Chapter 118
Jackson's POV
Ellie shot me an apologetic glance before disappearing into the kitchen. The dining room suddenly felt smaller with just the three of us.
"Jackson, please, sit." David gestured to the couch by the fireplace. "We have a few minutes before dinner."
I sat, keeping my posture relaxed but attentive. Orion rumbled low in my consciousness: This is the test. Show them we're worthy of their daughter.
Sara settled into the armchair across from me while David took the couch's other end, close enough to feel protective but not aggressive. The fire crackled between us, casting dancing shadows.
"So," David began, his tone conversational but his gaze sharp. "Ellie tells us you're president of the Dance Society. That's quite an achievement for a medical student. How do you manage both?"
"Honestly? I don't sleep much," I said with a slight smile. "But I enjoy both, so it doesn't feel like work. Dancing helps me clear my head after studying all day."
Sara leaned forward slightly. "Ellie mentioned you reorganized the whole society when you took over. That must have been a lot of extra responsibility."
I nodded. "It was a bit chaotic at first—low membership, barely any budget. But I figured if I was going to be president, I might as well actually do something useful. Started a mentorship program, worked with the student council on funding. It's running pretty smoothly now."
"Smart," David said approvingly. "What made you choose CVU? Must have had other options."
"I did," I admitted. "But CVU had a good medical program, and honestly, I liked the campus when I visited. Felt like a place where I could actually focus on studying without too much... drama."
David chuckled. "College drama. That's real."
Sara tilted her head thoughtfully. "Medical school is expensive. Are you on scholarship, or...?"
"Full scholarship." I said.
"That's admirable," Sara said warmly.
"You seem very protective of our daughter," David said, his tone casual but his eyes watchful. "Ellie mentioned you've been looking out for her."
Here it is, Orion growled. The real question.
"I care about Ellie," I said simply. "She's smart, talented, and kind. Being around her makes me want to be better." I paused, meeting his gaze steadily. "I know we haven't known each other that long, but I've never felt this way about anyone."
Sara's expression softened completely. "That's sweet."
David studied me for another moment, then nodded slowly. "What are your plans after medical school? Doctors make good money—you thinking about private practice?"
"Maybe eventually," I said. "But first, I want to do emergency medicine. Probably work in smaller hospitals or rural areas—places that actually need doctors, you know? Not just chasing the big paychecks in the city."
"That's a good mindset," David said, his shoulders relaxing. "Though don't discount the big paychecks entirely. If you ever have kids, you'll find out real quick they're expensive little things—real money pits."
I laughed. "Fair point."
The kitchen door swung open, and Ellie appeared, her cheeks flushed. "Soup's ready," she announced, then caught the relaxed atmosphere in the room. Her eyes widened slightly. "Everything... okay?"
David stood with a warm smile. "Everything's perfect. Jackson was just telling us about his plans to become a small-town doctor."
"And somehow managing straight A's while running the Dance Society," Sara added, standing as well. "You didn't mention he was such an overachiever, Ellie."
Ellie's face went red. "I—he doesn't like to brag."
"I like him," David said simply, clapping me on the shoulder as he passed. "Come on, let's eat before Sara's roast gets cold."
The dining table was set beautifully—candles flickering, Christmas dishes gleaming, and at the center, a small tureen of golden soup that Ellie had made. As we sat down, I caught her anxious glance.
"So, Jackson," David said as Sara began serving the goose, "fair warning—this is Ellie's first time making soup. Last time she attempted cooking, we had to replace a pot."
"Dad!" Ellie protested, mortified.
"What? I'm just setting realistic expectations," David said with a grin. "Remember the pasta incident?"
"That was one time, and the instructions were unclear!"
I couldn't help but laugh. Sara ladled the soup into my bowl, and I took a careful sip. The butternut squash was perfectly smooth, the maple glaze adding depth without overpowering, and the walnuts provided just the right crunch.
"This is incredible," I said honestly, and watched Ellie's face transform from embarrassment to shy pleasure. "The flavor balance is perfect—sweet but not cloying, creamy without being heavy. You have real talent, Ellie."
David raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. "Did we get the wrong tureen? Is this actually from a restaurant?"
"David," Sara chided, but she was smiling.
"I'm serious!" David continued. "Jackson, you should know what you're getting into. This morning she was panicking about whether to use fresh or dried herbs."
"I wanted it to be good," Ellie mumbled, but she was fighting a smile now.
"It is good," I said, reaching under the table to briefly squeeze her hand. "Thank you for going to so much trouble."
"Well," Sara said with satisfaction, "I think we can officially say Ellie has graduated from kitchen disasters to kitchen competence."
The rest of dinner flowed easily. David told stories about Ellie's childhood attempts at baking, each one making her groan while Sara laughed. I found myself relaxing completely, the earlier tension dissolved by their genuine warmth.
As Sara brought out apple pie for dessert—"from a bakery, because we've had enough cooking adventures for one day"—David set down his coffee cup and looked at me thoughtfully.
"Jackson, you're planning to come back tomorrow for Christmas Day, correct?"
"Yes, sir," I said. "Ellie invited me for dinner."
"Then it seems silly for you to drive three hours back to your house tonight only to drive three hours back here in the morning," David said. "We have a guest room. Why don't you stay?"
I hesitated. "I was planning to get a hotel room nearby. I don't want to impose—"
"Hotel?" Sara looked genuinely offended. "On Christmas Eve? Absolutely not. The guest room is already made up, and you'd be doing us a favor—David won't have to worry about you driving mountain roads in the dark."
"Mom's right," Ellie said softly. "The roads get icy at night, and..." She trailed off, but I felt her hope that I'd stay.
"Besides," David added with a knowing smile, "you're practically family now. Family doesn't stay in hotels."
Practically family. The words hit me harder than expected. Orion rumbled contentedly: Home. This is home.
"If you're sure," I said, my throat suddenly tight. "Then thank you. I'd be honored."
Sara beamed. "Wonderful! Ellie, after dessert, why don't you show Jackson around town a bit? The Christmas market is open until ten—they have that ice sculpture display you wanted to see."
"Oh!" Ellie perked up. "I forgot about that. Jackson, would you want to—"
"We'd love some quiet time to watch our Christmas special anyway," David interrupted smoothly. "You young people go enjoy yourselves. Just be back by ten."
I caught the meaningful glance between David and Sara—they were deliberately giving us time alone. The realization warmed me even as Ellie's face flushed pink.
"Okay," she said softly, then looked at me. "If you want to?"
I smiled. "I'd love to see a small-town Christmas market."
As Sara cut into the pie, chatting about which vendors would be at the market, I felt the mate bond pulse warm and content between us. In the course of one evening, I'd gone from nervous outsider to welcomed guest—no, to "practically family."
Miles's words from earlier echoed distantly: What does Ellie's family bring to the table?
Looking around this warm dining room, at David's easy smile and Sara's genuine kindness, at Ellie's shy happiness, I had my answer.
They brought home. And that was worth more than any political alliance could ever be.