Andie had tearfully promised Jim that he'd take care of Jake anyway. And he’d kept his promise; he’d made sure Jake ate and slept and had someone to talk to. Someone who’d sit right next to him when he didn’t want to talk. He made sure Jake didn’t work too hard at the ranch. He made sure Jake started laughing again. He made sure Jake knew he was loved.

There were things that changed, however, that Andie couldn’t seem to put right. The primary example of this was the recent, sudden reversal of Jake’s decision to attend college in the fall. Jake said he was needed at home. Amy needed him, and his mother needed him. Jim’s boys needed a father figure around. Jake had been thinking about it, he said, and he didn’t think he wanted to go to college anyway. He wanted to get into ranching full-time. He could always go to college later if he felt like it. But not this year.

Andie had argued the point with Jake until he was blue in the face. Had pointed out that Aunt Amy wanted Jake to go to college, too. That she was a strong and capable woman, that she already had a job and childcare for the boys lined up, and that Jake’s mother could take care of herself, too, if she ever chose to. “I know you miss Jim, Jake, but you don’t have to take over his life and all of his responsibilities. I don’t think Jim wanted that. He was excited that you were going to be a Longhorn. He was proud that you got those scholarships. He always bragged about how smart you are. You just turned nineteen, Jake. Jim wasn’t taking care of all these other people when he was nineteen. How are you going to do that with an entry-level ranch job?”

None of Andie’s arguments had worked, though, and when he started to get scared that he really would have to go off to college without Jake come August, he’d played his best card. In late March of Andie’s senior year, on a night when Andie’s father thought he was on a short Spring Break road trip with a couple of friends, Jake and Andie had gone to a hunting cabin loaned to Jake by a fellow ranch employee and, in a candlelit scene, Jake Rivera had formally claimed Andie Dahl as his own. It wasn’t their first time being intimate. That had taken place just after Andie’s seventeenth birthday the previous summer and had been repeated whenever the opportunity presented itself, which was less often than either of them would have liked, given the watchful eyes of Andie’s father and Jake’s aunt.

It was Jake who did the claiming, but it was Andie who started the conversation about doing it. They’d gotten close several times already in the heat of the moment, but Jake had always managed to hold himself back. Maybe, though, Andie had thought, maybe the claim will help him see how much we need to stay together. Maybe he’ll be less scared and sad all the time.

Andie knew it might not change Jake’s mind, but he thought it was worth trying.

Besides, Andie wanted the claim, too. He had always planned for Jake to claim him someday. He was just speeding up the timetable a little. Even if it didn’t change Jake’s mind at first, at least Andie wouldn’t have to worry about anyone else trying to force-claim him in Austin. College campuses were, as everyone well knew, a hot zone for both sexual assault and forced claims. If Jake claimed him now, then there was no way some other Alpha could derail their plans to spend their lives together. So the claim was a practical and responsible decision, really.

Andie’s mind had been made up about it, and it hadn’t taken too much work to convince Jake that the time for the claim had come. Although Jake was refusing to go to college with Andie, he was clearly nervous about Andie going off by himself. He was what Andie called “pre-jealous” of the hordes of people he was convinced were going to trail after Andie in hopes of an opportunity to win him over. The claim might fix that issue, too. So Andie had planned everything, Jake had gotten the cabin key, and that was that. It wasn’t quite the fairy tale event Andie had imagined for them– it had been kind of intense and painful and, frankly, a little bit scary, but it was done.

At first, Andie wasn’t certain the claim had even taken. They were both on the young side, especially Andie. Claims didn’t generally ‘take’ until both partners had achieved full sexual maturity in terms of scent glands. After a few weeks, though, Andie had begun to detect little hints of Jake’s scent on himself, even when he’d just gotten out of the shower. So he thought the claim bite probably had worked.

Andie’s dad was a Beta, so he only had to visually hide the claim site from his dad, which was no big deal because he didn't run around shirtless very often anymore. He’d graduate before the scent became too obvious to be explained by daily contact with Jake, so his Alpha and Omega teachers wouldn’t be able to tip Oskar off… Seventeen was the age of consent in Texas, so they hadn’t done anything illegal. Once Andie turned eighteen and got to college, he’d be an independent and legal adult, and it would be a non-issue. Easy-peasy.

