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Parker glanced around the Ring of Fire before knocking on Jameson's door. For the first evening in a long time, everyone seemed to be doing their own thing elsewhere. The only person at the fire pit was Ian, who sat staring at the flames. He gripped his phone in one large fist.
"What's up?" Parker asked.
Ian shook his head. After looking around to make sure nobody was listening, he lowered his voice. "It's this chick, man."
Parker froze. He was the last person here who should be giving relationship advice.
"I can't find her," Ian continued. "It's like she disappeared. Vanished. Dematerialized."
"Maybe she's like that Rhiannon chick in the Bitterroots," Parker said, trying to lighten the tone of the conversation.
"Nah," Ian said, all seriousness. "She's human. She gave me her phone number, but it doesn't work. You think she gave me a fake one?"
"No idea," Parker said.
Ian stared at his phone screen. "It sucks, man."
Parker nodded, feeling sad for the poor bastard. He could definitely empathize with heartache. "Sorry. Maybe you can move on?"
"Wish I could," Ian said, frowning. "Well, thanks."
Parker hadn't done anything that he could see, but he gave Ian an encouraging look before turning back to Jameson and Nina's door and knocking on it.
From inside the cabin, the sounds of a television show stopped. A second later, Nina opened the door.
"Hey, Parker, what's up?" Her cheeks were flushed like she'd been laughing.
"Just wondering if I could talk to Jameson for a second. Sorry for interrupting."
"Not at all," she said. "We're just watching a movie. Come on in."
He stepped into the cabin after her. The scent of caramel corn filled the living area, and he saw a big bowl of it in front of the couch. Settling in next to Jameson on the couch, Nina gestured for Parker to have a seat on the chair.
Parker started to sit down, but he couldn't do it. The tiger in him was pacing, testing the boundaries, wondering how to break out of the cage he'd fashioned for himself. All day long, he'd been insane with the knowledge that Kayla planned to go back to the Bitterroots. All day long, he'd thought about how best to bring this up to Jameson. Somehow, he had to bend the alpha's ear to his will.
He paced, taking in random details in the room. Packaging from a crib. A copy of The Baby Whisperer on the coffee table. A pile of knitting in blue and purple—the beginnings of a baby blanket, maybe? He felt bad for piling more trouble on Jameson when he was an expectant father. But Jameson had to know how unsafe the Bitterroot situation was for Kayla.
He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again and traversed the length of their tiny living room.
"Dude," Nina said, grabbing the bowl of caramel corn and plopping it on top of her pregnant belly. "Spit it out."
Jameson shot her a look, but she gave Parker an unapologetic smile.
"I want to get back to Romancing the Stone," she said, shrugging. "I can't stay up as late as I used to."
Parker nodded. "Sorry. Thing is, I hate that Kayla's going back to the Bitterroots."
"You hate it because it isn't safe, or because you're jealous?" Nina asked.
Jameson looked at her again, incredulous, but she shrugged once more.
"What?" she said. "Get to the heart of the matter. At this rate, the baby will be here before we figure out what's on Parker's mind."
"I'll tell you," Parker said. "It's both. I won't pretend I'm not jealous. But I want her safety more than anything. And her happiness. Have you seen her since she went last?"
He thought back to the phone conversation between Kayla and Sloan. He hadn't heard Sloan's words, but listening to Kayla had felt like a spear in the gut—she sounded so unhappy. Couldn't Sloan hear that? How on earth could Sloan be fooled into thinking Kayla liked him when she sounded so sad all the time?
But—and the thought struck Parker harder than any spear—what if Parker was the reason for Kayla's unhappiness? She'd seemed crushed when she sent him away the other night.
First get her safe, he reasoned. Then he could worry about her happiness.
Jameson studied Parker's face before saying, "Kayla's willing to help. She wants to help."
"There has to be another way," Parker said.
"If there was," Nina interjected, "don't you think we would already be doing it?"
Parker didn't have an answer for that.
"I'm not going to tell her not to go," Jameson said.
"Send someone else," Parker said. "Send anyone else. Send me. I'll pretend that I want to join Bronson."
Nina shook her head. "You know that would never work."
Something had to work. He could not accept this. The thought of Kayla going back, surrounding herself with the enemy, pretending she liked her ex, maybe letting him touch her... Parker growled. He wanted to hit something, take out his rage. But the sight of the yarn and knitting needles made him stop. This wasn't the place.
He'd have to spend even more time in Rex's gym. This was so messed up, and here was the culprit, sitting in his comfortable house with his pregnant mate.
"Fuck you, Jameson," Parker said. If he couldn't express his rage with his fists, he'd use his words. "You're the one who planted the idea in her head in the first place."
Jameson stood up.
Hell. Parker hadn't meant to challenge him. He quickly stepped back. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."
"Yes, you did," Jameson said.
From her perch on the couch, Nina watched them, wide-eyed. Then she took a handful of caramel corn from the bowl and shoved it into her mouth.
Was he being that dramatic? Parker found the chair, sat down, and ran his hands over his head. Jameson's alpha power was filling the room, making it hard to breathe. Nina appeared wholly unaffected, although she had to feel it even if it wasn't directed at her.
Parker choked out the words, "How would you feel if it was Nina going over there?"
"Nina's my mate," Jameson growled. "What is Kayla to you?"
Parker shook his head. He couldn't say it. Couldn't claim her, not even in words. He knew what he was, what he would bring to her life—nothing but pain and sorrow.
"You're too close to this. Too close to her," Jameson said.
"Yeah," Parker said. That wasn't news to him. He'd been fighting that closeness for nearly five months.
"You wanted to drive her before and I said no," Jameson mused, "but your beast is going crazy, I can tell. Why don't you drive her this time? If you're closer to her, maybe you can relax."
Parker looked up at him. Could that work? It had to be worth a try.
"Yeah," he said. "I'll do it."
He stood up to go. Nina was staring at him, her hazel eyes intent on his face. She was in her mid-twenties and he was in his mid-thirties, but he felt like she knew more about the world than he did. He felt his cheeks go hot—he wasn't used to her scrutiny. Nina was a fellow feline shifter, and he could sense her baleful disapproval.
"I'll be going now," he said. "Sorry for interrupting your movie night."
While taking the few steps toward the door, he was conscious of Nina following him. He made it all the way onto the porch before she said in a sharp voice, "Parker."
He turned.
Anger flashed in her eyes. This anger was far too strong for an interrupted movie.
"Yes?" he said.
"You really love her, don't you?" Nina asked.
Parker looked off to the side, trying to be interested in the way shadows fell from the little rocks lining the flower bed beside the porch.
"Why now?" Nina pressed. "She was practically throwing herself at you for four freaking months, and you never took notice until decided to consider getting back with Sloan—"
"No, that's not it," he said.
But it was how it looked. He hadn't even thought about it this way. He'd wanted her for much longer than this Bitterroot drama. He'd wanted her from the beginning.
He'd been able to resist her, though. Until when? The club? He thought back, remembered seeing that text from Sloan on her phone, remembered how it had enraged him. Sweetcheeks, we should talk. Let's not throw this away. Just the thought of it made him want to knock that fucker's head into a brick wall.
Maybe Parker really was just a jealous asshole.
Nina gave Parker a skeptical look, although her anger softened. She laughed. "You're being tortured by this whole thing, aren't you?"
He nodded once.
"It would serve you right if she ignored you for four months."
Four months? He'd fucking die.
She laughed again at the panic he knew was plain on his face, and closed her door.