"You'd have to ask Knox. He's the alpha. He decides who's pack and who's not."
"I'm asking you."
Jason looks at me then, really looks, and there's something vulnerable in his expression. Something he's trying to hide and can't quite manage. "I don't know what you want me to say."
"I want you to say what you're thinking."
"I'm thinking—" He stops, shakes his head, turns back to the dishes like he can escape the conversation by scrubbing harder. "I'm thinking you're dangerous and I should stay away from you, but I'm going to show up at your garage tomorrow anyway because apparently I have no survival instinct."
"That makes two of us."
He laughs, surprised and a little helpless. "You have plenty of survival instinct. You're a Green Beret. Survival is literally your job."
"Was my job. Now I'm retired."
"And buying houses. And inviting strangers to see your garage."
"You're not a stranger."
"I'm not?" He raises an eyebrow, skeptical. "We've known each other for four days."
"Three."
"Even worse."
"Time's relative." I push off from the counter, close enough now that I could touch him if I wanted to. Close enough to see the pulse jumping in his throat. "Sometimes you meet someone and it feels like you've known them longer."
"Is that how this feels to you?"
"I don't know yet." It's honest, more honest than I usually am. I don't do vulnerable. Don't do uncertainty. But something about Jason makes me want to try. "That's what I'm trying to figure out."
He holds my gaze for a long moment, soap suds dripping from his hands, hope and fear fighting for space in his eyes.
Then he turns back to the dishes.
"Tomorrow," he says. "After five."
"I'll be there."
I leave him to finish washing up, collect my jacket from the chair where I left it, make my goodbyes. Robin hugs me tight and whispers "be careful with him" in my ear. Toby squeezes my hand and doesn't say anything, but his eyes say plenty.
Even Knox nods at me—grudging respect, maybe, or a warning. Hard to tell with him.
Outside, the afternoon sun is bright and warm. Indian summer, the last gasp of heat before fall sets in for real. I sit on my bike for a minute before starting it, looking at the bar, thinking about the man inside who made me lunch because I said I liked spicy food.
Four batches of vindaloo. Robin told me, texted me last night with a string of exasperated emojis.He made FOUR batches to get it right for you. Four. He's already in deep.
I should cancel tomorrow. Should text Jason some excuse, keep my distance, let this fade before it becomes something neither of us can walk away from. That would be the smart thing. The safe thing. The thing that protects us both.
But I won't.
Because for the first time in years, I want something more than I want to be safe from it. And maybe that's stupid, maybe that's reckless, maybe I'm going to destroy us both.
But I'm tired of being careful. Tired of keeping everyone at arm's length. Tired of waking up alone in an empty house that doesn't feel like home.
Jason looks at me like I could be something good.
I want to find out if he's right.
