Paul Smith’s face was beaded with sweat when he returned. “I’m sorry, sir. I’m afraid this particular set will be going up for auction this afternoon.”
“What’s his value?”
“I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to say.”
Jackson smiled at him, “Of course you’re not. Go back. Tell them I’ll double what he’s expected to bring in. Jackson Carmillan, just in case you didn’t know the name.” He didn’t hold out his hand for the introduction.
“Yes, sir. I’ll be right back.”
Jackson turned back to the cage. “C363M657.” The wolf tensed. “That’s a fucking mouthful. If you don’t have a name, think one up, otherwise I’m calling you Fido.”
Nothing. Not a twitch of the lips to show humor or anger. No tensing. No relaxing. Jackson sighed and turned his back on the cage. He hated this goddamned place.
Paul returned with shaking hands. “I’m sorry, sir. This batch is required to go to auction. This block will be up at 3, if you’d like to wait I can show you to our vip area.”
Ha. No. “No, thank you.” There was a rattle from the cage behind him. “I’ll wait right here and follow him to the auction block. I would prefer a chair brought to me here.”
“As you wish.”
Paul left and returned with a wooden folding chair. “Thank you.” Jackson settled in and watched Paul walk away. The chair was uncomfortable, the sun was only growing hotter, and Jackson was bored.
“These guys think I don’t know what happens when people are required to go to auction,” he muttered to the wolves behind him. “I’d go wait in the ‘vip area’ only for money to change hands in private and you to disappear.” Jackson laughed and tapped his knuckles against the cage. “Too bad I know how these guys work. C36M657.” The wolf tensed again. “It’s fine. You can speak.”
Nothing.
“Yeah, I guess they’re strict about that shit here.”
Nothing. Jackson stopped pushing for a reaction. He leaned back in his chair and let the sun bake his skin. The amount of people walking by was slowly increasing and he received several dirty looks for his chair being in the way. He just stared at them until they continued on. It went fine, until half an hour before the auction when a shadow fell across him.
Jackson sighed in annoyance and lifted his head from where he’d let it rest back against one of the iron bars. “Can I help you?” He asked the man standing before him.
The man straightened the sleeve of his suit. His hair was swept back and styled with something that made his hair look greasy. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of dark sunglasses. “Jackson Carmillan?”
“That’s me.”
The man smiled, showing off a set of perfect, too-white teeth. “Walk with me and let’s talk. I’ve heard you’re interested in C36M657?”
“I’ll be purchasing him in about,” he glanced at his watch, “24 minutes. And we can talk here just fine.”
The man hummed. “You won’t be able to purchase him. His starting bid is going to be much higher than any budget your daddy gave you for a new plaything.”
Jackson let out a low whistle. “Oh boy, you sure have me pegged.”
A scowl crossed the man’s lips for a fraction of a second, then his smile was back. “I can show you some other great options. Some who might be a better fit for what you’re looking for.”
“I’m looking for wolf C36M657. Can you show me him?”
The man’s smile tightened. “What are you looking for in a wolf?”
Jackson mentally applauded the man’s skill in keeping his voice smooth. “I definitely want a wolf skilled in fighting that has a second specialty as’ personal.’” When the man’s smile started to relax, Jackson continued, “Oh! And his ID number has to be C36M657. If I’m not mistaken, I’ve already found him.”
The man’s smile was cruel as he let out a short laugh. “He’ll kill you in seconds and belong to me anyway. So, sure. Go ahead and spend all of daddy’s money to out bid me and enjoy your purchase for the solid five minutes you own it.”
Jackson squinted at him and very deliberately cocked his head to the side. “Do you not know how the collars work? Are you sure you should be purchasing a wolf if you don’t even know how to control one?”
“You really think a simple shock will control one of those four?”
Jackson blinked at the man. He was completely thrown off by how this conversation was going. “Do… Uh, I hate to use this phrase, but do you not know who I am? I mean you said my name when you approached so I assumed you knew who you were talking to. Jackson Carmillan. Of Carmillan Collars. I think I have a better understanding of how the collars work than you do.”
The man sneered, “Of course I know who you are. Steve’s bratty son.”
“Great, then you’ll know that when I say I’ve decided on which wolf I’m buying, that means that I will be going home with my choice. You can either back off and go home or you can bid me up as much as you want, but it won’t change the outcome. I am leaving with him.” He thrust a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the wolf. “And you are not.”
The man stared at him with an ugly twist to his lips for several long moments then walked away without a word. Jackson waited until he was out of hearing range then snorted. “What an ass,” he said to the four behind him. There was no response. He realized then that one of the other three would probably go home with that man instead and fought the urge to apologize to them. If his dad heard about him apologizing to a wolf in public, then he’d never hear the end of it.
