

“All right, Fiona,” I begin, trying to keep my voice steady even though my hands are shaking. “I guess it’s you and me, huh?”

She blinks at me, his tiny fingers curling around the edge of the blanket, and it hits me all over again—this isn’t just some random baby. This is my kid. My daughter. And she’s counting on me to figure this out, to be the parent I never planned on being.

I take a deep breath, the weight of the moment pressing down on me like a heavy stone. I can feel my old life—the easygoing, carefree existence I’ve clung to for years—slipping away, replaced by something I don’t know how to handle.

I’m not ready for this. I don’t even know where to start. But as I look down at Fiona, her tiny face so full of innocent trust, I know I don’t have a choice.