Chapter 67 — Jealous

Grant knew Hallie had spoken to him because the distance between them had changed. Not much. Just enough that when she crossed the yard after the young Alpha, she came toward Grant instead of stopping where politeness would have put her.

Caleb had already gone inside with the final contact list. Grant held the work board notes in one hand. Hallie looked at them.

“Done?”

“For today.”

“And tomorrow?”

“One last review.”

She nodded. Neither of them mentioned what he had seen from across the yard. The visiting Alpha standing with her.

Hallie listening. The two of them speaking with the ease that had made half the people around the public table start building a future for them without permission. Grant had told Hallie before that he was jealous.

He had meant it. He had not understood how much easier the word was to say in a quiet corridor than to carry in daylight while everyone else saw the same possibility. Hallie started toward the common room.

Grant walked beside her.

After several steps, she said, “You’re quiet.”

“I’m thinking.”

“That is usually dangerous.”

His mouth almost moved. Hallie glanced at him. Grant looked ahead.

“I saw you talking to him.”

“I assumed you did.”

“I didn’t hear it.”

She waited, giving him the time to answer for himself.

Grant could feel emotion when someone was close enough. Not thoughts. Not reasons. Not the shape of a choice.

He would not turn what he sensed into an answer Hallie had not given him.

“I wanted to ask what he said,” Grant admitted.

“You can ask.”

“I also wanted not to.”

Hallie slowed.

“Why?”

Grant stopped with her.

The yard had emptied enough that no one was close. The visiting party was inside their quarters. Cedar Draw had settled back into evening work.

Grant looked at Hallie.

“Because I was jealous.”

She did not flinch. He continued before silence could make the admission sound heavier than he intended.

“That doesn’t give me the right to know every conversation you have with him.”

“No.”

“It doesn’t give me the right to decide what you should feel.”

“No.”

“Or who you should want.”

Hallie’s expression softened slightly.

“No.”

Grant exhaled. The word still sat badly in his chest. Jealous.

He had spent years treating emotions as information to be controlled before anyone else could use them against him. With Hallie, control kept turning into another kind of distance.

“I don’t like that he makes sense for you,” he said.

Hallie stayed still.

“He represents something I can’t offer.”

“What?”

Grant gave her the answer he had avoided making too simple.

“Normality.”

Her brow drew together.

“Social normality,” he added. “A recognized Alpha. A traditional pack. A Luna role everyone understands before you say a word.”

Hallie looked away toward the common room. Grant watched her profile.

“I can give you a place here,” he said. “But I can’t make the outside world stop asking what that place is.”

“I know.”

“With him, they wouldn’t ask.”

“No.”

“They’d see the two of you and think the answer was obvious.”

Hallie’s gaze returned to his.

“They already did.”

Grant’s jaw tightened. That was worse than he expected, though he had seen enough to know it. Hallie studied him.

“You’re angry.”

“At them.”

“Only them?”

Grant considered lying. He did not.

“No.”

“At him?”

“Some.”

“At me?”

Grant answered immediately.

“No.”

The speed of it made Hallie’s mouth soften.

“I don’t like that he can offer you something valuable,” Grant said. “I don’t like that people can look at you beside him and understand the life he’s offering faster than they understand ours.”

Hallie did not interrupt.

“And none of that means you owe me a different choice.”

Grant forced himself to hold her gaze.

“I need you to know both things are true.”

Her expression changed. Not pity. Thank God.

“You’re allowed to be jealous,” she said.

Grant let out a rough breath.

“That still sounds dangerous.”

“Feeling it isn’t the dangerous part.”

“What is?”

“Pretending it isn’t there until you start making decisions around it.”

Grant thought of the afternoon he had spent finding reasons to be elsewhere.

“Fair.”

Hallie stepped closer. Not far. Enough that Grant could feel the shift in her before she touched him.

Warmth. Concern. Something steadier beneath both.

He did not name any of it for her. Hallie lifted her hand and rested it against his chest. Brief.

Open palm over his shirt. Grant went completely still. The contact was affectionate in a way that had nothing to do with public positioning, negotiation, or proving anything to anyone.

She had chosen it because they were alone. Because he had told her the truth. Grant wanted to cover her hand with his; the impulse reached his fingers before he stopped it.

He let the want remain visible in the tension of his hand instead. Hallie kept her palm against his chest for two breaths. Then three.

“You don’t have to like him,” she said.

“I don’t.”

“I noticed.”

Grant almost smiled.

“You also don’t have to like what he represents.”

“I don’t.”

“But don’t turn that into something I have to fix for you.”

“I won’t.”

“And don’t disappear.”

Grant looked down at her hand.

“I’m trying not to.”

“Try harder.”

This time he did smile. Small. Hallie’s fingers shifted once against his chest.

Then she lowered her hand. Grant’s chest felt abruptly colder where it had been. He let her take the space back.

The jealousy remained. So did the fear underneath it. But neither was hidden now.

Hallie looked toward the common room before the silence could turn into reassurance.

“One last review tomorrow.”

“Yes.”

“And then the agreement is done.”

“If nothing breaks.”

“Something always breaks.”

“Then we fix it.”

She started walking again. Grant fell into step beside her.

The final review was tomorrow. If nothing broke, the agreement was done.