Chapter Text
Dita Bachchan’s initials were JS.
It was a fucking joke. John Smith was practically a stereotype of a common name. Add to that the hundreds or thousands of variants she could be looking at, and Dita’s soulmate could’ve been a needle in a fucking haystack. Every person at school with JS initials could’ve been the one; she wouldn’t even know until she was 21. And none of them ever had an NB on their skin, and none of them were ever nice about it.
It got even fucking worse when she hit puberty.
Like the universe had a sick sense of humour, the space on her chest where the JS was emblazoned on her skin was on her cleavage. She would pull open her shirt and there it was for all to see, the proof she was marked as someone else’s, as though the initial lack of connection at their physical touch wasn’t enough to confirm it. After the first couple comments had come in about the placement, Dita had stopped wearing low-cut shirts altogether. Otherwise she would catch lingering eyes checking out the letters.
College was better than high school; lots of people had letters in weird places, and only the creepiest of assholes were still making comments about the way the JS looked when she wore a crop top. She usually had something on hand to make them shut up.
But getting laid was- yeah, it was hard. Getting back to her room and doing a Clark Kent with her button-up shirt would reveal to the guy she’d brought back that her boobs were literally stamped with possibly another man’s name, and the excuses would start coming and pretty soon Dita just stopped trying to hook up with the guys at college, because pretty much all of them reacted the same way.
She knocked around Chicago for a couple of years, training to be a psychologist on the police force, but time passed and being around her parents felt like her life was draining way. Taking some leave, she drove back to Missoula to visit some old friends, get out of the city, and away from the nagging expectations she was constantly drowned with.
Then she got lost on a wrong turning, ran out of gas, and two hours later Sheriff Whitehorse drove her to Hope County to get her car towed and gassed. Passing through the place, Dita couldn’t stop the wonder that filled her. She put in for a transfer two weeks later, packed up her apartment in Chicago, and moved into a little house in Fall’s End, taking a job as a rookie deputy. She’d never felt more at home anywhere else than the little backwater county, even if there was a cult hiding in the bowels.
Of course, then Whitehorse put her on that one road after there had been reports of speeding vehicles going down it late at night. She’d pulled over a Peggie truck going 35 miles over the speed limit, and Jacob Seed got out of the car and refused to be arrested, baiting her into a little game of tag.
And the moment her fingertips brushed his pulse, her whole world crawled to a stop, and the spot on her chest where her initials sat burned like warm water was rushing over her skin under the green uniform shirt.
Jacob spoke first. “Shit,” he breathed.
Dita snatched her hand back, staring at her fingers, confusion and horror and shock all rolling through her. “No, what?” she managed. “What? What?”
Jacob yanked his shirt up, turning to let the light fall over his chest and show the now silvery-pale N B just above his ribs in the wing mirror.
“Well, shit,” he began, turning to face her again.
Dita’s eyes locked onto the initials, blood pounding in her head. This was insane. She had never gone looking for her soulmate, but here he was- here he was, Jacob Seed- almost twice her age and looking as lost as she was. She swallowed. This was insane. She was going to close her eyes and wake up and she would be in a world where she wasn’t the soulmate of a dude in a doomsday cult.
Jacob yanked his shirt down, grabbing his camo jacket off the back seat. “All right, let’s pretend this never happened.”
Dita shook herself awake, stepping forward as he almost recoiled away from her. “Wait, what- what are you doing?”
“Look, I can already tell you aren’t thrilled,” he slung the jacket over his shoulders, pushing his arms through, “and I don’t blame ya, all right? So I’m gonna head off and let you get back to your shift. You can’t even arrest me anyway now.”
Right. The safety laws in place to stop spousal abuse between soulmates if one of them was in law enforcement. Dita ran her hands through her hair. “Look, I never expected that the guy destined to be with me was going to be violating speed limits in the dead of night,” she pointed out. “This is a lot to take in.”
“What, so it’s the felon thing that bothers you?” he snorted.
“More the cult thing, actually,” she shot back. “And yeah, I get it, you ending up with law enforcement isn’t exactly your idea of a good time.”
