Page 32 of Jesse
“I’m fine,” I said quickly, shaking him off. We’d sold out, worked hard, done everything we could. And it still wasn’t enough.
I forced myself to smile, to keep my face neutral as the winners celebrated. But inside, all I could think was, what did we do wrong?
Chapter 8
Jesse
We weren’tin the top five. Not even a mention.
A dull buzzing filled my ears, drowning out the noise of the crowd cheering for the winners. My jaw clenched.
I turned my back to the stage, the list of names that mocked me still burned behind my eyes.
I couldn't look at Beck. Couldn’t stand the idea of seeing disappointment on his face, even if it wasn’t directed at me.
The truck suddenly felt too small, too hot, too loud. The walls were closing in and every inch of space felt like it was pressing down on my skin.
“I need a break,” I muttered, voice tight, refusing to meet Beck’s gaze.
Without waiting for a response, I shoved the door open and stepped out into the cool evening air. I didn’t know where I was going, just that I had to move.
I pushed past groups of festival-goers laughing with their plates of award-winning food.
Past strings of glowing lights and music, past the smell of caramel corn and grilled meat that now made my stomach churn.
Eventually, the noise and color faded behind me, and I found myself ducking into the wooded area behind the fairgrounds.
The quiet hit me all at once. My shoulders dropped slightly.
The trees swallowed the sound of celebration, and the soft rustle of leaves above was a balm against the chaos still ringing in my chest.
I braced a hand against a tree trunk, letting my forehead rest against the rough bark. My other hand curled into a fist at my side.
My wolf stirred beneath my skin, restless and tense. He hated losing. Hated being judged. Hated being seen and found lacking.
After all that planning, all that testing, all that confidence I’d spewed, not just to Beck, but to everyone, we didn’t even place.
I tried to run through what went wrong. Maybe we didn’t plate fast enough. Maybe we clashed too much. Maybe our flavors were too out there, too bold. Maybe?—
God. I was spiraling again. My wolf growled low, agitated, and I gritted my teeth.
But it wasn’t just about losing. I’d dragged Beck into this, promising we’d kill it, promising we’d blow the judges away. Hell, I believed it. And now?
I hadn’t just failed myself, I’d failed him too. Footsteps crunched on the dried leaves behind me. My spine went rigid, instinct flaring.
I didn’t want to talk to anyone. Not now. Not when everything was raw and tight in my chest.
But then Beck’s scent rolled in. It was warm, clean, something faintly sweet and grounding like fresh herbs in sun-warmed soil.
My shoulders loosened instantly. My wolf let out a quiet huff, calming a notch.
“Hey,” Beck said softly. “You okay?”
I stayed facing the tree. “Yeah,” I lied. “Just needed some air. Got hot all of a sudden in that truck.”
“Uh-huh,” he said, clearly not buying it.
I turned around reluctantly. He stood a few feet away, hands in his pockets, looking more relaxed than I expected. His brows were still slightly drawn, but he wasn’t angry.
