Chapter 70
Lucas's POV
The late afternoon sun beat down on the Silver Springs Medical Center parking lot, making the asphalt shimmer with heat. I gripped the steering wheel of my Jeep so tightly my knuckles went white, staring straight ahead at nothing while Mom's words echoed in my skull.
The doctor's appointment had been routine—just another check-up, another round of medications adjusted, another reminder that Mom's health wasn't what it used to be. But it was the car ride that was killing me.
"She's always been such a sweet girl," Mom said from the passenger seat, her voice taking on that wistful tone I'd learned to dread. "Ellie, I mean. You two were inseparable growing up."
I didn't respond. Couldn't. Not when Conall was already restless inside my chest, pacing and snarling at the bars of my self-control.
"I always thought you two would end up together," Mom continued, oblivious to my tension. "The way you looked at each other when you were younger... and she's such a good girl. So responsible, so caring—"
"Mom. Please." The words came out harsher than I intended. "Can we not do this right now?"
But she wasn't finished. She reached over, her hand resting gently on my arm. "I just don't understand what happened between you two. You were so close, and then that Samantha girl transferred in, and suddenly—"
"Mom, I love Samantha," I cut her off, though even to my own ears, the words sounded defensive. "Why can't you understand that?"
"I'm not saying you don't care about her, honey. I just..." She trailed off, sighing. "Ellie understood you in ways that girl never will. She knew about our family, about our... special circumstances. You could be yourself around her."
"Ellie doesn't need me anymore," I said flatly, starting the engine. The Jeep roared to life, providing blessed relief from the conversation. "She has Jackson now."
Mom's expression crumpled, and I immediately hated myself. But what else could I say? That watching Ellie laugh with that dance society guy made something inside me feel like it was being ripped apart? That I had no idea what the hell I was doing anymore?
The drive back to Mapleton should have been straightforward—just get on the highway and head home. We'd made the two-hour trip to the city for Mom's specialist appointment, same as we did every month. But as I merged onto the coastal road, Mom's hand touched my arm.
"Honey, could we maybe drive around the area a bit? I haven't been here in so long, and it's such a beautiful day."
I glanced at her. She was smiling hopefully, and I couldn't say no to that expression. Not when doctor's visits tired her out so much, not when she so rarely asked for anything.
"Sure, Mom. Whatever you want."
The Jeep rolled to a stop at a red light. I let my head fall back against the seat, exhausted.
That's when I saw it.
The black Cadillac car parked in front of the Seacliff Resort, distinctive and familiar. I would recognize that vehicle anywhere—I'd memorized the license plate weeks ago, back when I'd started noticing how often it appeared wherever Ellie was.
Jackson Wilson's car.
My heart began to pound. Conall surged forward, alert and aggressive.
There. The wolf's attention locked on movement near the hotel entrance. THERE.
My head whipped around so fast my neck cracked. And there they were.
Jackson was at the valet stand, handing over his keys, and beside him stood Ellie in a light blue sundress, her hair gleaming gold in the sun. But it was her expression that hit me like a physical blow—she was smiling. Really smiling, in that soft, genuine way I hadn't seen in months.
Jackson's hand settled on the small of her back as they walked toward the entrance, casual and familiar. The gesture made my vision blur red at the edges.
They're going into a hotel, Conall snarled. Together.
"Lucas?" Mom's voice seemed distant. "The light is green, honey—"
But I was already moving. The Jeep lurched forward, tires squealing as I yanked the wheel hard right, cutting into the hotel's driveway. Horns blared. Mom gasped, grabbing the door handle.
"Lucas! What are you doing?"
"Just wait here," I said, already unbuckling my seatbelt. "I'll be right back."
I didn't wait for her response. Conall was howling inside me, demanding action, and the full moon's proximity meant my self-control was gossamer-thin. My legs carried me across the driveway, past the startled valet, through the glass doors.
The lobby was all Spanish colonial elegance—terracotta tiles, exposed beams, that old-money sophistication that screamed expensive. I caught sight of them at the front desk, Jackson's hand on Ellie's elbow as the receptionist processed their information.
I forced myself to slow down, to breathe, to think. I couldn't just charge over there like a lunatic. But then I saw the receptionist slide two key cards across the counter, and rational thought evaporated.
They were heading toward the elevators. I followed at a distance, my heart hammering, Conall's fury making my hands shake. Fourth floor. Room 408 and 409.
I waited until the elevator doors closed behind them before jabbing the call button for the next car. The ride up felt like an eternity. What was I even doing? What was I going to say?
She's with him. She's staying overnight with him.
The thought made something primal and possessive rear up inside me.
The fourth-floor hallway was quiet, carpeted in thick burgundy. I could hear voices—Ellie's laugh, light and genuine, followed by Jackson's deeper rumble. They were standing at room 408, and Jackson was saying something about the rooms being next to each other, separate but connected—
"This one's yours," I heard him say. "I'm right next door if you need anything."
Separate rooms. The information should have calmed me. It didn't.
I watched as Jackson slid his key into 409 and disappeared inside. Ellie stood in her doorway for a moment, looking after him with an expression I couldn't read, before starting to close her door.
"Ellie."
Her name came out rougher than I intended. She froze, her hand on the door handle, then slowly turned to face me.
"Lucas." Her tone was flat, carefully neutral. "What are you doing here?"
The distance between us felt like miles. I took a step forward, trying to organize the chaos in my head into coherent words.
"I could ask you the same thing." My voice came out too harsh, accusatory. "What are you doing here? With him?"