“Daniel?” I said, testing his name on my tongue.
“Hmm?” He glanced over his shoulder, eyebrows raised in question.
“Thank you. For this. For not telling me to go fuck myself after the way I acted today.”
His mouth quirked upward in what might have been amusement. “Language,” he said mildly, but there was no real censure in it. “And you're welcome. Everyone deserves a safe place to land when their world gets turned upside down.”
He slid a plate of scrambled eggs and toast across the counter toward me, along with a glass of orange juice that tasted like sunshine and normalcy.
“Eat,” he commanded, and there was enough parental authority in his voice to make me obey without question.
The food settled warmly in my stomach, chasing away the hollow feeling that had been growing all day. With each bite, I felt more human, more capable of facing whatever came next.
“Better?” Daniel asked when I'd cleaned my plate.
“Much,” I admitted. “I didn't realize how hungry I was.”
“Shock does that. Makes you forget about basic needs like food and sleep.” He collected my empty plate, rinsing it in the sink with practiced efficiency. “Come on, let's get you settled upstairs.”
Evan's old room was on the second floor, at the end of a hallway lined with family photographs. Daniel pushed open the door to reveal a space that felt frozen in time—twin bed with a faded quilt, desk cluttered with books and art supplies, walls covered with sketches that made my heart clench with recognition.
“He drew these,” I said, moving closer to examine the charcoal studies that decorated nearly every available surface. Wolves running through forests, ravens perched on pine branches, landscapes that captured the wild beauty of the Evernight Forest with stunning detail.
“Since he was little,” Daniel said, fondness warming his voice. “Always had an artist's eye, even before he could properly hold a pencil.”
I studied the drawings, seeing Evan in every careful line and shadow. This was the part of himself he kept hidden, the creative soul that lived beneath the responsible heir and dutiful son.
“These are incredible,” I whispered, recognizing a kindred spirit in the way he captured light and movement, the way he made static images feel alive.
“You should tell him that,” Daniel said quietly. “He's never shown these to anyone outside the family. Too afraid of what people might think.”
The revelation made my chest ache with protective tenderness. Of course Evan kept his art hidden. Of course he worried about judgment, about not living up to expectations, about being seen as something other than the perfect Alpha heir.
“I will,” I promised, and meant it.
Daniel moved to the dresser, pulling out what looked like pajamas and a clean t-shirt. “These should fit,” he said, setting them on the bed. “Bathroom's across the hall. Take your time getting settled.”
He headed toward the door, then paused with his hand on the frame.
“Nate?”
“Yeah?”
“Whatever happens next, whatever you decide about staying or going, know that you have a place here if you want it. With the pack. With us.”
“Thank you,” I whispered, throat tight with emotion I couldn't name.
Daniel nodded once and disappeared down the hallway, leaving me alone with Evan's art and the growing certainty that I'd found something I hadn't even known I was looking for.
I changed into the borrowed clothes, grateful for their softness and the way they smelled faintly of pine and home. The bed was more comfortable than it looked, and for the first time in hours, my body began to relax.
Outside the window, the Evernight Forest rustled with secrets and possibilities. Somewhere out there, Evan was running patrol with his pack, keeping the town safe from threats I was only beginning to understand.
And here I was, sleeping in his childhood bedroom, surrounded by his hidden art, trying to figure out how to apologize for being an idiot.
But for the first time since this whole mess started, I felt hopeful. Like maybe I could fix what I'd broken. Like maybe I really did belong here, in this strange little town with its supernatural secrets and fierce loyalties.
Like maybe I'd finally found home.