Or, it might have been…if Jake’s ‘pre-jealousy’ hadn’t escalated in intensity after the claim rather than dying down as planned. If his aggression towards other Alphas who weren’t purely theoretical hadn’t ramped up, too, and if he hadn’t dug in twice as hard on the college issue since the claim. If they weren’t arguing all the time over every little thing.

Andie’s fuse had gotten pretty damned short post-claim, too, truth be told. They had started getting into small squabbles and big arguments in a way that they never had before. Andie wasn’t unduly concerned, though. It would blow over. All of this could be chalked up to the claim and the pheromone changes and Jim’s death and Andie's graduation and everything else that was going on. If Jake wasn’t so stubborn, everything would be fine. If he would just stop talking about staying and working on the ranch, everything would work out! But Jake was dug in, thus their current argument about the relative value of a career in ranching.

Jake snorted derisively. “Have you ever tasted lab-grown beef, Andie? Yeah, me neither. Because it’s slow, and expensive to make, and it ain’t gonna taste like a pasture-raised steer. Ranches aren’t going anywhere, not in twenty years and probably not in a hundred years, either. I’m already making twelve dollars an hour, Andie. And I’ll be making more than that before much longer, so let’s not worry about inflation, John Maynard Keynes,” tacked on Jake with all the educated scorn of a kid whose boyfriend had forced him to take AP Economics his senior year instead of just regular level. “College is a dubious investment, and I can show you ten different articles that say so.”

“That’s when you don’t have scholarships, and you don’t get a degree for a field that is relevant and in-demand, Jake. I’m not suggesting you go to get a degree in French Literature. If you really want to, you can study ranching or cattle and come back qualified to work in land management or whatever… but… what about the life I want to have, a life that doesn’t keep us tied to Texas until we die? I’m going to get a degree that will let me work all kinds of places, Jake. I’m gonna be a nationally board-certified teacher before I’m done. In science. Do you know how big the teacher shortage is right now? Especially in math and science? We could probably go live anywhere. Hell, I could even go teach English abroad for a year or two, and we could have a whole adventure! In China or Korea, or somewhere! Maybe I’ll study another language besides Spanish while I’m at UT just for that reason.”

“What’s so wrong with Texas, Andie? You love Austin. We can live near Austin if you want.”

“What’s wrong with Texas? Probably nothing, if I was put together like you.” Andie gestured at Jake’s very tall, broad-shouldered frame and obnoxiously handsome, strong-jawed face. “You’re like… Mr. Texas. I, on the other hand, look a whole lot more like I’m a contestant in the Miss Mississippi pageant, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“You’d skunk every other contestant; I’ve noticed that much. You look fine today, Andie,” said Jake, appreciatively eyeing his mate in his cut-offs and knotted-up t-shirt, his tiny waist and the subtle flare of his hips exposed for Jake’s delectation.

“Stop trying to distract me. You try being a five-foot four-inch tall guy with a ponytail and a big ass in Meridian, Texas, Jake. In a skirt. I don’t fit the mold of Texan manhood, you know? Everybody stares at me all the time.”

“Did somebody say something to you?” Jake demanded in a dangerous tone.

“No, I mean, not really. Probably because they know you’re coming for them if they tick me off. But, I want to live somewhere where people don’t treat me like I’m strange, Jake.”

“Andie, you are strange.”

“Shut up, I’m being serious right now.”

“So am I. If you think that there’s anywhere on this planet where people won’t stare at you and think you’re different, you’re crazy. You’re strange in that you’re special. Wherever you go, you will stand out. Wherever you go, people are going to be interested in you, and they're going to look.”

“Well, at least let me be one of many interesting people, then Jake.”

“That’s why I’m saying we can live near Austin.”

“Austin’s still in Texas, Jake! Drive thirty minutes in any direction, and I’m going to end up being a freak again. Don’t even get me started on the religious nuts.”

“That reminds me of a joke… Why don’t Baptists have sex standing up?”

“…Because people might think that they’re dancing. That joke’s a million years old. Quit trying to change the subject! Jake, you need to go to college if you want to have choices in this world. You may not want to work on a ranch forever. And I don’t want to go without you. We’re mates. Fated mates. We’re supposed to stay together.”

“It’s only a two-hour drive from here to Austin, Andie. We can see each other every weekend and in between, too, if we want.” Jake pulled Andie close and wrapped his arms around him, shoving a hand in Andie’s back pocket and giving him a squeeze. “It’ll all work out. You’ll see. I’ll take care of you. I’ll take care of everything.”