POV: JACKSON
This situation was undeniably odd. Voices? Why was she hearing them, and why would they urge her to harm Saint? He had only arrived last week. I'd be shocked if he'd already made an enemy bitter enough to want him dead.
"Take her to the cell and tell the pack doctor to check on her. Bring her back tomorrow morning for questioning. I'll wrap things up here," I instructed the three wolves nearby, who promptly complied.
Chris approached Saint. "Are you alright, Saint?" he asked, helping him stand.
"Not really," Saint replied, his voice weary.
"Do you have any clue why she'd want to kill you?" Chris inquired. I was curious about that too.
"I don't even know her. She just walked in and asked if I was a saint. I said yes, and then she lunged at me," Saint recounted.
"We'll discuss this tomorrow. Go with Jackson. He'll take care of your arm at his place," Chris said, glancing at me. I responded with a neutral expression.
Saint looked back and forth between us. "It's just a couple of scratches; it'll heal quickly," he said.
"Saint, your arm is bleeding. Let Jackson wrap it up for you while it heals," Chris urged.
"It's fine. I'll wait for my mom to come back," Saint said, trying to walk past me. I grabbed his arm, and he winced.
"Sorry," I muttered, releasing him. "Come with me; I'll clean your wounds," I offered gently. He appeared uncertain.
"Chris will inform your mom where you are," I assured him. I didn't want him to be left alone here. What if someone else showed up?
"Alright," he murmured softly.
"It's settled then. I'll stick around to tidy up and wait for your mom to return," Chris told him. He nodded in agreement.
"Come on," I said, stepping outside. He trailed behind me as we made our way to the car.
As soon as we settled in, he released a gentle sigh, which prompted JJ to wag his tail eagerly. I chose to overlook it. The drive to my house was silent, and I preferred the calm without any conversation.
Once we arrived, I guided him to the countertop. "Take a seat here while I grab the first aid kit," I instructed, pointing to the chair. I retrieved the box, pulling out bandages for his arms and ointment for his face. I started with his arms, cleaning the wounds before wrapping them up.
He winced. "Please be gentle." His soft whisper caught my attention, making me glance at him.
"Did I say something wrong?" he asked, concern flickering in his eyes.
That snapped me back to reality. "No, everything's fine," I reassured him, continuing with his arms. Once I was finished, I moved on to his face to apply the ointment.
"Spread your legs," I instructed.
He shot his head up so quickly that I feared he might get dizzy. "W-what?" he stammered, his cheeks flushing a bright shade of pink.
Suddenly, I realized how that sounded. "I didn't mean it like that! I just wanted to get closer to apply the ointment properly," I clarified.
"Oh," was all he managed to say.
"Actually, never mind. I can do it from here," I said hastily, quickly applying the ointment.
His blush deepened, and he avoided my gaze, clearly flustered by my words. Why the fuck did I say that?
"Daddy," Tom called out from behind me, rubbing his sleepy eyes. It seemed he had just woken up. I took a step back from Saint and set the ointment down on the countertop.
"What's the matter, Tom?" I asked, kneeling to meet his gaze. He glanced at Saint before turning back to me.
"Who is he?" he whispered. I looked at Saint, unsure of how to introduce him to Tom.
"His name is Saint, and he's my new friend. You can call him Uncle Saint," I finally replied.
Tom approached Saint, studying him carefully with his eyes drawn to his arm. "What happened to your arm?" he inquired.
"Um..." Saint glanced at me as if asking for what to say, before responding, "I fell on the floor."
"Are you clumsy too? Blakey is clumsy. He gets scratches on his back all the time," Tom remarked, looking up at Saint.
"Oh, uh, tell your friend to be cautious?" Saint suggested, a bit uncertain.
"But you're not careful either. Look, you have injuries," Tom pointed out, poking at Saint's arm, causing him to flinch.
"How about we make some dinner for you, Tom? Why don't you go watch TV while I prepare it?" I said, redirecting him towards the living room. I turned on his favorite channel.
Returning to the kitchen, I found Saint examining his arm. "Did I wrap it incorrectly?" I asked.
"Oh no, it's healing already," he assured me, and I nodded in response.
Suddenly, Chris reached out to me through our mind-link. "How are you liking his presence?"
"Just tell me what you want, Chris."
"Alright, fine. Let Saint know that his mom is alright. I've updated her about what happened and assured her he's safe with you. She'll be coming by tomorrow to see him, along with Mateo."
Mateo? Who's that? I wanted to ask, but he had already cut it off.
"Chris mentioned he informed your mom about what happened; she'll be here tomorrow," I told Saint.
