“Not yet. I’ve been watching for over an hour with no movement.” Dylan crouches behind a thick pine trunk. “Could be out foraging, could be scouting the area. Hard to say.”
I inspect the campsite more closely, noting the tent's position relative to the surrounding terrain. Whoever chose this spot knew what they were doing. The boulders provide cover from one direction, and the trees screen the site. More importantly, there’s a clear sightline to one of the trails our pack uses frequently for patrols and runs.
“This isn’t random,” I conclude. “Someone picked this location intentionally.”
“That’s what I thought.” Dylan settles into a more comfortable position against the tree. “Nic wants us to monitor and report. Figure out who this is and what they want before we make any moves.”
We establish a surveillance pattern, taking turns watching the campsite while the other monitors the surrounding forest. The afternoon stretches on as the sun traces its slow arc across the sky while we wait for the mysterious camper to return. Birds call in the canopy overhead. Squirrels chase each other up and down tree trunks. Nothing else moves.
“So,” Dylan says during one of his shifts, keeping his voice low, “you and the human therapist. How’s that working out?”
“It’s fine.”
He snorts. “You’ve been lurking outside her workplace for three days straight. That doesn’t exactly scream ‘fine’ to me.”
“Nic assigned me to watch her.”
“Nic assigned you to protect her. There’s a difference.” Dylan picks up a twig and twirls it between his fingers.“Protecting someone doesn’t usually involve hiding behind parked cars and spying on them through windows.”
“I’m not spying.”
“Ruby says you are. She also says Fern is starting to find it creepy.”
I wince. That’s not the impression I was going for.
“Look,” Dylan continues, tossing the twig aside, “I get that the situation is weird. Human woman stumbles into the lottery, gets matched with you, now you’re both supposed to act like everything is normal. It’s a lot.”
I rub the back of my neck. “She barely knows me. She barely understands what we are. And in three weeks, she’s supposed to stand before the whole pack and bind herself to me forever?”
“So help her understand. Spend time with her. Answer her questions.” Dylan fixes me with a pointed look. “Stop skulking around like some kind of stalker and actually talk to your mate.”
“I talk to her.”
“When? When you nod at her from across the street? When you grunt hello if she happens to pass you in town?” He shakes his head. “That’s not talking, Connor. That’s avoiding.”
I want to argue, to defend myself, but the words die in my throat. He’s not wrong. Every time I’ve had the chance to approach Fern over the past three days, I’ve found an excuse not to. Told myself I was giving her space. Told myself she needed time to adjust.
The truth is, I don’t know how to bridge the gap between us. I don’t know how to be a mate to someone who looks at me like I’m a monster.
“Just go talk to her,” Dylan suggests. “Stop playing hard to get and spend some actual time with the woman. The bonding ceremony is coming up fast. You two need to figure out how to be in the same room without it being awkward as hell.”
“And if she doesn’t want to talk to me?”
“Then at least you’ll know where you stand.” He turns his attention back to the campsite. “Go on. I’ve got this covered. I’ll report to Nic and let him know we’re keeping eyes on the situation.”
I climb to my feet and brush pine needles from my jeans. “You’ll call if anything changes?”
“The second our mystery camper shows up, you’ll be the first to know.” Dylan waves me off without looking. “Now get out of here before I change my mind.”
The drive back to town feels longer than it should, with Dylan’s words rattling around in my head the whole way. By the time I pull into the medical center parking lot, the sun is dipping toward the horizon, and most of the staff vehicles are gone. Only a handful remain, including Fern’s now fixed Honda.
I find her in her consultation room, alone, bent over a mess of paperwork with a pen tucked behind her ear and another one tapping against the desk. She’s so absorbed in whatever she’s reading that she doesn’t notice me in the doorway, and when I rap my knuckles against the frame, she rockets out of her chair with a strangled yelp.
“God!” She clutches the edge of the desk until her knuckles go white. “What is wrong with you? You can’t just sneak up on people like that!”
“I knocked.”
“You appeared out of nowhere!” She presses a hand to her sternum, gasping for breath. “I almost had a heart attack.”
