Nate shook her hand, looking slightly dazed by the force of her personality. “All good things, I hope?”
“Mostly,” Sienna said with a wink that made me roll my eyes. “Though Evan's not exactly chatty about the details.”
“Shocking revelation,” Nate said. “He keeps his cards pretty close to his chest.”
“I always have,” I said, surprising myself by joining the conversation.
Sienna laughed, the sound bright and uncomplicated.
“You nearly got yourself killed that one time,” I reminded her, memories of that terrible night when everything changed flickering through my mind like old film. “Following us to places you shouldn't have been.”
Her expression softened, understanding passing between us in the way of people who'd shared trauma and come out stronger on the other side. “But you protected me. You always protect the people you care about.”
I felt heat creep up my neck under his curious gaze.
“Evan's good people,” Sienna continued, nudging my shoulder with hers. “Quiet, but good. He's got this whole mysterious brooding thing down to an art form, but underneath all that he's basically a giant marshmallow.”
“Marshmallow?” Nate's eyebrows shot up, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Really?”
“Soft and sweet once you get past the outer layer,” Sienna confirmed with absolutely no shame. “Though he'll probably murder me for saying so.”
“I'm sitting right here,” I protested, but there was no heat in it. This was comfortable, easy in ways that most social interactions weren't. Sienna had always been good at creating space for people to just exist without pressure or expectation.
“We know,” she said cheerfully. “That's what makes it fun.”
Nate was grinning now, looking between us.
“So what's the verdict?” Sienna asked him. “Living up to expectations so far?”
“Exceeding them, actually,” Nate said, and the honesty in his voice made something warm unfurl in my chest. “Though I'm starting to think there are layers to this place I'm only just beginning to understand.”
Sienna's smile took on a knowing edge. “Hollow Pines has a way of surprising people. But stick around long enough, and you might find you like the surprises.”
The fire crackled between us, painting our faces in shifting light and shadow while conversations swirled around us like music. For the first time in longer than I could remember, I felt like I belonged somewhere—not as the Alpha's son or the future leader, but just as Evan. Part of something bigger than duty and expectation.
Part of a family that chose to keep me, broken pieces and all.
As the night wore on,the crowd thinned and the music got quieter. Nate and I ended up sitting on a fallen log at the edge of the clearing, firelight painting everything in shades of gold and amber. He'd abandoned his camera for the moment, was just sitting beside me watching sparks rise toward the stars.
“You ever think about what's next?” he asked, voice casual but thoughtful. “After all this, I mean. After high school.”
It saddened me that I couldn’t tell him that my future was already planned, mapped out in careful detail by generations of Callahan tradition.
“I don't know,” I lied, pulling out my notebook because the words were too big and too dangerous to say aloud.
Nate read my response, frowned slightly, then bumped my shoulder with his.
“You'll figure it out,” he said. “You're stronger than you think.”
“What about you?” I asked, because deflection was safer than honesty.
“Photography school, maybe. Travel.” His eyes went distant, dreamy. “I want to chase light across the world, you know? Capture moments that matter. Document stories that need telling.”
“Sounds amazing,” I managed, and meant it despite the way it felt like volunteering for my own execution.
Nate deserved the world. Deserved adventure and freedom and all the bright possibilities that existed beyond the borders of Hollow Pines. And I would never be selfish enough to ask him to give that up for someone who couldn't even say his name without his throat closing up with want.
The fire burned lower as the night stretched on, most of our classmates drifting away in pairs or small groups. Eventually it was just us and a few die-hards who were too drunk to drive home, and Nate finally stretched out on the ground beside our log with a contented sigh.
