Chapter 146
Ellie's POV
So we did. Standing in the entryway, holding each other while the house settled around us and the winter darkness pressed against the windows. These quiet moments—just the two of us, away from campus and threats and the constant performance of normalcy—these were what made everything else bearable.
"How was your day?" Jackson asked eventually, his chin resting on top of my head.
"Exhausting in a completely different way than yours," I admitted. "I couldn't focus in class at all. Just kept scanning for threats that weren't there."
"Thalia's on high alert?"
"Constantly." I sighed. "And Lily and Megan cornered me again. They're worried."
Jackson's arms tightened slightly. "What did you tell them?"
"Same as always—stress from moving, new semester pressure." I pulled back to meet his eyes. "But they're not buying it anymore. They think..." I hesitated, then decided he should know. "They think maybe we're having relationship problems. That you might be one of those guys who changes after moving in together."
I'd meant it lightly, almost as a joke about how wrong their human assumptions were compared to our actual supernatural complications. But Jackson went very still, his expression shifting into something thoughtful.
"Jackson?"
He didn't respond immediately, just kept looking at me with that considering expression while one hand absently stroked my hair. The silence stretched long enough that I started to worry.
"I was kidding," I said quickly. "Obviously I don't think that. And I told them we're fine, that Megan was being ridiculous with her web novel theories—"
"Wait." Jackson's hand stilled in my hair. "What did Megan say exactly?"
"Just..." I waved a hand dismissively. "Typical romance novel stuff. That guys stop trying once they 'lock down' the girl. That you might be taking me for granted now that we're living together. She literally said you could be the type who abandons ship once things get serious."
I laughed a little, expecting Jackson to laugh with me at the absurdity.
He didn't.
Instead, his eyes got that distant, calculating look I'd seen when he was working through complex problems. His hand in my hair resumed its gentle stroking, but the movement felt almost absent now, like his mind was somewhere else entirely.
"Jackson? What's wrong? It was just Megan being Megan, with her theories about—"
"No," he said quietly, still in that thoughtful tone. "She's not wrong."
I pulled back further, confused. "What do you mean?"
His eyes refocused on me, and something in his expression made my stomach flip. Not fear, exactly, but recognition that whatever he was about to say would be significant.
"I could be that person," Jackson said slowly, each word deliberate. "I could be the guy who changes after moving in. Who starts pulling away, who seems to stop caring as much." His hand cupped my face gently. "If that's what people saw, if that's what everyone believed..."
Understanding hit me like cold water. "You want to fake relationship problems."
"Think about it, El." His voice gained certainty as he explained. "Caleb's watching us because you matter to me. Because he can see that you're important, which makes you leverage. But if we looked like we were falling apart—if people saw us fighting, spending less time together, growing distant—then you stop being useful to him. You stop being a target."
I stared at him, processing the implications. "You want us to pretend we're having issues. Publicly."
"Not breaking up," he clarified quickly. "Just... strained. Make it convincing enough that word gets back to Caleb that the relationship isn't as solid as it looked. That I'm pulling away, that you're unhappy, that we're barely holding things together."
His thumb traced my cheekbone, touch gentle even as his strategic mind worked through the details. "Here at home, we're fine. We're us. But out there, on campus where he can see..." Jackson's jaw set with determination. "I'll be whatever kind of guy I need to be to keep you safe. Even if it means looking like the asshole who takes his girlfriend for granted."
The words hung between us in the quiet house, this new plan taking shape—another layer of performance, another secret to maintain. But this time, the deception would hurt in a different way.
Because we'd have to convince not just Caleb, but our friends. People who cared about us, who'd worry and try to help and never understand why we were pushing each other away.
"El?" Jackson's voice was soft, uncertain. "Say something."
I looked at him—at this man who'd dive into frozen water to save me, who endured brutal training every morning to be strong enough to protect me, who was now willing to damage his own reputation and hurt our friends' feelings if it meant keeping me out of Caleb's crosshairs.
"If it keeps you safe," Jackson said quietly, "I'll be whatever kind of guy I need to be."
Something unexpected flickered through me at those words—not the horror or hurt I should have felt, but something else entirely. Something that made heat pool low in my stomach.
We'd never actually fought. Not really. All our conflicts had been these careful, mature discussions where we talked through problems like responsible adults. But the idea of pretending to fight, of being able to unleash all this pent-up tension and frustration in public, knowing we'd come back here afterward still together...
That was kind of hot.
I shifted position deliberately, moving from beside him to straddling his lap despite his injuries. His eyes widened slightly at the sudden change in dynamic.
"Okay," I said, letting my voice drop into something more commanding as I leaned in close. "We'll do it your way. We'll fight in public." My hands found his shoulders, pinning him back against the couch. "And then we'll come home and fuck. How does that sound?"
Jackson's eyes darkened, but amusement flickered at the corners of his mouth. "The way you're talking, you'd think you were already experienced at this."
I leaned in until my lips brushed his ear, letting my breath ghost across his skin. "And yet I'm still a virgin."
Jackson's breath caught. Then he laughed—surprised and genuine. "I had no idea that was your type of thing."
"Please." I rolled my hips slightly, feeling his immediate response beneath me. "You're telling me the idea of tension and conflict resolution doesn't turn you on even a little?"
"Honestly? No." His hands found my waist, grip tightening. "But if we're being completely honest here, I'm pretty much always hard when I see you, so the fighting thing is kind of redundant."
Before I could respond, he pulled me down into a kiss—deep and demanding and exactly what I needed after a day of pretending everything was fine.