"Mmn," he replied distractedly as he looked at his arm. Should I inquire about Mateo? I mean, it's only fair to know who's coming over, right?
"Who's Mat-"
"Coming tomorrow?" he interjected, his eyes widening in surprise.
"Yeah, is there an issue?" Shouldn't she be coming? I felt a bit confused.
"Am I staying here tonight?"
"Yeah."
"I'd rather be at home. My mom is there, and so is Mateo," he said.
Mateo. Who is this person? "We're not sure who sent her to hurt you. I don't want to put your life in danger," I explained. He looked down, nervously biting his lip. "And your mom too. She could have been in danger if she was around," I added.
"You're right," he said, fidgeting with his fingers.
"I'm about to start dinner. Why don't you take a shower? We can talk once we've eaten," I suggested. He nodded and headed off.
Moments later, he returned. "I'm not sure where the bathroom is," he admitted, a bit shyly.
I couldn't help but suppress a smile. "I'll show you. Just follow me," I said, leading him down the hall. I brought him to the room across from Tom's. "You can shower and rest here. I'll come get you when dinner's ready," I informed him.
"Okay, thanks," he replied as he stepped inside. I then headed back to the kitchen to start preparing dinner.
After a few hours, I wrapped up dinner preparations. I had whipped up some Mac and cheese. I went to fetch Tom, set him up at his table, and served his meal before heading over to call for Saint. I knocked on his door, waiting a moment before knocking again. This time, he opened it just a crack, revealing only his face.
"Is everything alright?" I asked.
"I don't have any clothes to wear. I forgot to bring any," he replied.
"I'll find something for you," I said and left for my room. Only my shirt would fit him; my pants would be far too large. He'd have to make do with that for the night. I grabbed one of my pajama shirts for him. "Put this on; the pants won't fit. Chris will bring your things tomorrow." I handed him the shirt.
"Thanks," he said, taking it and shutting the door. I returned to the kitchen to see that Tom had finished his meal. He asked for more, and I happily obliged.
"Dawjy, wyill onkle Shaint nwot hawve ginner?" he spoke with a mouthful.
"Don't talk with food in your mouth, and yes, he will," I responded.
A few minutes later, Saint came down wearing my shirt, which hung loosely on him, reaching just past his mid-thigh. He had kept on the pants he had worn earlier.
He looked good in my shirt. Wait, ignore that
He took a seat at the table, his cheeks flushed with color. "Should I plate my food or...?" he asked.
"I'll take care of that for you." I served him his meal, and he murmured a soft 'thank you.'
We sat in silence as we finished our meal. Once Tom had cleared his plate, he expressed his gratitude and hurried off to his room. I wrapped up my own meal soon after and headed to the kitchen to do the dishes.
"I'll handle it, as a way to thank you for the food and the clothes," he offered, standing next to me. His scent enveloped me; it was even more strong after his shower, and I couldn't help but notice how good he smelled.
"No, it's okay. I'm the one who should handle this since you're a guest," I insisted. He seemed ready to argue, but I interrupted him, saying, "Really, go wait for me. We can talk when I'm done." He nodded and stepped away.
Once I completed the dishes, I guided him to my study for our conversation. "First off, I owe you an apology for my words the other day. I didn't intend to come off as harsh. I just..." I paused with a sigh.
"Anto held a very special place in my heart. She was my first love, my soulmate-everything. She tragically passed away in a rogue attack when Tom was just three. It was a tough journey, but I raised Tom alone. I never expected to find another mate; I was content with just him and me," I explained, noticing his frown as he stared down at his hands.
This wasn't heading in the direction I hoped. "What I really mean is, let's just be friends for now." I added "for now" to soften the blow, thinking a bit of false hope wouldn't hurt.
"I didn't know the full story about your previous mate. I'm sorry for how I reacted this morning," he replied after a moment of thought.
"Your reaction was completely understandable. I'm sorry for how I expressed myself. I should have been clearer," I admitted sincerely.
A brief silence lingered as he contemplated, biting his lip. "Alright, let's be friends," he declared, extending his hand. I grasped it, and a jolt of electricity surged through me. I quickly pulled my hand back.
"I'm going to my room now. Goodnight," he said, making his way to the door. He paused and asked, "I noticed everyone calls you Alpha. Should I do the same?"
"Jackson is fine," I responded.
"Jackson," he echoed, as if testing it on his lips. It sounded nice coming from him.
"That's it then. Goodnight, Jackson," he said, stepping out.
I exhaled, feeling relieved. Our conversation had exceeded my expectations. It seemed we're on the same page now. With a soft smile, I made my way to my room.