Page 107 of Claiming Their Omega

That last bit makes me giggle, but I can tell that while he’s come up with a silly metaphor, he really is serious about how important it was for him. I kiss his jaw. “I’m sorry I couldn’t understand. That we didn’t communicate properly back then.”

Maybe things would’ve been different if we had. But then, I wanted to go into the publishing industry shortly after. The idea of having to leave Jesse and hurting him like that is terrible.

Maybe things worked out for the best the way they have, then.

“You know I don’t hold a grudge,” Jesse insists. “I just thought you would hate me forever for turning you down the way I did. And I didn’t know how to handle how much I wanted you. I overcompensated, pushed you away. And, well… I do really enjoy how sassy you get when you’re arguing with someone.”

I laugh softly. Then I sober up and take a deep breath. “I don’t want to fight with you. Not for real. I just worry. You know that’s all it is, right?”

Jesse exhales. “I just don’t want to lose anything I care about. That’s all.”

“Are you in danger of losing something you care about?”

“I don’t know. I’m afraid that I am.”

His words and the possessiveness in his tone make my chest tighten a little, and I don’t know what to say to that.

“You wouldn’t have fucked it up, if you had slept with me back then,” I whisper instead. “I’m sure about that.”

He chuckles roughly. “You’re sweet.”

“I’m honest.”

“I fucked it up with my dad’s ranch when he died,” Jesse points out. “I’m not perfect, Grace.”

“I never said you were. I don’t trust perfection, anyway. I dated an Alpha that everyone told me all the time was perfect, and look what an asshole he turned out to be.”

Jesse makes a noise in his chest, and I know him well enough by now to interpret the growl as a sign that he’d love to run into William again one day and leave a boot print on his ass for how he treated me.

“You didn’t fuck things up with your dad’s ranch either,” I say softly. “I don’t know all of the details, but I do know that you were grieving your father. It’s okay if you weren’t in your right state of mind and struggled after his death. It’s because you loved him, and because you’re human. Those things aren’t flaws, not really. And they’re not your fault.”

“Maybe not.” He sighs. “I just know this whole place would’ve gone under if Easton hadn’t made the sacrifice to—”

“To join your ranches together? Easton doesn’t see that as a sacrifice,” I say firmly. “I know that for sure.”

Even if I don’t know any other details, I know that Easton could never look at what he did as a sacrifice. They’re a pack. It’s natural that they should join their ranches together and live together, especially if it would help one of his closest friends.

“You weren’t failing anything.” I draw back a little so that I can look him in the eyes. “You just needed good people around you. The right people. Nobody can do something like running a ranch alone, especially when they’re grieving. You just needed your pack, and look at what you’ve all done together. You’ve made Coyote Ridge a great success.”

Jesse’s expression softens, warmth gleaming in his hazel eyes. “Yeah. I guess so. Thank you, wildcard. It means a lot to hear you say that.”

I take a deep breath. “I don’t want any of you to go through something alone. I want to be there for you. So… please? Please tell me what’s going on with the McAllisters?”

Jesse looks at me for a long moment, his gaze intense but not angry this time. “I just don’t want you upset.”

“I’m already upset,” I point out gently.

He shakes his head. “No, I meant… I don’t want you blaming yourself.”

I frown. “What do you mean?”

Jesse sighs. He stares into the middle distance, not looking at me directly. “The thing is… the reason the McAllisters don’t like us—why they hate us, really—is because this whole thing started over a fight for you.”

My heart speeds up, thumping loudly in my chest. “What?”

Out of all the possible explanations I could have thought of as to why the McAllisters and Jesse and his pack don’t get along, this never would’ve occurred to me. It seems ludicrous.

“Did I insult them?” I ask, wracking my brain to figure out what I could have done.

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