Page 22 of Noah

“You’re the reason Hudson heard us in the first place,” I muttered, though the corner of my mouth betrayed me with the smallest hint of a smile.

Jackson clutched his sides, his laughter tapering into an easy chuckle. “Okay, fine. I’ll take the blame for that one. Man, Hudson chewed us out so bad.”

The memory hit me then—the two of us standing there, muddy and sheepish, as Hudson lectured us.

It was ridiculous, looking back. And for a moment, I couldn’t help it. I laughed.

It was brief, just a small burst, but enough to remind me how easy it was to fall into old rhythms with Jackson. Too easy.

I cleared my throat, trying to pull myself back together. “I should go. Ethan’s probably waiting for me.”

Jackson’s smile dimmed slightly, but he nodded. “Right. Sure.”

I turned and walked away, not daring to look back, though I could feel his gaze following me.

As I rounded the corner and put some distance between us, I let out a slow breath, gripping the binder tighter.

I had to keep my distance. Jackson was too good at getting under my skin, and if I wasn’t careful, I’d lose control of everything I’d been working so hard to hold together.

I nudged Ethan’s shoulder, holding out the clipboard like it was some kind of peace offering. “Hey, swap shifts with me today.”

Ethan glanced at the clipboard, raising an eyebrow as he scanned the list. His finger slid down the page until it stopped at my name. “You’re scheduled to assist with… uh, monitoring themeeting room? That’s, like, the easiest job here. Why on earth would you want to switch?”

I hesitated, scratching the back of my neck. “Uh…”

How was I supposed to explain it? That Miles had practically tailor-made my schedule to keep me tethered to the Silvercrest pack—aka Jackson—for the entire summit? It wasn’t like I’d asked for this.

At first, I thought I could handle it—oversee logistics, answer a few questions. Stay professional. Easy enough, right? Wrong.

Apparently, “professional” didn’t include practically living in their shadow 24/7, running errands like I was their personal assistant.

The memory hit like a lightning bolt, and I winced. It started with a call from their room—some need for an updated schedule.

I’d knocked, the door swung open, and there he was. Jackson. Fresh from a run. Half-naked. Sweaty.

Just standing there like he wasn’t breaking a hundred unspoken rules.

Of course, my brain decided to short-circuit at the worst possible moment. My face went hot, and I had to fight not to look at him.

The look on his face when I’d barked at him to just text me next time—or better yet, go down to the pack house himself if he wanted something—was priceless.

And I’d ruined it by slapping the schedule against his stupidly solid chest and bolting out of there before my brain had a chance to catch up.

And now? Every time I saw something as simple as condensation on a water bottle, I thought about that one bead of sweat trailing down his neck. And how much I wanted to?—

“Noah?” Ethan’s voice snapped me back to reality.

I blurted, “It’s important!” a little too loudly, my voice echoing down the corridor.

Ethan blinked, startled. “Uh, okay?”

Realizing I’d overreacted, I forced a laugh, though it came out awkward. “What I mean is… I’m just sick of being stuck indoors all day. You know how it is. Help me out?”

Ethan crossed his arms, giving me a skeptical look. “You’re acting weird.”

“Am not,” I muttered, already regretting everything.

Ethan groaned, snatching the clipboard from my hands. “Fine. But you owe me.”

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