Page 55 of False Catch

It’s driving every Alpha on the team insane.

Gray’s been snapping at everyone. Bo’s overprotective instincts are in high gear. Even Cameron—usually ice-cold control—has been burning it off with late-night rides.

Jackson’s the worst, though. The stress gnaws at him, dragging back the shadows he carried when he first transferred here. I’ve caught him watching Reese with an intensity that borders on obsessive, cataloging every little interaction with Quinton like he’s building evidence for a trial.

He won’t admit it, but he’s falling for her. Hard.

And it terrifies him.

I found him in the weight room at five this morning, already drenched in sweat, another plate going onto the bar when I asked what was wrong. He didn’t answer—just pushed himself harder, as if sheer effort could silence what’s eating him alive.

But I know. Jackson’s afraid of wanting something he thinks he can’t have. Afraid of repeating the pattern that broke him at his last school. Afraid that admitting his feelings for Reese will twist them, make them predatory instead of real.

The irony? His fear is blinding him to what’s right in front of him. Reese watches him, too. When she thinks no one notices, her eyes follow him with the same hungry intensity he shows her. There’s heat there. Recognition.

She wants him. Wants us both, if I’m reading her right.

The only question is what we’re going to do about it.

“Movie?” I ask, finding Reese in the kitchen, her phone dangling forgotten in her hand. A frown creases her brow, stress written clear across her face. “I’m done pretending to study.”

She looks up, eyes tired. “What kind of movie?”

“Something mind-numbing. No thinking required.” I lean against the counter, close enough to catch her scent. Still crisp like winter air, but warmer now, threaded with something that makes me want to pull her into my arms and smooth away every line between her brows.

“Not horror,” she says quickly. “I can’t handle jumpscares right now.”

“Comedy then. Something stupid and fun.”

She nods, already turning toward the living room. “Jackson?”

“Already in there,” I tell her. “Been staring at the wall for the past hour.”

When we get to the living room, Jackson's sprawled across one end of the massive sectional couch, laptop balanced on his thighs but the screen dark. He looks up when we enter, and I see the moment he takes in Reese's appearance. She's changed into sleep shorts and an oversized Sable Ridge t-shirt, hair pulled back in a messy bun that emphasizes the elegant line of her neck.

His pupils flare, his scent shifts. Desire and restraint at war.

“Movie night,” I announce, dropping into the middle of the couch and patting the cushion beside me. “Reese requested something stupid and fun.”

She curls against me without hesitation, tucking her legs under herself and leaning into my side. Three weeks ago, she would’ve flinched at contact. Now she seeks it. Craves it. And the easy trust of that gesture makes something unspool in my chest.

Jackson shuts his laptop and sets it aside, but he doesn’t move closer. He keeps his distance like always—near enough to be part of this, far enough to pretend he isn’t starving for it.

“What are our options?” Reese asks.

I pull up the streaming menu and start scrolling. “Ridiculous action flick? Rom-com we can mock? Coming-of-age story that’ll give Jackson a chance to rant about fake college kids?”

“Hey,” Jackson mutters. “My complaints are valid.”

“Your complaints are comprehensive,” I shoot back.

Reese laughs, lighter than she’s sounded in days. “Coming-of-age. I want to hear Jackson’s commentary.”

We settle on something innocuous about college freshmen figuring out their lives. The kind of movie made for people who never actually went to college, full of parties that would violate fourteen different housing policies and professors who apparently have nothing better to do than solve their students' personal problems.

I grab a blanket from the back of the couch and spread it over us. Reese immediately nestles closer, using my shoulder as a pillow, her hand splayed across my chest.

Innocent. Friendly. The kind of thing teammates might do.