Chapter 47
Ellie's POV
I pointed to the Gothic-style building to our left. "That's Wilton Hall—music and performing arts. Jackson's dance performances are usually there."
"Jackson?" His tone was carefully neutral. "That's a name I haven't heard before."
Crap. "He's the Dance Society president. We did a performance together recently."
"Mm-hmm." Dad adjusted his sunglasses. "Just a professional collaboration, then?"
"Dad."
"I'm just clarifying! Can't a father take interest in his daughter's extracurricular activities?"
We walked in silence for a moment, passing groups of students who gave my father curious glances. He looked distinctly out of place in his flannel shirt and hiking boots among the sea of CVU sweatshirts and trendy outfits.
"That's the library," I continued, gesturing to the modern glass-and-steel structure. "I practically live there during midterms. And beyond that path—through those trees—is Blue Water Lake. It splits the lower campus from the upper campus."
"Beautiful spot." Dad's voice had shifted slightly, and I caught the underlying meaning. Good hunting grounds. Open space. Natural cover.
"Yeah," I said quietly. "It is."
We continued along the path that bordered Pine Trail, the wooded area becoming denser as we walked. Dad breathed deeply, and I knew he was cataloging scents, mentally mapping the territory the way our kind instinctively did in any new environment.
"Do you ever feel..." He paused, choosing words carefully. "Have you ever sensed others like us here? On campus?"
The question hung between us, heavy with implication. I'd been waiting for it.
"Sometimes," I admitted. "There are moments—like a whisper at the edge of my awareness. But the campus is so crowded, Dad. Hundreds of students constantly moving around. I can't pinpoint anyone specific."
"But you're sure there are some?"
"Yes." I kept my voice low even though we were alone on this section of path. "Not many. Maybe a handful. But they're here."
His jaw tightened slightly. "And the people you interact with regularly? The ones you're close to?"
I thought about it carefully. "No one I've spent time with one-on-one has given me that feeling. I would've noticed."
The lie came easily—not because I was practiced at deception, but because I genuinely didn't think Jackson was one of us. Whatever he knew about our kind, whatever his connection to that knowledge was, he didn't carry the scent or aura of a werewolf. I was sure of it.
Dad seemed to relax fractionally. "That's something, at least. Keep your guard up, though. You never know who might be watching, or who might suspect."
"I know. I'm careful."
We emerged from the tree-lined path into a more open area where students lounged on the grass despite the cool temperature. Ahead, Pioneer Arena rose like a modern coliseum, all glass and steel and architectural ambition.
"Impressive," Dad said, and I could tell he was genuinely appreciating the building's design. "Your basketball games must be quite the spectacle."
"They are." I decided not to mention that I'd stopped attending most games after the Lucas situation exploded. "The Eagles are having a good season."
Dad opened his mouth to respond, then suddenly his expression shifted. He got that look—the mischievous, slightly embarrassing one that meant trouble.
"So," he said, his tone dripping with false innocence, "this Jackson you mentioned. The dance society president."
"Dad, no—"
"I'm just curious!" He grinned, and it was so obviously the prelude to teasing that I wanted to sink into the ground. "Is he one of the people you've spent time with? One-on-one, as you said?"
My face flushed instantly. "Dad."
"Because you know, the way you mentioned his name earlier—there was this little thing in your voice. This... softness."
"I am going to leave you here," I threatened, stopping in my tracks. "I will literally walk away and let you find your own way back to Mapleton."
He laughed—actually laughed out loud, the sound carrying across the lawn and making several students look over curiously. "Okay, okay. I'll stop. For now."
"For FOREVER," I corrected, starting to walk again with more force than necessary.
"Noted. Forever. Got it." But his grin said otherwise.
We continued toward Pioneer Arena, and I determinedly pointed out various other buildings and landmarks, refusing to look at Dad's face because I knew he was still smirking. The embarrassment was excruciating, but underneath it, there was something else. Something warm and good.
He cared. He was teasing me because he loved me and wanted to see me happy, wanted to know if there was someone new in my life who treated me better than Lucas had. It was annoying as hell, but it came from a place of pure paternal affection.
"There's the arena entrance," I said, gesturing to the massive glass doors. "During home games, it's absolutely packed. The energy is incredible."
Dad nodded appreciatively, taking it all in. Then—because apparently he couldn't help himself—he added casually, "Does Jackson like basketball?"
I spun on him. "That's it. I'm done. Enjoy your solo tour."
"Ellie, I'm sorry!" He held up both hands in surrender, but he was fighting laughter. "I promise—I absolutely promise—no more questions about your love life."
"I don't HAVE a love life!"
"Even better! No complicated questions needed!"
I glared at him, and he finally had the grace to look somewhat apologetic. Somewhat. There was still that glimmer of amusement in his eyes that made me want to both hug him and shove him into Blue Water Lake.
"Fine," I relented. "But one more comment and I'm calling Mom to come get you."
"Your terms are acceptable."
We walked around the arena's perimeter, and I pointed out the practice facilities and the student athletic center. Dad asked intelligent questions about the equipment and training programs, carefully avoiding any topic that might be remotely related to my personal life.
As we looped back toward the main campus, I spotted a familiar figure heading toward Wilton Hall. Tyler Brown, guitar case slung over his shoulder, his shaggy hair falling into his eyes as usual.
He saw me and waved enthusiastically. "Hey, Ellie!"
"Hey, Tyler. Heading somewhere?"
"Yeah, Jackson just texted—he agreed to help Student Council with a performance for some event. I'm heading over to discuss details." He noticed Dad and nodded politely. "Sir."
"Tyler's in the Dance Society," I explained quickly.
"Nice to meet you," Dad said, shaking Tyler's hand.
Tyler shifted his bag. "Oh, Ellie—Jackson will probably reach out to you later. I think he's considering having you involved in this performance, but I'll let him fill you in on the details himself."
"Oh. Okay, thanks for the heads up."
We exchanged a few more pleasantries, and then Tyler continued on his way. The moment he was out of earshot, I felt Dad's attention laser-focus on me.
"Don't," I warned.
"I wasn't going to say anything."
"You're THINKING it very loudly."
Dad's lips twitched. "He seems like a nice young man. Polite. Dance talent is always—"
"If you finish that sentence, I'm disowning you."
He laughed again, and I couldn't help but join him despite my exasperation. This was exactly what I'd needed—this lightness, this normalcy. My father being ridiculous and overprotective and loving in that embarrassing-but-endearing way that fathers could be.