Rise of the Underdogs: JACOB

Looking Back to Move On

I sat in the room where I’d grown up, surrounded by the echoes of a life that felt both familiar and impossibly distant. The posters on the walls hadn’t changed, their corners curled with time. In the corner, the football-shaped toy chest still stood guard over childhood treasures I hadn’t touched in years. And there, on the door, was the dent—Wynter’s prank gone too far, the one that nearly sent my head through solid wood. I’d laughed then. Now, it just made me ache.

The keys jingled in my hand, a sound that felt louder than it should have in the quiet. Tears burned behind my eyes, sharp and uninvited, as memories surged forward with a force I hadn’t prepared for.

It had been nearly four years since I’d stepped inside this house. Four years of trying to outrun the grief that came with losing the man I mirrored—my father. The ache hadn’t dulled. I simply learned how to live with it.

When I unlocked the door earlier, the scent of dust and aged furniture hit me like a punch to the chest. I didn’t even make it past the threshold before I broke. I cried for an hour, maybe more. And I’m not ashamed of that.

If anyone reading this thinks that makes me less of a man, I have one thing to say: Shut your damn face. Less of a man would be hurting people weaker than me just because I could. Weeping over a tragic loss was just a release of pent-up emotions.

The house hadn’t changed, but I had. The walls still held the same faded paint, the same scuff marks from years of chaos and laughter. But the silence now felt heavier, like it had learned to settle into the corners after he left. I walked through each room slowly, letting the memories rise without resistance. They came in fragments, but they came. Unbidden, unwanted, but not really unwelcomed.

I could still hear Dad’s voice echoing down the hallway, the scent of his cologne lingering faintly in the study. I could still hear him chasing Wynter through the fields after getting pranked, and the way he used to knock twice – two sharp, clear thrums against the frame – before entering my room, even when the door was wide open.

Grief, I learned, didn’t ask permission. It just moves in, rearranges everything, and dares you to pretend it’s not there. I stopped pretending a long time ago.

My grief had become part of me and my personality. Transforming my normal humour to a darker, somewhat more cynical world view.

Dad had been the tested and tried backbone of the family. the man who taught me and my siblings to read and fight. The one who would gather all seven of his pups in one room to read a bedtime story or watch what he called “educational” films while Mom was out handling Alliance business. Mom, on the other hand, was, and still is, the matriarch able to roast a Werewolf’s ass over an open flame while ensuring they knew she wasn’t someone to cross.

The movies weren’t educational, per se, but the notion of spending quality time with his pups was. He was showing us without words that, when you treat the bond as sacred, love finds a way. He taught his boys that a happy female Mate meant a lifetime of adoration and love in silent, simple actions that often spoke in screams despite their quiet nature. Taught us that looking out for one another was not about control, but the need to know your loved ones were safe from deliberate harm.

I got up, walking over to where the doorframe was scored several times over the years before Dad was lost in the Rogue War that happened three full years and three-quarters of a year ago.

Marks on the frame weren’t random. They were growth lines with mine and Paul’s names on them.

Yes, we shared a room. Two twin captain’s beds with clearly marked cubbies where our childhood storybooks were stacked and kept safe were in our room and two toy chests – both footballs – with our names stamped into the front.

Walking the hall, I moved past Quartz, Wynter, and Heaven’s shared room. Glancing inside, I took inventory of the bunk bed and smaller twin bed arranged neatly with three low, mirrored dressers, and three distinctly marked wardrobes. I smiled sadly as I passed the room Gavin and Jackson shared one half painted in a forest scene, the other half painted army green camo. A set of bunk beds, two tallboy dressers, and a dartboard with the high school bully’s picture dead center.

Yeah, they were the volatile siblings with chips on their shoulders and macho man ideals that were tested constantly by our more level-headed sisters. Well, mostly by Wynter, who never missed an opportunity to prove that fear can come in the form of a tiny terror who enjoyed basking in the aftermath of a good prank done right.

Blinking back tears, I raked my hands through my hair. My sibs would never again share a room. They, like me, had their sense of security damaged and gave them a lifetime subscription to Grief Weekly.

Someone cleared their throat, and I turned to see my older sister standing there, her own baby nestled in a sling as she carried cleaning supplies. Her Mate, Harrington Thorn of the Starlight Coven – Mom’s coven – walked in behind her, his eyes wide as he spotted me.

Quartz smiled sadly, knowing what I was working through in the calm silence of the house we grew up in. “Are you alright, Jake?”

I didn’t want to lie, but the truth hurt just as much. Instead, I said, “I will be. I… I had to come back. To face it on my own the way the rest of you have already.”

Harrington moved to my side, his keen silvery-blue eyes searching my face for signs of dishonesty. “You’re strong, Jacob. Coming here, walking through on your own and not destroying anything? That right there takes a strength not many own.”

“It’s how I was raised, Harry. Besides, I watched my Alpha pull through the most devastating grief imaginable. If even for a moment he thought I would need him, Logan would be here for me.”

Quartz smiled wider, “That boy was always his own wildfire. But he burned differently. He was brighter, calmer, and far more centered because of Aunt Mariana.”

“I don’t think I ever met her,” Harry whispered.

“She was Logan’s mother, his Madre,” I said, a quiet reverence taking residence in my words. “A Mexican she-wolf with a gentle hand and a heart bigger than Jackson’s ego.”

Harry snickered a laugh, “There’s no arguing that one. So, you’re just reconnecting?”

“Yeah, in a way. My bestie just left for Russia, and I’m basically completely alone. Got my hands full with my Luna-to-be, though,” I replied, gently touching the picture frame that held the family portrait. “Quartz, can I get a copy of this one? I know you and Harry are living here now, but…”

Her hands gently swiped my cheeks where tears had fought their way past my defenses. “You don’t need a copy. Just take the picture, baby brother. Everyone else already took what they wanted out of here.”

Blinking, I took the frame off the wall. “I’m moving into the Howler packhouse. My rooms there are already set up, but I was missing something. Now I found it. by the way, what’s going to happen to the old beds and stuff in mine and Paul’s room?”

“I was actually thinking of donating the toys to Alliance Academy,” my older sister said softly. “Have you heard from Valik yet?”

That was actually a pretty decent idea, if I was being completely honest. “I did. He messaged as soon as he was able to use his phone, but he’s set in his ways like his brother is. He’s determined to go through the training Prince Blaze has him enlisted for. As for the toys, maybe we can hold a family vote. Those who want to hold onto theirs can, those who don’t mind can donate. Deal?”

She smiled, “Of course. You always were one for solving puzzles others had problems with. You’re currently the only Delta wolf in the country.”

“Paw-lease, I’m the first Delta wolf in over a century because it’s the only role that fit my personality,” I stated, falling back into my usual humour. “I’d like to work with you to move my stuff to my room on Howler territory. Everything. I’ll donate my toys to the kids center Ember wants to create.”

The grins on their faces told me every word I said was right

Harry nodded, his eyes shimmering, “I’ll help you, Jake. Our Sorcerer powers work well together, and the girls will likely want to join as well.”

“Great! Then it’s settled. I’ll take my stuff, you guys connect with the others to find out their thoughts. Then we go from there. Is Jack still looking for a place?”

Quartz shook her head, “No, Helen and I decided to have our two families move in together. She and Jack are taking the room I used to share with Heaven and Wynter while Harrington and I are taking momma and daddy’s old room. The other two rooms will be for the children. My pups are getting your old room.”

She didn’t have to say who got Jack’s old room. It was obvious to anyone with a working brain.

“Well, at least the house isn’t going to waste.” I said, my voice holding a soft note of reverence.