“Tell anyone, and I’ll deny everything,” Jesse added.
He didn’t linger, just nodded once and wandered back toward the house, shoulders hunched a little tighter than usual.
Colby watched him go, warmth in his chest that had nothing to do with the sun. But when he turned back toward the outbuilding, something in the shadows of the woods caught his attention.Not movement, not exactly. Just the sense that something had changed out there.
However long he looked, he couldn’t see anything. Still, the feeling lingered. A thread of unease, for no reason.
* * *
Late afternoon, and he was sitting on the front porch, waiting for Tristan. He was brushing dust off his jeans and still finding bits of cobweb in his hair when he heard a car coming up the driveway.
He stood instinctively, his heart giving a quick lurch before he caught himself. It wasn’t fear, exactly—just the old panic response trying to reroute itself into something new. Intohope.
Tristan stepped out of the car, his backpack in one hand, his face lighting up when he saw Colby.
“You survived,” Colby called, aiming for light-hearted but hearing the softness in his own voice.
“Only just,” Tristan said. “Sam practically hugged me to death when I stuck my head into the diner.”
Colby grinned and met him halfway, returning the kiss Tristan pressed to his lips like it was the most natural thing in the world. Which maybe, now, it was.
“How were things here?” Tristan asked as they walked toward the house.
“Productive. Jesse didn’t eat my lunch. Oh, but Chaos tried to eat the extension cord.”
Tristan snorted. “Of course she did.”
Colby didn’t say what he was thinking—that he was proud of Tristan. And that his return felt like something locking into place inside Colby’s chest. He didn’t have to, because Tristan laced their fingers together like he already knew.
* **
That night, Colby waited again on the back porch for Karl. The night air was cool against his skin, but he didn’t mind. He liked the stillness, the way the porch light pooled on the ground and caught the occasional drifting moth. He liked the anticipation, too—the steady kind, not the kind laced with dread.
But still, he found himself checking the line of the trees more than once, scanning shadows without a reason for it.
Karl arrived right on time, as always. He didn’t say anything about the work Colby had done that day, or the fact that Karl had let him take the lead on one circuit the previous night, when Colby had picked up a fox’s trail at the exact same moment he had.
When they returned from patrol and Karl shifted back, he stretched, shook out his limbs, and gave Colby a long, unreadable look. Then he said, simply, “You’re starting to fit in.”
Colby blinked. His throat tightened in a way he didn’t expect. He didn’t know what to say at first, because this wasn’t a throwaway comment. Not from Karl. He didn’t waste words.
“Yeah?” he asked, his voice low.
“Yeah,” Karl said. And in that one syllable was acknowledgment, and maybe even approval.
Colby let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Karl nodded once, like he understood, and disappeared into the dark.
* * *
The rest of the week settled into a kind of rhythm. Not effortless, but good. Tristan came home at the end of each day, tired and smiling. Colby stopped avoiding pack mealtimes. And Karl kept showing up each evening, silent and steady as ever.
Two mornings later, Colby poured coffee, slathered some toast with butter, and sat on the back porch to eat it.
Chaos appeared within minutes, bleating indignantly like she was offended Colby wasn’t sharing. Mayhem trotted after her, more interested in Colby’s bootlaces than breakfast.
“Don’t even think about it,” he warned them both, but his voice was fond. When Chaos shoved her head under his arm like a dog demanding a hug, he let her.
Maybe Christian was right about the goats. Maybe they were jerks. But they wereTristan’sjerks, and Colby loved them.
