Chapter 111
Ellie's POV
The words felt strange coming out of my mouth, so adult and matter-of-fact. But the mate bond had changed something fundamental in me. I couldn't keep acting like a child who needed her parents to make all her decisions. This was my life, my relationship, my future.
Mom held my gaze for what felt like an eternity. Then, slowly, she nodded.
"Alright," she said softly. "I can see this Jackson has had some influence on you. You've grown up." There was a note of surprise in her voice, but also... acceptance? "That's good. You'll need that maturity for what's ahead."
Relief washed over me so intensely that I felt tears prick at my eyes. She was starting to understand. She was starting to trust my judgment.
Dad caught my eye in the mirror and gave me a small, encouraging smile. I smiled back, feeling like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders.
We drove in silence for several minutes, the tension in the car gradually easing. I watched the winter landscape blur past—bare trees dusted with snow, fields stretching out toward the horizon, everything painted in shades of white and grey.
Then Mom spoke again, her voice different—softer, almost curious.
"Invite Jackson to spend Christmas with us."
I nearly choked on my own breath. "What?"
She turned to face forward, her posture relaxing into the seat. "You heard me. Invite him to our house for Christmas. Your father and I need to get to know him properly. If he's really your mate..." She paused, and I saw her exchange a meaningful glance with Dad. "Then he's going to be part of this family. We need to make sure he's... suitable."
"Sarah's right," Dad added, his tone becoming more serious. "You need to understand something, sweetheart. Wolf mates aren't like human boyfriends. This isn't something casual that might end after a few months. The bond between mates is for life—or at least, it's meant to be."
He paused at a red light and turned to look at me fully, his expression grave. "That's why we need to observe him, talk to him, understand what kind of man he is. Because if he's not right for you... it's better to know now. Before the bond deepens further."
My stomach twisted uncomfortably. "What do you mean, 'if he's not right'?"
Dad's eyes were gentle but firm. "Mates can refuse each other, Ellie. It's rare, and it's painful, but it's possible. If there are fundamental incompatibilities—if he can't protect you properly, if his values don't align with ours, if he poses a danger to our family's safety—then separation might be necessary."
No.
Thalia erupted inside me, a fierce, protective snarl that reverberated through my entire being. The very idea of rejecting Jackson made her—made me—physically ill. I pressed a hand to my stomach, fighting down a wave of nausea.
"That won't be necessary," I said through gritted teeth. "Jackson is perfect for me."
"We'll see," Mom said quietly. "That's what Christmas is for."
I wanted to argue, wanted to defend Jackson against their scrutiny and judgment. But another part of me—the rational part that understood my parents were trying to protect me—knew they had a right to be cautious.
They didn't know Jackson like I did. They hadn't seen his gentleness, his fierce protectiveness, the way he'd risked everything to save me last night. They hadn't felt the rightness of the mate bond, the way our souls seemed to recognize each other.
But they would. Over Christmas, they'd see what I saw. They'd understand why Jackson was the only one for me.
I pulled out my phone, fingers hovering over Jackson's contact. Should I text him now? Warn him that he was about to undergo the most intense family interrogation of his life?
He'll understand, I told myself. He knows how important family is to wolves. He'll want to do this right.
Before I could type anything, another message from him popped up—a photo of the sunrise over Blue Water Lake, with the caption: Missing you already. Drive safe.
My heart clenched, and I smiled despite my anxiety. How could my parents not see how perfect he was?
"So," Dad said, breaking into my thoughts as he navigated onto the exit toward Mapleton. "Tell us more about this Jackson. What's his major? His family situation? You said he's pre-med, right?"
I tucked my phone away and leaned forward between the front seats, ready to paint the picture of the man who'd stolen my heart.
"He's studying to be a doctor," I began, warmth filling my voice. "Specifically, he wants to specialize in emergency medicine. He's incredibly smart, Mom—like, scholarship smart. And he's also the president of the Dance Society at CVU."
"Dance Society?" Mom's eyebrows rose with interest. "So he shares your passion for dance?"
"Yes, he does street dance. That's actually how we got closer—he choreographed this amazing duet for the university's 150th anniversary celebration." I couldn't keep the smile off my face as I remembered that performance, the way our bodies had moved together in perfect synchronization.
Dad was nodding thoughtfully. "And his family? What do they do?"
My smile faltered slightly. This was the complicated part. "His family... they're from Spain originally. The Martinez family—they're pretty well-known in certain circles. His parents passed away when he was young, so his maternal uncle Miles raised him."
I deliberately left out the part about the Martinez pack, about Jackson being heir to an Alpha position he didn't want. That was his story to tell, not mine.
"Spain," Mom murmured, her expression thoughtful. "That's quite far. Does he have any other family here in the States?"
"His cousin Isabelle is recently running a community health center project on the outskirts of town that I'm doing some contract work for." I decided to focus on the positive—on Jackson's connections to meaningful work, his commitment to helping others.
The SUV turned onto the familiar streets of Mapleton, passing the small downtown area I'd grown up knowing. Everything looked exactly the same as when I'd left for college, but I felt completely different.
So much had changed in just a few months.
"That community health center project," Dad said, pulling into our driveway. "Tell me more about that."