Freeing Anvi

Chapter Six

"And here is the pack house," Jackson continues to ramble on excitedly, like he's a child showing me his action figure collection. "We usually have meetings here, but sometimes it's used as a place for parents to drop their kids for babysitting. Or sometimes teens come here to hang out and play video games." Through the window, he points to the console that stands atop a table in what I think is one of the living rooms.

"There's no daycare?"

"We're making one." As we pass the pack house and move down the street, Jackson gestures to a tall unfinished building that stands close to what is probably the largest house I've ever seen in my life. "Obviously, teens don't make very good babysitters, well, most teens anyway." He chuckles. "Mothers kept complaining, so we all got together and drafted an outline for a daycare."

"Do you have anybody already hired?"

"Yeah," Jackson nods. "A few college kids. They seem to be more responsible than the teenagers, anyway. They've gone to school for the job, so they're qualified."

"You could always give the teens tutoring jobs," I suggest. "It's what I used to do. The pay isn't bad for that age and it turned out to be more useful in my studies too."

"Hm." Jackson seems to think about that. "That's not a bad idea, actually." He squeezes my hand. "I'll bring it up in my next meeting."

"Why do you have meetings?" I let my gaze travel around the garden that guards the unfinished daycare. "I mean, don't you make all the decisions?"

"I make the final decisions," Jackson explains. "I have a cabinet who helps me, so it's not completely my choice." He pauses. "Think of it as a government, in a way. I'm the president, so I can veto and pass ideas, but the cabinet is the one that comes up with most of them."

"So...a monarchist government, is what you're saying?" I tease.

Jackson's cheeks flush. "Something like that, although I try not to be so much of a monarch and more like a President. That's why I have a cabinet to help me. So, my pack knows I'm not in complete control."

"Despite you making the final decisions," I point out.

"Yes, despite me making the final choice," Jackson agrees. He notices my skeptical stare and shrugs sheepishly. "Hey, I'm trying, okay? Between evil Alphas and nosey humans, I have a shit-ton of food on my plate."

"It's your job," I laugh. "You'll have to get accustomed to it."

Jackson laughs with me. "I have," he says. "I've been King since I was sixteen, when my father passed."

"Oh." I stop laughing. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay." Jackson shakes my apology off. He doesn't seem the least bit upset about it. He speaks as if it's a common fact - something that shouldn't be dwelled on for long. "It's not something I think about too often, you know?"

"I get it," I say quietly. I look down at the grass and just narrowly avoid tripping over a stone that somehow magically appeared in front of me. "How did he...?"

"Heart attack," Jackson replies. "He'd always had heart problems. He was a smoker in his youth and drank a lot, so my mom and I weren't too surprised when he began to have small strokes and stuff."

"Sounds like he went through a lot," I say and I'm not sure if I'm saying it to Jackson or to myself.

"He did, but he never showed it," Jackson answers. "My dad always kept his emotions to himself. He never wanted to burden other people with his problems. As his health worsened, my mom began to take charge of the pack, but he still insisted on working." He laughs dryly. "He reminds me of you, now that I think about it?"