For a moment, those pale eyes ran up her body, and his lips parted like he had something else he wanted to say. “Right.”
Dita shoved her cuffs in her pocket and stalked back to her cruiser. “You go back home and don’t go breaking anymore speeding laws, or I’ll have to call Earl and tell him why I can’t arrest you myself.”
“Don’t worry, soulmate, I’m not gonna make your job any harder than it is,” Jacob promised, pulling open the door to his truck. “You have a nice evening.”
“Yeah,” she pushed her chair back and put her feet up on the dashboard, “you too.”
And she watched him as he started his engine and drove off without a backward glance.
And maybe she screamed a little. Just a little. Because what the hell kind of sick cosmic joke was being played on her right now, that the JS between her tits stood not for John Smith but Jacob fucking Seed.
God, was this why she’d ended up in Hope County? Because Jacob Seed, her JS, had been here too? Dita sighed. For once in her life, it would’ve been nice to have something she’d chosen, rather than something that had been dictated to her by someone else. And even without all that, the man was in a goddamn cult, even if he was her type.
Dita let out a heavy breath as the clock struck midnight and the lights of Staci's cruiser pulled in behind her. There had to be a reason. Her soulmate was a cultist for a reason, right? Because otherwise this was just some cosmic fuckery.
"All quiet?" Staci asked as he got out of the cruiser.
"Yeah," Dita decided not to tell him about Jacob, "but to be honest, nobody's come down here this whole time. I'm gonna tell Whitehorse I think we should stop patrolling here. There's other places we could be."
Staci nodded. "All right." His eyes glanced her over. "You know, if he says yes, we might have a free night tomorrow. You wanna grab a drink or something?"
Dita swallowed down the sigh that wanted to escape her. "Pratt," she rubbed her eyes, "I have a soulmate mark on my cleavage, and I have a feeling that's gonna put you off."
His brows rose. "Uh, why- what makes you say that?"
"Because it's chased off the other twenty guys who pulled my shirt off to see it," Dita retorted. "Have a good shift."
"Right." His mouth opened and closed, and then he got back in his car and watched her drive off into the night.
Earl was still at his desk when she got in. "Quiet night?" he asked.
"Yeah," she mumbled. "It's a little creepy out there, not gonna lie."
"Mmm." The Sheriff nodded. "Something about this place that reminds you just how wild the world is outside of a big city."
"Beautiful though," Dita said, heading into the locker room. She changed out of her uniform and into her civilian clothes, zipping up her jacket to hide the newly-scarred JS that was so blatant thanks to her low cut dress. "I don't think we'll have any more trouble on that road, so if you want to put me and Staci on something else, it would be probably a better use of us."
Earl gazed at her. "Anymore?"
"Yeah, it was quiet," Dita smoothed out her dress, "so whatever the problem was, it wasn't there tonight."
"I'll consider it," Earl said. "But just in case, I want you both there tomorrow."
"Ok." Well, she wouldn't need any other justification for Pratt. “Have a good evening, Earl."
"You too, Bachchan," he replied.
Dita drank half a bottle of wine with caution and washed each glass down with a glass of water, groaning every time she played back the events of the night in her mind.
25 years she had waited to meet JS and here he was, a goddamn doomsday prepper cultist. Just her luck. Four years after she’d finally reached the age where it would even matter, her predestined beloved was a scarred-up veteran twice her age, height and weight, and god, as hot as he was, as much as that voice of his turned her on-
Dita put the empty bottle by her sink and headed to bed. Maybe it was better if she didn’t go down that thought path.
Pulling her dress off, Dita tossed it into her laundry basket and closed her closet door. She caught sight of herself in the mirror. A loud sigh escaped her. The JS on her chest was painfully obvious.
Back to avoiding low cut shirts… at least, unless she wanted to be fielding questions about who she'd been tied to for the rest of her life. Dita touched the JS out of habit and a warm shiver ran down her spine.
Huh. That was new.
