“Love and Thunder?” Jackson’s appellation is evident in the exclamation he lets out. “This is the movie that you want to see?”
I blush. “What? It’s a good movie. Romance and sci-fi with hints of fantasy.” I sigh. “It’s such a beautiful combination.”
“I didn’t mean it in a bad way,” Jackson backtracks. “I like Henry Spellbound’s movies too. I just didn’t expect you to be a sci-fi fanatic.” He loops his arm around my shoulders as we walk into the movie theater. “Did you watch the prequel?”
“Bones and Lightning?” I ask. “Of course!” I smirk. “Hailey snuck me a copy of the movie and we watched it at night after Alpha Banastre fell asleep.”
“Why, Anvi!” Jackson feigns shock. “I didn’t know you were so sneaky!”
I shrug. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Jackson.” I reach for his hand, brushing his fingertips. “That’s why we’re here.”
He smiles. “It is,” he agrees. “But even if we weren’t able to get this day together, I’m content with the moments we steal from our other tasks.” His smile turns upside down. “I only wonder if I’m ditching my job one too many times.”
“You’re doing the best you can. Your pack knows that.” I squeeze his hand. “Oscar is upset – rightfully – but that doesn’t mean that you aren’t trying. Whoever this murderer is…he’s good.”
“He’s probably done this type of job before.” Jackson scowls. “A first-timer couldn’t get a murder done right the first time and even if they could, getting into the pack without passing through the gate is nearly impossible.”
“At least, we thought it was,” I mumble, looking up as we reach the ticket booth.
Jackson sighs deeply and stuffs his hands into his jean pockets. “I’m sorry, Anvi,” he says quietly. “This is supposed to be a date, and I keep talking about the pack problems.” He hands some money to the teenage girl at the ticket counter and takes the tickets wordlessly.
“It’s fine, I understand that you need to vent,” I say. “But what’s happening is happening. We can’t spend every moment of our life focusing on the murder.”
“But it’s my job,” Jackson stressed. We both walked up the theater seats and took a middle-row to sit in. He pushed his chair down and plopped on the cushions with a frown. “What kind of Alpha King am I if I can’t solve this quickly, Anvi? I’ve been doing this job for years! I should have a better understanding of these murderers by now.”
“You can’t understand everybody,” I say, trying to placate him. “People are different. The way you think isn’t the way I do, and it may not be the way that this murderer is thinking.”
“Hm, I guess so,” Jackson admits, grumbling. The lights dim and the previews begin to roll on, playing like an old movie. “Anvi?”
“Yes?”
“Why did Adonis give you Sara’s picture?” Jackson keeps his eyes on the screen. “Where did he get it from?”
“He said it was on the desk in my room,” I reply, transfixed by the blend of watercolors that make shapes of Disney characters on the screen. “He sort-of mumbled his way through it, but I think he said that it was supposed to be given to me, or something like that.”
Jackson hums again. “That was a picture from the attic,” he muses. “When Sara died, I packed everything away. How it got on your desk…” he shakes his head. “Never mind. I’ll worry about it later.”
“Now you’ve got me curious,” I say, lowering my voice as more people enter the theater. “If you didn’t mean for me to see it, then who did?”
“If Adonis gave it to you, then it was most likely him,” Jackson responds. A look in his eyes tells me that he’s also transfixed on the previews. “I’ll ask him when we get home why. I hadn’t planned to tell you about Sara so early, although in hindsight I suppose I shouldn’t have kept any secrets from you.”
I shrug. “I kept secrets from you too,” I say. “Relationships are something new to me.”
“Not to me,” Jackson mutters. “I should have known better.”
I sigh. “Enough about the past.” I lean up and kiss his cheek. “Let’s just enjoy the movie. Do you know what it’s about?”
“Well, from the trailers I saw, I remember Lovejoy and Fox were still in the Palace of Zeus…”
~***~
“Chocolate ice cream is your favorite?” Jackson asks me, licking his strawberry cone.
I nod. We’re sitting outside on a patio table in front of a small, cute café with a view of the lake as it dips into the rippling blue water, melting and blending the colors like the previews we saw at the movies. Faintly, I remember the shy press against my side as Jackson tried to subtly (although it wasn’t very subtle) put his arm around my shoulders. He’d done it so many times before, I don’t know why he was so unsure to do it in the theater.
“Everybody else liked vanilla,” I recall. “But I wanted to be different than the other first graders, so I chose chocolate.” I lick the tip. “It turned out to be really good, though.”
“To each his own,” Jackson laughs. “I prefer strawberry or vanilla. Chocolate never sat well with my stomach.”
“That goes with me a chili,” I say, grinning. “It tastes good in biriyani, but oh god the aftermath?” I shiver. “It’s like I have hell in my stomach.”
Jackson smirks. “I know how you feel,” he says. “And I’ll make a mental note about the chili. They used to serve it a lot when I went to college here.” He pauses. “Speaking of college, how’s that going? I meant to help you out earlier but…well…you know what came up.”
I shrug. “College is going well,” I say. “I have my essay due soon but it’s a pretty easy prompt.”
“What are you majoring in?”
“I chose art.” I twirl my tongue around my cone, lapping up the dripping chocolate, then around my lips to clean them. “I’ve always been fascinated by the different shapes embedded in our life. I also love to draw.”
