Chapter 120
Ellie's POV
Jackson's hand was warm in mine as we wandered through the crowd. I could feel his contentment—a low, steady hum that matched my own happiness. It was such a change from the anxiety I'd felt earlier at dinner, worrying about how my parents would react to him.
Safe, Thalia murmured in my mind. Our mate. Our pack.
"Look at that," Jackson said, stopping in front of a stall displaying hand-carved wooden ornaments. The vendor, an elderly woman with kind eyes, smiled as Jackson picked up a delicate snowflake, its intricate patterns catching the light. "This reminds me of you."
My cheeks warmed. "A snowflake?"
"Unique. Beautiful. One of a kind." He paid for it before I could protest, then gently fastened it around my neck. His fingers brushed against my skin, sending a shiver down my spine that had nothing to do with the cold.
The vendor chuckled. "You two make such a lovely couple. Young love at Christmas—there's nothing quite like it."
I felt my face burn hotter, but Jackson just smiled and thanked her, his hand finding mine again as we moved to the next stall.
"Hot chocolate?" he asked, nodding toward a cart where a woman was serving steaming mugs topped with whipped cream.
"With extra marshmallows?"
"Is there any other way?"
We were laughing, Jackson insisting on ordering the "special" with double marshmallows and a drizzle of caramel.
We bought roasted chestnuts from a vendor, sharing them as we walked. Jackson told me a ridiculous story about a disastrous Dance Society rehearsal, complete with sound effects, until I was laughing so hard I nearly dropped my chestnuts.
When I glanced at my phone, I was surprised to see it was already 9:45.
"We should probably head back," Jackson said, following my gaze. "Your mom said to be home by ten."
I couldn't help but laugh. "She was just saying that. Did you see how much she liked you? I honestly think if we didn't come back tonight, she'd be thrilled."
Jackson's expression turned thoughtful, a small smile playing at his lips. "Maybe for you. But I think they might have different standards for me as a... potential son-in-law."
He said the word deliberately, his eyes on mine, and my heart literally stopped.
Son-in-law. The word echoed in my mind, carrying weight I wasn't quite prepared for. It implied—well, it implied everything. A future. Permanence. Marriage.
My face must have shown my shock because Jackson's smile widened slightly, though I caught a flicker of uncertainty through our bond.
"Don't overthink it," he said quickly, squeezing my hand. "I just meant they're going to be more careful evaluating me than they would be with you. Making sure I'm good enough for their daughter."
But there was something in his eyes—a seriousness, a promise—that suggested he meant exactly what he'd said. That he was thinking about forever, just like I was.
We walked back to the parking lot hand in hand, my mind spinning with possibilities, my heart full of a sweet, terrifying hope.
When we got back to my house, we found my parents standing in the hallway outside the guest room, looking suspiciously busy.
"Oh!" Mom said when she saw us, her expression shifting to one that was half-embarrassed, half-pleased with herself. "Perfect timing. We were just trying to set up Jackson's room, but—well, the heater broke. And when we tried to fix it, we accidentally burst a pipe. The entire floor is soaked."
I peered around her into the guest room. Sure enough, water covered the hardwood floor, spreading across the carpet near the door.
But I also noticed the slightly guilty look in Mom's eyes, the way Dad was studiously avoiding my gaze.
They did this on purpose, I realized, heat flooding my face.
"Jackson," Dad said, clearing his throat, "it looks like you'll have to bunk with Ellie tonight. Her room has a perfectly good bed. You two can... um... sleep on opposite sides."
His tone was so deliberately casual that I wanted to sink through the floor.
"I appreciate the accommodation, sir," Jackson said smoothly, though I felt his amusement through the bond. "I'll be respectful."
"I know you will," Mom said, patting his arm. "You're a gentleman. Now, it's late, and you both must be tired. Go get some rest."
She practically shooed us toward my room, and I caught Dad winking at her as we left.
My childhood bedroom smelled like lavender and vanilla—Mom must have freshened it up. The bed was made with clean sheets, and my old stuffed animals were arranged neatly on the shelf. It looked exactly the way I'd left it when I went to college, and somehow being here with Jackson made it feel both familiar and completely new.
"They're not very subtle," I muttered, standing in the middle of the room.
Jackson laughed, setting his overnight bag down. "At least they like me."
"That's one way to look at it."
I turned to face him, suddenly aware of how small my room was, how close we were standing, how the mate bond was humming between us with an intensity that made my skin tingle.
"I'll take the floor," Jackson said, though his eyes—dark and intense—suggested he was fighting the same pull I felt.
"You don't have to—"
"I want to," he interrupted gently. "Your parents trust me. I'm not going to abuse that trust." He moved closer, and his hand came up to brush a strand of hair behind my ear. "But I'm right here if you need me."
Through the bond, I felt everything he wasn't saying—the desire, yes, but also the tenderness, the protectiveness, the absolute certainty that this was just the beginning of something that would last.
"Okay," I whispered.
He smiled—that soft, private smile that was just for me—and I knew that even though he'd be on the floor, even though we were being careful and respectful, everything had changed tonight.
The word son-in-law echoed in my mind again, and this time, instead of panic, I felt only warmth.