She did it again, and heat pooled between her legs. Ok, ok, fun. She just hoped this wasn't doing anything weird to Jacob. If he touched the marks, would it feel the same? Better?
But all that did was conjure thoughts of those big hands under her shirt and cupping her breasts, and Dita was thinking about Jacob all over again. Of him pulling her into her truck and stripping her off and being the first person to actually touch her, to get her wet and squirming in his lap before he… ate her out? Fucked her? Fingered her?
Dammit. Dita touched the marks again, moaning softly at the gentle heat it conjured, and then she stripped, flopping onto the bed. She needed to sleep. She needed to sleep and not think about what Jacob Seed was like in bed because the man was in a cult, and even if she was supposedly his soulmate, that didn’t mean shit if he turned out to be doing awful shit to innocent people behind her back. And there wasn’t even a guarantee that he’d be good to her, was there?
And maybe he would be terrible at sex, maybe he would be amazing, she didn't know, and she had to stop thinking about that immediately, otherwise she was going to regret it, because if he was proportionate then she was doomed.
The next image her mind fed her was of her naked in Jacob’s lap as he fucked her on a very well-sized-
For god’s sake, go the fuck to bed. You know he’s not interested anyway. He was pretty keen to get the hell out of there after you activated the bond. He probably expected someone older. He probably thought you’re immature as hell. If he’d wanted you, he would’ve said something, but no, he immediately wanted to go. That’s a pretty clear indication that this was all just a big, stupid mistake.
Rubbing her eyes, Dita lay back and sighed.
“Bachchan, you’re still out in the Whitetails, right?”
Nancy’s voice came through the radio. Dita picked up her mic with a sigh.
“Dispatch, what have you got for me?” she asked.
“It’s Ryan Elliot, he says he’s got some of those Peggies trampling around in the woods making a lot of noise,” Nancy told her.
“Got it. I’ll check it out,” Dita muttered, setting the mic down. She switched on her engine and headed off towards the dam, letting out a heavy groan.
Of course Nancy would send her, she was small and non-threatening, and so far she hadn’t had any trouble with the Peggies when she’d come across them. Hell, they’d been downright polite to her, even offering to bring her to church, but Dita had declined. Religion wasn’t her thing, and cults were even less so.
It was getting dark by the time she arrived at the Elliot house, and Ryan was waiting for her when she parked on his drive.
“They’re out in the woods.” He jerked his head to his right, and Dita could see, past the trees, orange flame flickering slightly, the loud sound of discordant music floating through the air. “They’ve been playin’ music and singin’ all loud. This ain’t the first time it’s happened but I’m tired of bein’ woken up by these creepy fuckers.”
“I’ll handle it,” Dita promised. “You stay here.”
“You sure?” Ryan asked. “I got some fire support if you need it.”
She shook her head. “I’ll be fine. Nobody’s fired a shot yet; let’s keep it this way.”
He sighed. “All right, but if I hear shoutin’-”
“Then you’ll stay put and call the station,” Dita said firmly. “You can use my onboard radio.” With that, she pulled out her torch and her handset and headed for the woods. “Dispatch, I’m at the location. Heading into the woods.”
“Can you see anything yet?” Nancy asked.
“They’ve got a fire,” Dita told her. “The noise complaint is pretty obvious already. Sounds like they’re singing those songs from the radio. And they’re not doing it particularly well either.”
“Hah, yeah, not everyone is as good at singin’ as the choir is,” Nancy chuckled. “You need any backup?”
“Who’s the closest?” Dita asked. “Hudson or Pratt?”
“Hudson would be best if it gets nasty,” Nancy replied.
“All right. I told Ryan that he can use my onboard radio if he hears gunshots,” Dita told her. “But tell Hudson what I’m doing just in case.”
“You got it, Bachchan. I’ll prep Hudson for a quick intervention. Gimme a minute, but keep me posted, ok?”
“I’m approaching the Peggies,” Dita began. “Just going to say hi and let them know they’re being loud.”
“Good luck.”
Dita sighed, and kept walking. The singing didn’t get any better the closer she got. When she was far enough that she wouldn’t be in immediate danger if some idiot unloaded, she stopped, swishing her flashlight beam through the trees.