“What do you like to draw?”
“Anything.” I survey the area around the café. “I can draw the café. The lake. The setting sun. You.” I smile under my cone. “And even if I can’t, it’s fun to try.”
Jackson smiles warmly. “You’re a very optimistic person, Anvi,” he mentions. “But I’ve seen you draw before. You’re really good!”
“Thank you.” I beam. “What about you? What do you like to do?”
Jackson chuckles. “Watch football, mostly,” he says. “And cook. I also like to play the violin.”
“Violin? You play?” Intrigued, I lean closer to him over the table. “When? I’ve never seen you play before.”
“I haven’t gotten the chance to play,” Jackson responds. “But maybe tonight I can play for you.”
“Do you know any songs?”
“Oh, sure. A lot of them. Do you play an instrument?”
“Dang, I wish.” I laugh, and Jackson snickers. “I was never gifted in that artistic department. Instruments seemed to cry every time I played them.”
“I’m sure that’s not true.” Jackson’s cheeks are puffed to keep from laughing.
I roll my eyes. “You can laugh. I know it’s true.” I let out a giggle to provoke him, and sure enough, Jackson can’t hold it in anymore and lets out a string of laughter.
“I’m sorry, that’s so rude.” He holds his chest. “But when you said that they cried every time you held them, well, I couldn’t hold it in!”
“It’s fine.” I bite my cone. “It’s why I prefer art. It’s easier on my hands and doesn’t make the sound of a dying pig when I play it.” A light smile crosses my lips. “I used to volunteer at the daycare in my school and I’d teach the kids how to paint there. Sometimes they’d ask me to draw for them.”
“That’s sweet,” Jackson murmurs. “Did you like them?”
“The kids?” He nods. “Oh, of course! They were adorable!”
“They are adorable,” he agrees, gazing at a family as they walk past us. “Although, toddlers do seem to have a temper.”
I snort. “Try teenagers. They’re even worse.” I lean back in my seat with a sigh and stretch my arms above my head. “But all the same, I love kids.”
“Do you want kids?”
“Sure, I do,” I say. My voice softens. I’m hesitant. “What about you?”
“I do too,” Jackson says, and a stone lifts in my chest. “I haven’t been around kids a lot, but they’re fun. They say the funniest things sometimes.”
“Yeah, and sometimes they roast the hell out of you,” I add. We both laugh.
“That’s true.” He nods. “They do.” His phone buzzes in his pocket, and with a frown, Jackson lifts it up on the table.
“Is everything okay?”
“Just Ben.” He tucks his phone away, reaches over the table, and squeezes my hand. “I’ll get back to him tomorrow.”
I nibble on my lower lip. “We should be heading back anyway, though, shouldn’t we? It’s getting dark.”
Jackson turns in his chair to view the sky. “If you want to.” There’s some disappointment in his voice as he stands. “But I have to admit, I was enjoying our time here together…alone.”
A blush burns my cheeks and I stand with his help. He holds me for a moment, silently, then kisses me, holding my hair with one hand and my waist with another.
“This day was amazing, Anvi,” he murmurs, his lips brushing my ear. “Thank you, for letting me spend it with you.”
My stomach tightens. “We have eternity, right?” I say, wondering where all my confidence from earlier has gone, because I really could have used it right now. “There’ll be more of these moments, I’m sure of it.”
“I’ll make it happen.” Jackson kisses both of my hands and together, we walk down the cobblestone street back to the entrance of the forest, passing Han-Seok and Hanako’s barred-off death spot as we make our way to the pack. My stomach feels icy just looking at the yellow tape all over the place, but Jackson’s squeeze reassures me that we’ll find this person and put them in the hands of justice soon. For everyone’s safety.
Delia is pacing on the steps when we arrive. She wrings her hands together and mumbles to herself in a foreign language. Jackson, who seems to understand what she’s saying, halts at the porch steps and asks her a question in the language. Delia freezes, then nods. Jackson’s chest drops.
“Hey, Delia,” I begin tentatively, glancing between Delia and Jackson, who now is shifting on his feet like he has to use the restroom. “Is everything okay?”
“I…no, no, not everything is okay,” Delia mumbles.
“Oh? What’s wrong?” Panic seizes my chest. “Has there been another murder? Everyone is okay, right?”
“Yes, yes, Luna, everything is alright. I…” Delia hesitates. She looks pleadingly at Jackson.
He sighs. “I can’t do this for you, Delia. You have to.”
“Have to what?” I keep my impatience at bay. “Delia, what’s wrong?” I let go of Jackson’s hand and step towards her, holding my hands up so that she can see that I won’t do anything to her, even though I would never do anything to hurt Delia. “Do you need help? Is something wrong? All the magic from my day washes off of me, and I find myself slipping back into Luna Queen mode – a mode that I’ve had to force myself to switch to many times so I’m surprised at how easily it came to me.
“Nothing’s wrong, Luna,” Delia says, taking a shaky breath. “It’s just…I’m just…” she bites her lip, contemplating, and twirls a strand of her hair in her fingers.
“You…?”
“I have to tell you something.” Her dark eyes harden with resolve and her voice is as dull as a stone. “Now.”
