“To anyone who knows you,” Chris said. “Look, just be yourself. That’s the guy he kissed tonight, right?”
That pulled a smile out of me despite the knot in my chest. I nodded, rubbing the back of my neck. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess it is.”
“Then you’re fine,” he said simply, bumping his shoulder against mine. “If he’s worth your time and from the way you’re acting right now, he probably is, he’ll see that.”
I snorted. “You sound like Devon.”
“Devon would’ve said it with more therapy talk,” Chris said dryly. “I’m going for the practical approach.”
I laughed, the tension easing out of my chest.
“Now,” Chris said, picking up his phone again, “go to bed before Mom wakes up, catches us talking, and somehow turns it into a bonding moment about feelings.”
“God forbid,” I said, grinning.
He grinned back. “Exactly.”
I gave his shoulder another shove before heading toward the stairs.
The old wood creaked softly under my feet as I climbed. Halfway up, I glanced back and saw Chris was still there, leaning against the counter, shaking his head with a fond smile.
Upstairs, the house was still. I paused by my door, Zack’s laugh still echoing in my mind, the memory of his kiss warm on my lips.
My wolf stirred restlessly beneath my skin, not in hunger or need this time, but in quiet, curious longing. It wasn’t just attraction, it was something deeper.
6
ZACK
Istood off to the side of the stage, guitar strap digging into my shoulder, pretending I was calm while absolutely not being calm.
The stage itself wasn’t even the real one yet. It was just a raised wooden platform bolted together in the middle of the park, but it still made my stomach flip.
Cables snaked across the ground. Black speakers flanked the front, humming softly between sets.
A small folding table sat a few feet away, angled just right so the judges could see everything.
Cooper was there, relaxed but attentive, with Cathy beside him and two others I didn’t recognize immediately, until I noticed the matching tumblers on the table, each stamped with the town seal.
Town council, then. Of course.
Even half-built, the whole setup already felt official.
Beyond the stage, the park was slowly transforming. Sections of grass were cordoned off with temporary fencing, banners rolled halfway down poles that would eventually hold strings of lights.
I could picture it easily: the Winter Festival in full swing, booths lining the paths, music carrying through the cold air, the crowd thick enough that you couldn’t see the end of it.
For now, it was just scaffolding and noise and a stage that looked important enough to make people stop and stare.
People were drifting over, curiosity tugging them closer.
Some stopped outright, hands in pockets, watching the current act with interest. Others hovered at the edges, unsure if they were meant to be here.
Not everyone looked pleased. A group of older men lingered near the chess tables, scowling like we’d personally ruined their morning.
A couple of joggers detoured around the construction area, irritation written all over their faces.
Parents at the playground cast annoyed glances our way, probably wishing for a quiet hour while their kids burned off energy.
