Chapter 23
Jack
He's quiet the whole ride home.
Not just silent—quiet in that way people get when their thoughts are too loud. Staring out the window, twiddling his fingers again, not even humming along to the soft music on the radio.
Maybe I shouldn't have said anything.
Maybe I should've just kept playing the part—the stable alpha with the guest room, the groceries, the good intentions. The safe harbor, nothing more.
But the truth is, I do like him.
And "like" feels too small a word for it.
I don't know if it's the proximity, or the shared space, or the way his laugh sounds like sunlight cracking through overcast mornings. But I want a relationship with him. A real one. Not built on gratitude. Not born from a rescue mission. Not something he owes me for pulling him out of the rain.
Right now, though, what we have—it's like walking on a razor's edge. One wrong move and this whole thing could tip over. Become something toxic. Something messy.
And God, I don't want that.
I didn't mean to like Ciel. When I first saw him—barefoot, bleeding, and looking like a fallen god—I was stunned, sure. Who wouldn't be?
But awe is different from affection.
And affection… affection is what slipped in quietly. Between shared breakfasts and sleepy yawns.
It's in the proud way he presents a new dish, like he's auditioning for a cooking show I'm lucky enough to judge. It's in the way he rubs his belly before bed, humming something soft under his breath that I'm not supposed to hear. It's in the arguments he has with Nolan over nothing—who does dishes, who hogs the blanket on the couch—because those stupid, ordinary arguments sound like… family.
I don't know when it happened.
Maybe it was the soft smiles.
Maybe it was his eyes—golden and impossible to read unless he lets you.
Maybe it was the food. Or the way he tries so hard to be useful when he already is—just by being here. Just by existing.
Somewhere between all of that… it just happened.
And now, I don't want it to stop.
Even if I wanted it to stop, I don't think it would have been possible.
***
Nolan
Something happened between them.
It's obvious.
Ciel's quieter than usual. He's got that faraway look in his eyes, the one he used to get when he was still trying to convince himself the bad days weren't that bad. Except now, when Jack looks at him, Ciel… softens. Not flinches. Not bristles. Softens.
And Jack? Jack looks at him like he's already made some kind of decision.
I hate it.
But Ciel seems uneasy.
Once we're in our room, I corner him.
"What happened between you two?" I demand, planting my hand against the doorframe, caging him in before he can vanish into his nest of pillows and excuses.
"Nothing." His tone is flat, dismissive. He shifts to move past me, but I don't budge.
"Don't lie. During dinner the atmosphere was—" I wave a hand, frustrated, "—awkward. Weird. I could feel it."
Ciel tilts his head, unimpressed. "Pardon, I'm carrying an entire human being in me. Maybe I was awkward because my internal organs are currently playing musical chairs."
"Don't deflect." My voice sharpens. "Did he touch you?"
He glares at me.
"Jack is not like that," Ciel snaps, brushing past me like I'm an obstacle in his way instead of a person.
He sinks onto the bed with a graceless little huff, robe fluttering around his knees.
"Then what's going on?" I press, my voice sharper than I mean it to be.
Ciel exhales, long and frayed at the edges. "I just need… time to think, okay?" He lies back against the pillows, one hand automatically drifting to his stomach.
Time to think.
Time to think about him.
I stand there, fists curling and uncurling, watching him breathe steady through the weight of everything he's not saying. He won't even look at me.
"You shut me out," I mutter, quieter now. "You used to tell me everything. Now I'm the one left guessing."
His golden eyes flick toward me—tired, guarded. "You're not guessing. You're assuming. Big difference."
That stings. Worse because he's right.
"I'm trying to protect you," I say, softer.
Ciel snorts, turning his face into the pillow.
"Please, as if Jack would hurt me."
The words grind at me, like sand under my skin. Before I can stop myself, it slips out.
"Should I remind you how many times you've said that—and been proven wrong?"
Silence.
Heavy. Instant.
I freeze.
Too late.
He lifts his head slowly, eyes locking on mine. There's no fire, no shouting—just a quiet kind of devastation that makes my stomach drop.
"I understand."
He swings his legs off the bed, awkwardly pushing himself up. I rush to steady him—because he's seven months pregnant and shouldn't be moving this fast—but he sidesteps me, my hand hovering useless in the air.
"Ciel—wait, I didn't mean—"
"It's fine," he cuts me off, voice sharp and trembling all at once.
Then he delivers the killing blow.
"I'll sleep in Jack's room tonight. I need to anyway—for my son's health. Something about physical contact and pheromones."
He doesn't even look at me as he says it. He just walks. Robe trailing. Shoulders squared, even though I know he's shaking inside.
Past me. Out the door.
And I'm left standing there, watching the only person I've ever loved walk straight into another man's room.