Jocelyn was sure that boy was sneaking into her daughter’s room at night. Call it an instinct, mother’s intuition, or whatever else, but she knew it like she knew her fiancée’s laugh or her daughter’s annoyed sigh. That boy was in her room, and it was her job as a parent to make sure it stopped.
But it was hard to stop when the boy in question happened to be Jace Herondale. Back when it had been Simon sneaking into the apartment, he had to use the front door and it usually ended in something broken and harried apologies. Jace, though, he could slip through her daughter’s window silent as a ghost.
She didn’t like it.
And yet every time she would barge into her daughter’s room, expecting to become witness to a scene of debauchery or at least two people cuddling in a bed, she only ever found Clary, sleeping soundly or working on art. Jocelyn was halfway to tearing her hair out.
After two weeks of this, she started to wonder if she was losing it. She’d not caught hide nor hair of her daughter’s boyfriend in her room, and it seemed more likely by the day that the stress of wedding planning was starting to get to her.
By the end of the month, Jocelyn was making her nightly checks less frequently. By two months, she’d learned to ignore the nagging feeling in the back of her head warning her about someone in her daughter’s room.
At three and a half months, though, and with the wedding less than 24 hours away and no Luke in the apartment to distract her, the feeling got too strong to ignore. So she made her way to her daughter’s room and pushed the door open.
Clary sat up against her headboard, her shoulders shaking a bit as she tried to catch her breath from something. Jocelyn’s suspicion immediately spiked and she walked into the room, flipping on the overhead lights.
“You alright, sweetheart?” She asked her daughter, her eyes scanning the room for anything amiss.
“F-fine, Mom,” Clary replied, shifting the covers around her. Jocelyn’s sharp eyes noticed immediately that her hair seemed wilder than usual, her shirt more rumpled than sleep would call for.
“You sure? You seem a bit shaken.”
Clary was in the middle of fabricating an excuse when Jocelyn’s eyes found the pair of black boots sitting tucked away in a corner, white socks sticking half out. Validation. She wasn’t going insane.
“Save it and tell your boyfriend to come out of his hiding spot.”
Clary let out a giggle, but now that she knew, Jocelyn could see the worry in her eyes, hear the nerves in her laugh.
“Mom, Jace is back home at the Institute.”
Jocelyn bent over and picked up the boots on the floor, holding one up before Clary’s widening eyes with a single brow raised.
From Clary’s closet, she heard a muffled curse. The door rattled for a moment and then out came Jace, his shirt wrinkled and on inside out and a hickey already forming on his neck. He made his eyes as wide and innocent as he could. “Mrs. Fray, we were just-“
“Save it,” Jocelyn cut him off. “You can stay.”
Clary’s eyes lit up at that. “Really?”
Jocelyn sighed. “On the condition that your door stays open, yes. Not like I can keep him out anyway.”
Jocelyn didn’t know anyone’s grin could actually look as smug as Jace’s did.