Greykin Mountain

| 25 | Trapped

          He gazed at Damon wide-eyed, waiting for the Alpha to tell him why he was there, but Damon stared right back at him...wordlessly. Was he waiting for Jackson to talk? Why did he look like he was expecting something?

          Jackson dragged his hand over the back of his neck, and as the silence between them grew thicker by the second, he frowned unsurely. "Uh...are you...okay?"

          "No."

          "Oh...well...what's wrong?"

          "Everything."

          Jackson pouted but held his tongue. He wanted to snap and tell Damon that one-word answers weren't going to get them anywhere, but he didn't want to risk upsetting the already irritated man.

          Instead, he asked, "Where's Alpha Aysel?"

          "Resting."

          "What about the hunting party—are they back yet?"

          "No."

          "Oh, okay."

          Jackson looked down at his lap and tried to think of anything else to say. Damon had to be in here for a reason, and he was sure the Alpha wouldn't reveal that reason until Jackson said something that Damon could use to make it seem as though Jackson had started the conversation. It wouldn't be the first time.

          He frowned, looked around the bare room, glanced at Damon, and then looked down at his lap again. "I, uh...I had—"

          "I'm sorry for earlier."

          Jackson looked over at him.

          "Did I hurt you?" he asked with what sounded like sorrow in his voice.

          "No," Jackson answered, shaking his head. "It's fine."

          "Is it?"

          He shrugged. "Yeah." But then he realized he was doing the same thing as Damon. This wasn't going to go anywhere, was it? He sighed and looked down at his lap once more. "Well...I don't know. You kinda said something that my stepdad used to say, and it made me think of him."

          "What did I say?"

          "You said you were teaching me a lesson," he said, looking at Damon, who adorned a guilty frown. "Eric used to say that every time he hit or slapped me for doing something he deemed wrong. He wanted to mold me into a snooty rich boy like the rest of his family, and my mom jumped on the bandwagon soon enough. I don't blame her, though. She was just trying to look out for us both."

          "He beat you because—"

          "He didn't beat me, no. He just...hit me once or twice. You know...scolding."

          Damon kept his frown but seemed to ponder for a moment. "I'm sorry. I'll try not to say that again."

          Jackson shrugged, looking down at the blanket. "It wouldn't be a problem if I'd gone to therapy, right?" he said with a quiet laugh. "Wilson always said it was a waste of time, so he convinced me otherwise."

          "Does talking about it help you?"

          "I mean...a little. I guess it helps me process it, which kinda helps me move on."

          "Do you want to talk about it?"

          He looked at the Alpha and frowned. "What? To...to you?"