“Finish those up,” I said, smiling at them. “Your parents will be here any minute.”
Once everyone was ready, I ushered them toward the front of the shop.
A few parents were already waiting outside, chatting quietly. I unlocked the cupboard near the entrance and started pulling out jackets, calling names as I handed them over.
One by one, I let parents inside, the shop filling with familiar voices and polite hellos.
“Mrs. Lim,” I said as Daisy bounded over to her mom, jacket half-on and guitar case bumping against her leg. “She nailed her transitions today. Her fingers are finally settling into place.”
Daisy puffed up proudly. “Zack sang the note!”
Mrs. Lim laughed. “Did he?”
“Regrettably,” I said. “But it worked.”
She smiled, thanking me as she helped Daisy into her coat. As they headed for the door, I caught movement out of the corner of my eye, parents glancing sideways, murmurs threading through the room.
I frowned and followed their gaze.
Mark stood just outside the shop, hovering near the window like he wasn’t sure he was allowed any closer.
When he noticed me looking, he carefully set the guitar case he was carrying against the wall before giving me a small, awkward wave.
A couple of parents shifted immediately. One man tugged his son closer, whispering to his wife. Another pair exchanged low, questioning glances.
“How long has he been coming around here?”
“Does he interact with the kids?”
“Why would the shop even allow someone like him?—”
My jaw clenched.Someone like him.
The words didn’t make sense. I was a shifter too. So was Mrs. Crest, the music shop owner’s wife, the one who also helps run the store.
The whole town knew that. What exactly did they think they were being protected from?
I took a step forward, heat rising in my chest, ready to say something sharp?—
“Bye, Zack!” one of the kids called, waving both his hands.
“Thank you for the snacks!” another chimed in.
That stopped me short. I smiled back automatically, waving in return, and by the time I looked up again, Mark had stepped inside.
He didn’t hesitate. Shoulders squared, expression open, he positioned himself where everyone could see him.
“I want to apologize,” he said, voice steady but careful. “To all of you.” The room quieted.
“What happened at the rehearsal the other day was my fault,” he continued. “It was reckless, and it shouldn’t have happened. It doesn’t represent this pack, or what we stand for.”
A man near the door, George, tightened his grip on his son’s shoulder. “There’s a reason the rule exists,” he said flatly.
Mark nodded. “I know.”
The rule had been drilled into all of us who grew up in Pecan Pines. No pack business in town. No confrontations, no violence, especially anything that could spill over to humans or escalate beyond control.
Mrs. Lim stepped in, frowning. “George, what exactly happened?”
