Page 19 of Final Drive

For a man who rations words like they’re coming out of his own bank account, it’s almost too much at once.

I kiss him because I don’t trust my voice. Jackson lets me, one hand sliding into my wet hair, and when I pull back, he doesn’t look away.

“That’s what I needed,” I admit.

“I know.”

“Don’t ruin it.”

His mouth twitches. “Wasn’t going to.”

We stay quiet for another minute, his hand moving lazily over my back while the last of the bond-high settles between us.

“So what’s actually wrong?” he asks.

“What?”

“At dinner. You weren’t overwhelmed because six of us haven’t bitten you yet.”

“You seem very sure.”

“I can feel you, remember?”

“Still terrifying.”

“Reese.”

I let my head fall back against the tile. “The reporter today. The way she asked her questions. It felt like she already had the answers.”

“Answers about what?”

“Me. Us. The pack.” I hesitate, because this is the part I haven’t told most of them. “And Gray’s father threatened to take it to the media. Two weeks, he said. That clock started yesterday. Then a reporter turns up on our dock asking me about bonds.”

Jackson’s face goes hard. “Harrison Lockwood is a piece of shit.”

“He’s a piece of shit with connections and money and a grudge against his own son.”

“Then we handle it.”

“You make that sound easy.”

“I didn’t say easy.” His hand tightens on my hip. “I said we. That’s what pack means, Reese. You don’t get to carry this by yourself.”

I want to believe him. I want to believe eight men can stand between me and whatever’s coming without destroying themselves in the process, but I’ve been the reason a team came apart before. I know exactly what it looks like from the inside.

“You’re thinking about Westlake.”

My eyes snap to his.

“You get that look every time you decide history’s about to repeat itself.”

“Get out of my head.”

“Can’t. It goes both ways.” He kisses my throat. “You wanted me knowing what Meredith did. Let me want you knowing what they did.”

The water is cold and I don’t care. I’m warm where it counts, his body against mine, his knot still holding us together, his words going into places I’ve been hollow since long before Sable Ridge.

“Okay,” I say.