“Excuse me, hello?”
The singing stopped.
“I’m Officer Bachchan with the Hope County police department, we had a noise complaint coming from here,” she began. “Is it ok if I come closer?”
Angry muttering came from up ahead, and then a radio blipped.
“We ain’t done nothing,” one of the Peggies called. “We’re out here worshippin’ God in his domain. You just get back in your car and drive off.”
“I will,” she promised, “but please would you be a little quieter? I know you want to worship and I don’t mind, that’s all right. It’s just it’s pretty late and there are people trying to sleep.”
“You can’t arrest us for it,” someone else snapped. “We ain’t hurtin’ nobody.”
“I know,” she assured them. “Is it ok if I come closer?”
More muttering. A long pause. “Fine.”
Dita clicked her flashlight off and came over to the campfire. “Thanks. Mind if I sit?”
Three men exchanged glances, all similar-looking with ragged beards and wild hair. They nodded to one another, but they didn’t take their eyes off her as she sat on a nearby tree stump, her hands on her lap.
“This you guys’ favourite spot to sing?” she asked.
More glances. “It’s by the river,” one of them finally muttered. “Show’s God’s glory. Makes you feel at one with the world.”
“I hate cities,” another piped up. “But out here, in the wilds, makes you feel like a man again, y’know? Fresh air, hikin’ trails, all that shit.”
“I moved out of a city,” Dita agreed. “I know what you mean.”
His eyes met hers briefly, and then he nodded. “Yeah.”
“You know we ain’t done nothin’,” the third man added.
“Well,” Dita paused, “if someone was playing loud music in an apartment block this late at night, you’d want to know someone was able to tell them to stop, right?”
His lip twitched. “Right. I guess so.”
Dita shot him a smile. “I know there’s no apartment blocks around here, but, it’s the same thing. People need to sleep.”
“No way in hell you’re from a city,” the first man scoffed. “I know city folks. Rude as hell and can’t slow down. You’re real nice.”
She laughed. “Thanks. What’s your name?”
“Brett,” he replied.
“Thanks, Brett. You’re not from a city?” she asked.
Brett glanced to the other two men. “Nah.”
“Radio raising Bachchan, code 10?”
“Copy, Bachchan, code 10,” Dita replied. “Sorry, that was dispatch checking up on me.” She brushed her knees off. “I’ve got to go. You guys mind keeping it down for me?”
Another little group Look passed between them, and Brett cleared his throat.
“What if we don’t?”
Fuck. Dita’s smile slipped. “C’mon, guys.”
“Hunter said it,” Brett added, “we ain’t hurt nobody.”
A twig cracked nearby. All four froze.
“I’m gonna turn on my flashlight,” Dita said softly, “so nobody move.”
“No need to panic, Deputy Bachchan,” Jacob Seed’s voice floated out of the darkness, “it’s only me.”
Oh for fuck’s sake. Dita stood, brushing off her ass. “Mr. Seed. I’m assuming you’re with these men? We got a noise complaint from this area.”
He stepped out from the trees into the small clearing, and for a moment he stared at her, before he turned that gaze to the three men. “Noise complaint? Really, Marsh?”
Brett looked like he’d been swatted. “We were praisin’ the Father, Jacob.”
“You got the whole damn Whitetails,” Jacob shot back. “Go on. Get out of here.”
The men looked at each other in confusion, eyes darting between Dita and Jacob, but they quickly packed away, and the orange glow died as they doused the flames. Grabbing chairs and guitars, they hurried past Jacob and into the darkness without another word. There were trained cops that were less efficient and silent than them. Still, it had avoided a nasty confrontation, and she let out a soft sigh.
“You’re welcome,” Jacob said after a moment.
“I wasn’t expecting you to do that,” she admitted. “I was… well, I was expecting you to fight me on that.”
“I thought I told you I wouldn’t make your job any harder than it is,” Jacob reminded her. “Did you think I was lyin’ or something?”
