1
MARK
2 YEARS AGO
Weddings were supposed to be happy occasions, but I’d sung at enough of them to know that wasn’t always the case.
Sometimes, they were full of awkward smiles and strained laughter, ghosts of bad decisions hiding behind champagne flutes. But this one actually felt good.
The crowd was warm, the grooms were glowing, and for a few hours, I got to forget the heaviness that had been sitting in my chest for weeks.
The soft lighting caught on the fairy-light garlands strung across the hall. As I strummed the last notes ofCan’t Help Falling in Love, the guests swayed together, humming along.
My voice carried over them, steady and practiced.
When the final chord faded, I exhaled slowly. Applause broke out. It was genuine, loud, full of joy. I smiled, dipped my head in thanks, and the tension in my shoulders loosened a little.
“Mark, that was amazing!” one of the grooms, Jonah, exclaimed. He approached with a wide grin, his husband’s hand linked with his. “Seriously, you made the ceremony. We owe you.”
“Thanks,” I said, still catching my breath. “You don’t owe me a thing. Just doing my job.”
“Then do your job a little longer,” Jonah laughed, nudging my shoulder. “Stay for a drink, some food. You’ve earned it.”
I almost said no. Usually, I packed up right after a gig and hit the road. It was easier that way. No lingering, no pretending I belonged at a celebration I wasn’t part of.
But tonight, something in me didn’t want to go back to the house, which was feeling cramped lately with all my brothers home, with the exception of Devon.
“Alright,” I said, returning his grin. “You twisted my arm.”
Jonah clapped me on the back before someone else dragged him off toward the dance floor. I packed my guitar into its case and left it near the stage, then made my way toward the bar.
The scent hit me before I even saw him. Warm and rich. A mix of pine and citrus with something wild underneath.
My wolf stirred instantly, tail-high and alert, pressing close to the surface like it wanted to breathe him in properly. I froze, caught off guard.
I hadn’t reacted to anyone like that in years, maybe. Not since before Dad got sick, before everything changed.
My gaze fell to the guy at the bar. He had gorgeous curls that brushed his collar, his frame slender but lean in a tux that fit him perfectly.
The deep navy fabric set off his eyes, and the patterned bowtie with adorable tiny silver stars scattered across it made him look unfairly cute.
He leaned against the counter, gesturing animatedly as he spoke to the bartender.
“I’m just saying,” he was ranting, “when your boyfriend, well ex-boyfriend starts scheduling your life like a calendar app, that’s not love, right? That’s control.”
The bartender murmured something sympathetic.
The guy sighed and ran a hand through his hair. His frustration was sharp, sparking through his scent, but underneath it there was hurt, fresh and real.
Before I could second-guess myself, I stepped up beside him.
“Depends,” I said lightly. “Was he at least a good calendar app? Remind you to hydrate and take your vitamins?”
He blinked, startled. Then he laughed. It was a low, rough sound that sent heat curling through me.
“You always start conversations like that?” he asked.
“Only when someone’s complaining about their ex,” I said, flashing a grin as I motioned to the bartender. “Whiskey soda, please.”