He checked his watch when he noticed several workers approaching the cage. The auction was about to begin.
Jackson dug their big knife out of the drawer. He crushed and minced the garlic and scraped it to the side of the cutting board. “Wren?”“Yeah?”“Check the chicken.”There was a rattle behind him. Jackson turned to the carrots and started peeling them. The peeler was apparently a little loose and cocked the side after just two swipes. “Chicken’s good. Want me to adjust that?”“Nah, I got it.” Jackson straightened the peeler clamped on the edge of the counter. He tightened the grip and switched back to peeling the carrots. “Has anyone texted yet?”“Kia and Belle said they might be a little late. Otherwise, no.”Jackson glanced over. Wren was leaning his hip against the counter. His hair was loose around his shoulders. The sun beamed through their kitchen window and lit him in a warm light. Jackson set the half-peeled carrot down and stepped forward.
Nine months since he’d lost his arm and he and Wren were homeowners. Jackson laughed as he caught sight of the white flakes swirling in the wind outside the kitchen window. He opened the cabinet doors in search of the cocoa. Wren was starting a fire in the fireplace. The first snow of the year was later than normal and nothing more than barely there flurries. “Wren,” Jackson called from the kitchen.“Yeah?”“It’s snowing.” Jackson found the container. He braced it between the counter and his hip and used his hand to pry off the top. He mixed the chocolate into the hot milk, squeezed the excess out of Wren’s tea bag, placed both cups on his tray and carefully carried it into the living room. “Our first kiss was in the snow.”The fire was just starting to catch on the logs. Wren settled on the couch next to him and reached for his steaming mug on the coffee table. He tossed his other arm across Jack
Six months of therapy and rehab and sympathetic looks and Jackson was sick of it. He was tired of living in the hotel. He was tired of nonstop people. Nonstop sound. Nonstop everything. For a moment, he considered asking Wren if Wren would want to move in with Grandma Rose and Grandpa Frank. Then he realized what they could do. What they had the means to do.Wren stepped into their room. He was sweaty from the run with Zain. His dark hair stuck to the back of his neck despite the ponytail’s effort to keep it off. Jackson pushed his laptop to the side and rose up on his knees.Wren leaned forward for a kiss and Jackson pulled him in closer with his arm around Wren’s neck. Wren chuckled and gently disengaged. “What’s going on?”Jackson fell back and reached for his laptop again. He avoided eye contact as he pulled up the screen he had minimized. “I was just thinking that maybe it’s time we get a house? Just for the two of
Three months. His scar was still red and angry. Jackson’s therapist was great. Really. He knew any body image issues he might have were something he’d get over with enough time, but for now, staring at the angry red skin that marked where his arm should be… He felt a stupid mixture of embarassment, shame, and disgust. Jackson was pale. He’d always been pale. He’d never had an issue with it before, but now, the paleness of his skin made the scar look all the more alarming. The knock on the door startled him and he realized he’d been standing there for a little too long. “Just a second,” he called. The shirt was still a struggle to get on, but he was getting quicker every time. Jeans were a no go since he couldn’t button them one handed so he spent all of his time in sweatpants. Sweats were comfortable, but they were just another reminder of what he couldn’t do anymore. What he didn’t have anymore. The empty sleeve hung limp over his shoulder. Jackson turned hi
His dad was on his way to Jackson’s hospital room. Grandma Rose had reassured him countless times that if he changed his mind then she would personally escort him from the entire country. Jackson appreciated the thought, but he needed to talk to his dad. It had been a week since Jackson woke up. A week and Jackson was leaving the hospital in hopefully another day or two. He wanted to talk to his dad now, while he was still in such an impersonal place such as a hospital room.Jackson stared at the door. His dad should be arriving any minute. His dad had told Grandma Rose that he would be there at noon and it was currently 11:57. Wren sat next to him, on his left side, the side of his missing arm. He glanced at the clock. Then the door. Then the clock.When the knock came, he jumped and glanced at Wren. “Can you get it?” Jackson asked. Walking across the room in his hospital gown with one sleeve hanging limp would have put him in too vulnerable a positi
About two hours after your shooting, all of the collars in Oconee stopped working.Jackson didn’t understand. “That’s not possible. I know the coding in those collars backward and forward. There are countless fail-safes. For them to just, stop working…” Jackson shook his head. He was already feeling tired again, but he pushed through. “Do we know what caused it?”“There was a statement put out from that Carmillan Collars PR lady that they were looking into what caused the problem, but that was three days ago. There’s been no word since.”Three days. “What day is it?”“You were shot four days ago. You’ve been in and out of consciousness but every time was only for a few seconds and you were pretty confused,” Kia said. “You mentioned geese a couple of times.”Jackson’s lips twitched in a reluctant smile. “I think I was dreaming of