“Hey, you don’t have a great track record for obeying the law,” Dita shot back. “Dispatch, this is Bachchan, code 4. We’re all clear. They’ve moved along.”
“Really? Shit, Bachchan. We’re gonna need to put you on Peggie-huntin’ duty more often if this is what happens.”
Dita froze. “Uh, I had some civilian assistance,” she managed. “I’m heading back to the first disturbance road now. Let me know if anything else crops up.”
“Will do.”
“Are you gonna pretend you didn’t hear some of that?” Dita sighed.
“Peggie huntin’, huh?” Jacob drawled.
“Oh please, don’t pretend you don’t have guys champing at the bit to cause trouble,” Dita shot back, making her way towards the path.
Jacob didn’t move from his spot in the middle of said path. “Sounds like you’re accusin’ us of intentionally defying federal authority.”
She kept her flashlight trained on his chest. “Can I get back to my vehicle, please?”
“Funny place to concentrate,” Jacob commented even as he stepped aside. “What, you didn’t get a good enough glance the other night?”
Her brow furrowed, starting back towards the Elliot house. “Glance at what?”
“The initials,” Jacob said. “You need proof it wasn’t some fucked-up fever dream we both had? Or a shared nightmare?”
“I thought we weren’t gonna talk about it,” she retorted.
“You’re the one with a flashlight trained on my chest,” he snorted.
“It wasn’t intentional,” she promised. “You’re tall, I’m holding the torch up, it’s just where it fell. That’s all.”
“Uh-huh.” He didn’t sound convinced. “Well hey, maybe we’re both wrong. Maybe we both just got a weird hot flush at the same time. I still haven’t seen yours to prove it.”
Dita let out a sharp laugh. “You’re not serious.”
“What, am I on your ass or something?” Jacob asked.
“Mine are in the same place as yours,” she told him as she stopped and turned to face him. “Does that answer your question?”
In the light that reflected onto his face, she saw his brows raise.
“You’re kidding,” he began. “You’re messing with me.”
“Well I can flash you my tits to prove it,” she drawled.
His lips parted, then curled into a smirk. “You’re bluffing.”
Fuck it. “You promise not to have your baby brother complain about my conduct?” Dita asked. “You want the proof that bad?”
“Shit, sweetheart,” he licked his lower lip, “and I thought you didn’t like the fact that it’s me you’re supposed to be with.”
Something about that curled in her gut like a familiar heat, and Dita floundered for a second. “Give me a straight answer or I’m going back to my cruiser.”
“Sure. I’m not gonna say no,” Jacob stepped back to lean against a nearby tree, crossing his arms over his chest, “show me.”
Dita tucked her flashlight into her pocket and unbuttoned her uniform vest as hot shivers of embarrassment rushed over her. She could back out, he wouldn’t stop her, but god, the ribbing was irritating as shit, and when she stepped closer so that his torch was fully focused on her chest, she wanted to see him down on this. Fine, he could hate having some total stranger as his soulmate all he wanted, but he would know.
Yanking the shirt open, she grabbed her tank top and pulled until both it and her bra were tucked underneath her breasts, showing the JS clear in the LED glare.
“Satisfied?” she demanded, burying the embarrassment under her anger. “You get a good enough look?”
His hands fell to his side and he stepped closer. Dita twitched but resisted the urge to move backwards, still holding her shirts.
“No,” his voice was rough, “but this’ll do.”
Her cheeks burned. “Cool.” With that, she pulled her shirt back up. “There’s your proof. I get it, you think this whole thing is stupid and somebody picked wrong. But unfortunately for you, apparently I’m it.”
“I’m twice your age,” Jacob reminded her quietly.
“Well, sorry to keep you waiting,” she retorted. “I know you wouldn’t have picked me if you could’ve had someone else. I get it. I’m a disappointment to a lot of people.”
Jacob blinked. “You feel better now that’s off your chest?” he asked after a moment with another fucking smirk.
Dita rolled her eyes. “Thanks for the help, soulmate. I’ve got to get back to my patrol now, so unless you’ve got any more fuckers singing kumbaya in the woods, have a good night.”
