Page 51 of Jesse
I wasn’t ready for that. I couldn’t let this slip through my fingers, not the competition, not the chance to prove myself, and not the connection I was starting to feel with Jesse.
So I shrugged like it was no big deal and forced a grin. “Besides, it’s not like anything actually happened. No harm, no foul, right?”
Jesse didn’t look convinced. If anything, the intensity in his gaze only grew as he studied me.
For a moment, I thought he might press the issue, but instead, he let out a sigh and nodded, though his expression didn’t soften.
“Alright,” he said finally, his voice quieter, almost subdued. “But if anything else happens, you tell me. Right away.”
“I will,” I promised, hoping he wouldn’t catch the slight hesitation in my tone.
We moved to the kitchen table, where I’d laid out the food. Jesse picked at his sandwich and I tried to focus on my own meal.
The quiet stretched on, broken only by the occasional clink of a plate or the hum of the fridge.
My wolf, usually restless, was unusually still.
Jesse’s voice finally broke the silence. “You don’t have to handle everything alone.”
I met his eyes and forced a nod. “I’m not.”
He didn’t push, but the concern in his gaze stayed with me long after the meal ended.
Chapter 13
Jesse
The crowd had finally startedto thin after the dinner rush. The air still carried the scent of smoked meat and fried dough, but the noise had dimmed to a soft hum.
Most of the food trucks had started packing up for the night, but I wasn’t in a hurry.
I’d cleaned down the grill, covered the prep tables, and switched off the burners. The only thing left running was the low glow of our string lights and the gentle flicker from the food truck sign.
Beck had fallen asleep on one of the benches outside the truck. I didn’t have the heart to wake him. He was curled up on his side, hoodie bunched beneath his head, arms tucked close to his chest.
One of our emergency blankets, which we usually reserved for rainstorms or dropped plates, was draped haphazardly over him.
His breathing was soft, steady. Peaceful. It made my chest ache. I leaned against the truck’s open window and just watched him for a moment.
His face, usually so expressive, was relaxed in sleep. A faint smudge of powdered sugar lingered near his cheekbone, leftover from the funnel cake we split an hour ago.
His shoes were kicked off beneath the bench. He looked safe. Comfortable.
That feeling of feeling safe was something I couldn’t stop chasing when it came to him. But it was fragile. Illusory. Because yesterday, Beck told me he thought someone was following him.
He said it lightly, brushing it off like it wasn’t a big deal. Maybe it wasn’t. But my gut told me otherwise. And worse, so did my wolf.
That deep, primal instinct inside me had gone on alert the moment Beck said those words, and it hadn’t quieted since.
Now, watching him sleep like nothing was wrong made my chest feel too tight and I had to do more. I ducked back inside the truck and pulled out my phone. The battery was at 18%, but I didn’t care.
I hit Tony’s name in my contacts and stepped around to the far side of the truck, pacing beside the closed service window.
He answered on the second ring. “Tony here.”
“You up?” I asked, keeping my voice low but tense.
“It’s me. Of course I’m up,” he replied. “What’s going on?”
