I shot him a look. “You been talking to Griffin?”
Devon smirked. “Nope. You keep subtly asking about a certain wolf since you moved here though.”
I groaned. “You’re insufferable.”
“Honest,” he corrected. “So. You saw Zack?”
“Yeah.”
Devon nodded slowly, reading me like a book. “And?”
“And nothing. We talked, that’s all.” I tried to sound nonchalant but Devon obviously knew me better than I thought.
His smirk softened into something gentler. “You’ve been single a long time, Mark. It’s okay to want something again.”
I leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “It’s not that simple.”
“It never is,” he said quietly. “But you’re not the same guy you were before. If Zack means something…”
I didn’t answer right away. I just stared down at the tiled floor, the moonlight slanting through the blinds in thin silver bars.
Finally, I said, “Two years, Dev. It’s been two damn years, and I still remember the way he looked at me. What does that say?”
“That you’re not done,” Devon said simply. “Maybe you never were.”
I huffed out a laugh, but it came out shaky. “You think I’m crazy, don’t you?”
“No,” he said, hopping off the counter. “I think you’re hopeful. That’s rarer than crazy.”
Hopeful. Yeah, maybe.
“You should audition for the town New Year event,” Devon suggested.
I raised an eyebrow. “You serious?”
“Why not? Won’t Zack and his band be playing?” Devon’s tone was too casual to be innocent. “You’d get to see him again. Plus, you’re new to the pack . It’d be good for you to participate more in community stuff, blend in.”
I snorted. “You make it sound like I’m some antisocial hermit.”
“Well, you haven’t been performing, have you? You used to play all the time before Dad got really sick,” Devon said.
He had a point. I used to be passionate about music. About the feeling of losing myself in a melody, of creating something that actually meant something.
But after Dad fell ill, everything else took a backseat. Music felt frivolous compared to keeping the family together.
I sighed, dragging a hand over my face. “Yeah. I guess I did.”
For a moment, neither of us spoke. The silence between us wasn’t heavy, just thoughtful.
Devon’s voice softened. “Maybe it’s time you picked it up again. Not just for the pack event. For you.”
I hesitated, staring at the floor. The idea of playing again made something stir in my chest, something I hadn’t felt in years. A faint pulse of excitement, of possibility.
“I’ll think about it,” I finally said.
Devon smiled, satisfied. “Great.”
I pushed off the wall and stretched, trying to shake off the weight in my chest.