“Jesus, Bachchan,” Jacob muttered as she stormed away, “I didn’t even touch ya.”
No, Dita thought miserably, clenching her fists, but I’m used to that.
“Bachchan, you available?”
Sighing, Dita reached for her radio. “Nancy, please don’t tell me it’s more Peggie troubles.”
“Look, you got it all cleared up last time, I was just thinkin’ you could help out again, that’s all. I can get Hudson.”
“No, no. Tell me what you’ve got,” she muttered.
“415 over at the Oberlin picnic spot. Peggies are doin’ their no alcohol thing with some picnickers. Think you can handle it?”
“I’ve got nothing better to do at seven on a Friday,” Dita drawled, “sure. Heading over now.”
She switched her engine on. It would’ve been a ten minute walk, but Dita didn’t fancy it, and she headed up the road towards the baseball grounds, pulling into the parking lot. Already she could see three Peggie men and two local women arguing loudly nearby, and they all stared at her as she got out of the car. One of the men turned away and pulled out a radio, speaking into it, then glared back at her.
Sighing, Dita climbed out, glancing over the three men.
“Officer Bachchan with the Hope County police department,” she shut the door behind her, “what seems to be the problem?”
“These sinners are drinkin’,” one of the Peggies said, a man with a red beanie. “We got strict rules against alcohol.”
“We ain’t fuckin’ Peggies, dumbass,” one woman snapped, hands on her hips. Her blonde ponytail swished over her shoulder. “You got no right tellin’ me if I can and can’t drink.”
“Your sins are stacked against ya, and the more you indulge the worse you’ll burn,” the second man snapped, tugging at his belt.
“Pardon me,” Dita stepped closer, “but this is a federally-owned location, sir. Legally there’s no reason why she can’t drink here. As long as she’s not causing a disturbance or publicly intoxicated, I’m afraid you’re the one in the wrong here.”
Belt man’s face curled into a snarl. “I don’t answer to your authority. We answer only to the Father, and the Father says that gettin’ drunk is wrong.”
“Sir, with all due respect, the separation of church and state means that these women are under no obligation to follow your religion,” Dita reminded him. “I have to follow the spirit of the law and at the moment, the three of you are behaving threateningly towards these two women. I’m going to ask you to leave. I’m sure they won’t do anything illegal or morally wrong. They’re just having a quiet Friday evening.”
“You think we care what your laws say?” Beanie demanded. “When the Collapse comes for us all, the sinners will be judged for their sins, and you think these women will forgive you for excusing their depravity?”
“Holy shit, seriously?” the other woman growled, straightening her cap. “I’ve had one fuckin’ beer! You’re callin’ that depraved? I ain’t even drivin’!”
“Your soul’s weighed against that vice,” Radio piped up. “It’s a crutch that keeps you blind to the realities that the Father showed us.”
“Are you gonna do anythin’?” Ponytail demanded. “They’re in our face with their preachin’ shit and you’re just thinkin’ you can talk ‘em down?”
The sound of tires on the dirt road grew louder, and Dita glanced over to see a truck pull in with Jacob fucking Seed sat in the front seat. Their eyes met. His shoulders raised, lowered, and then he shoved open the door and jumped out, slamming it shut behind him.
Radio gestured to Jacob. “See, our holy soldier is here to-”
“You three, over here, now,” Jacob snarled.
Beanie, Belt and Radio fell silent, glancing between each other with visible confusion, before obediently they walked over. Jacob glanced at Dita before storming a little further down the path, the Peggies following like cowed ducklings. Dita gestured with her head towards the other tables at the two women, and they went together.
“I’d like to take your statement,” Dita said. “Even if you don’t or can’t press any charges.”
“Sure, my statement’s easy,” Ponytail snapped. “My name’s Janie Crawford and this is Ella May Green. We were just sitting on that table by the bins with our case of beers when those three assholes drove up in that truck. Then they hop out and start tellin’ us that shit about us burnin’ in hell for bein’ drunk and how we were just takin’ opiates against the sinful world around us. Total fucking lunatics. Of course I told ‘em to get fucked.”
