Page 46 of Noah

“Thanks,” I said to Cooper, meeting his gaze. “I owe you one.”

Cooper gave me a slight nod, his expression inscrutable. “Keep your brother in check, Jackson. Next time, I might not be so inclined to intervene.”

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving me to face Hudson. Beck stood nearby, his expression a mix of relief and frustration.

“What the hell were you thinking?” I asked Hudson, my voice low but sharp.

Hudson shrugged, looking more defiant than apologetic. “You told me to take responsibility.”

“This isn’t what I meant,” I said, my patience wearing thin. “You could have gotten us all into a fight we didn’t need.”

Hudson opened his mouth to retort, but Beck stepped in, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Come on, let’s just get out of here,” Beck said.

Hudson grumbled but didn’t argue, following Beck back toward the pack house. I stayed behind for a moment, letting the cool morning air calm my racing heart.

Damn it, Hudson. Why did everything have to be a battle with him? And why did I always have to be the one to clean up the mess?

Chapter 13

Noah

The scentof sizzling bacon and fresh coffee filled my apartment, wrapping around me like a warm embrace.

But what truly caught my attention wasn’t the breakfast itself—it was Jackson standing in my kitchen, moving with a confidence that left me utterly mesmerized.

I leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching as he flipped pancakes with an ease that spoke of experience.

“I didn’t know you could cook,” I commented.

Jackson shot me a grin over his shoulder. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me yet.”

Yet. The word sent a pleasant shiver down my spine. When he turned back to the stove, I let my gaze linger.

I took in the way the morning light traced the strong lines of his back, the way he moved with effortless control.

It was such a simple thing—cooking breakfast—but somehow, it felt… intimate.

Like this was something we could do every morning, waking up together, sharing these quiet moments before the day pulled us in different directions.

When he finally plated everything and set it in front of me, I had to admit—I was impressed.

“This looks amazing,” I said, eyeing the golden pancakes, the crisp bacon, and the perfectly scrambled eggs.

Jackson smirked. “I accept compliments in the form of kisses.”

I rolled my eyes but leaned in anyway, pressing a slow kiss to the corner of his mouth.

His lips curved under mine, and for a moment, I was tempted to abandon breakfast altogether.

But the rumble of my stomach betrayed me, and Jackson chuckled, pulling back just enough to let me eat.

As I took my first bite, I let out a satisfied hum.

“Okay, you might be better at this than me,” I told him.

“Might?” he teased, arching an eyebrow.

“Fine, you are better than me,” I conceded, shaking my head. “I’m almost insulted.”

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