Dita scribbled it down on her notepad. “Did they get violent?”
Ella shook her head. “Just loud. Just a little close. But nobody touched us. You can get ‘em on something for that, right?”
“Harassment, possibly,” Dita said. “Not sure how well that’ll hold up against John Seed, though. I’ll file it when I get back.”
Janie snorted. “Right.”
Tucking her notepad away, Dita glanced them both over. “It’s up to you if you stay here. If you’re worried about them, I’d get home.”
Ella rolled her eyes. “Great. So not only can you not do shit, you’re also tellin’ us it’s gonna be safer for us if we both go home? Can’t be out in public?”
“I’m not telling you to go home,” Dita stepped back, glancing over at where Jacob had disappeared behind some shrubs with the men, “I’m saying it might be safer, but I’m not going to make you go anywhere.”
Ella and Janie looked at each other. “You guys are fuckin’ cowards when it comes to the cult. Not even worth callin’ these days.”
Dita gritted her teeth. “Look, I can’t do anything unless I actually have evidence of a crime, and I’m not going guns blazing into this just because they’re being assholes. That’s what a bad cop would do, not a good one.”
“Whatever.” They stormed back to their coolbox of beers and gathered up their things before they got into Janie’s car and drove off.
“Dispatch, code 4,” Dita sighed. “We’re fine here.”
“Holy shit, Bachchan. You’re a magician.”
Dita’s lip curled. She couldn’t exactly say that the reason she was so successful was because of her soulmate being a cultist. As if on cue, Jacob reappeared with the three men, and Dita headed for them.
“Can I help you, officer?” Jacob drawled.
“I need their names,” Dita replied. “I also hope they’re aware that harassment is a crime, even if they don’t believe in the law.”
Jacob glanced at the three men. “Don’t worry, they’ve learned their lesson.”
“I appreciate your vote of confidence in your own people, Mr. Seed, but this is very different to a couple of harmless singers in the woods,” she told him. “They actively tried to intimidate two strangers into obeying religious commands that they have no legal obligation to do so. Which means I need their names.”
“You can’t take my word that it’s been dealt with?” Jacob asked.
“I thought you promised not to make my job any more difficult,” Dita shot back.
His eyes dropped briefly to her chest. “All right,” he sighed.
“But Jacob!” Radio protested.
“That happy little volunteer is Jeb Wilson,” Jacob broke in. “That’s Clay Giles and Peyton Brook. Anything else you need?”
“If you think you can keep a leash on them, then I don’t need to pursue this, but I can’t help you if charges are pressed,” Dita said.
“Charges?!” Clay demanded.
“Get out of here,” Jacob barked. “All of you. Stirred enough shit today.”
Angry glares were shot at Dita as the men climbed into their truck and headed out onto the main highway, leaving her alone with Jacob.
“Well, thanks again,” she began. “If this keeps happening, I might have to ask Whitehorse to hire you.”
“Right, because you wouldn’t have a problem with everyone seeing the NB the second I take my shirt off to change into my uniform,” Jacob snorted.
“Look, you’re the one who jumped straight to leaving the second he found out, so I don’t know why you’re acting like you’re my dirty little secret,” Dita snapped, cocking her hip. “God. You could stop reminding me that you want nothing to do with me every time we meet, you know. I’m starting to take it personally.”
“I’m pretty sure the first thing you said was ‘no, what?’ That’s a pretty clear message right there. Are you now trying to tell me that you actually like the way this played out, Deputy?” Jacob asked.
Dita’s mouth opened, then shut. “Fair point,” she mumbled. “Look, it all sort of happened at once and I didn’t expect- any of this. I’m mostly just trying to figure out a reason for it all.”
“You want some kind of cosmic explanation?” Jacob asked with a snort. “You wanna ask the heavens why your soulmate is twice your age? You were expecting someone younger?”
“Weren’t you expecting someone older?” she pointed out.
“No, actually.” Jacob made his way towards his truck but he didn’t open the driver door. He just leaned against the body. “I’ve always known you were gonna be younger.”
Her brow furrowed. “Wait, what?”
Jacob pulled his shirt up to show off the NB on his chest. “Your birthday is in October, right?”
“Y-yeah, October 24th,” Dita replied, “how’d you know?”
“Because these didn’t show up until 1992,” Jacob replied, yanking his shirt back down. “And I figured that either meant I’d been thrown together with the last person on earth to have a soulmate, or you’d just been born.”
She thought back briefly to his reactions the past week; he’d seemed so resigned to the fact, immediately jumped to letting her walk away, constantly mentioning his age, seeming surprised when her first complaint had been about him avoiding arrest, not about how much older he was. Dita had to imagine that spending two decades of your life thinking you had no soulmate, only to realise that they were so much younger than you, would probably do a number on your expectations.
“The age gap doesn’t bother me,” she promised. “Told you, it’s the cult thing that freaks me out, not the age.”
His arms folded over his chest. “Yeah, that’s not gonna change, girl. So if you’re thinkin’ I’m gonna leave my brother’s church just so I can fuck my soulmate-”
“You don’t have to leave if all you want is sex,” Dita blurted out. “If- you actually want to, I mean. If you don’t find me attractive, I’m used to that.”
Jacob went silent for a moment. “So what, we keep this physical?” he finally asked. “Just use the little cosmic bond we have to blow off steam? You’re not gonna ask me on any dates?”
She laughed. “Yeah, no. I’m not stupid. You don’t wanna leave the cult and I wanna finally get laid, and you owe me for all the guys who went soft and ran off when they saw your initials on my tits.”
His brow rose. “No kidding? They really did that?”
“They really did that,” she drawled. “You’d get to the over the clothes stuff and maybe I’d get to rub up on them a little, and then they’d Clark Kent my shirt and suddenly it was all whoops I have calculus homework to do and then they’d be gone. Girls too. I tried.”
“Well that’s a damn shame,” Jacob’s voice was a low rumble, “but their loss.”
“What would I even call this?” Dita muttered. “Soulmates with benefits? Whatever. Offer still stands. We can just fuck if neither of us actually want a proper relationship.”
Jacob glanced her over. “What did you have in mind?”
“How often do you tend to want it?” Dita asked.
“I mean, I’d do you every night if you wanted,” he offered.
Heat burned her cheeks and she made a popping noise with her lips. “My place or yours? Wait, where is your place?”
“I’ve got a cabin,” Jacob replied. His eyes fixed on her. It felt a little like he was sizing her up. “But your place runs the risk of someone seein’ your dirty little secret.”
“Then come after dark,” Dita suggested. “I’ll tell you when I’m working and when I’ll be off. If it’s still light I can come to yours. If it’s dark you can come to mine.”
“And you’re not worried about me and the Project, huh?” Jacob drawled after a moment. “Even though it’s what’s keepin’ you from trying to really make me your soulmate.”
“Unless you try to bring cult shit into the bedroom, Jacob, leave it at the door,” Dita said.
“All right.” He finally pulled the driver door open, then paused. “Oh, can I have your number? Since you’re gonna be calling me.”
Dita pulled her phone out of her pocket and they swapped, inputting numbers, before exchanging once again. Jacob pressed down on her name and Dita let the phone buzz, shooting him a confused look.
“And here was me worried you’d give me a fake number after all that,” he purred. “What are you doing tonight?”
Dita felt heat curl in her gut. “I finish at 9. You can come over anytime after that. Just… let me know when.”
He nodded. "I'll meet you at your place. You on any birth control?”
Oh. “Uh, no. But I can go to the clinic and get something? I’m- clean. Obviously.”
“All right. I can pick something up from the store,” he told her. “And I’m clean too. Not exactly hard to be celibate around the no fornication rules.”
“Aren’t you breaking those?” she blurted out.
Jacob smirked. “Well if you’re really worried about my immortal soul, Deputy Bachchan, you’re more than welcome to say no at any time.”
Dita really, really didn’t want to do that.