"But?" She waits, watching my expression.
“Sometimes it feels like Pine Hollow is trying to be something it's not instead of just being itself." I tap my fingers against the steering wheel.
Savannah nods, brown eyes tracking the familiar buildings mixed with unfamiliar storefronts. "I get that. Change can be good, but not when it erases what made a place special in the first place."
"Exactly." I glance over at her, surprised by how easily she understands.
We pass the elementary school with its bright new playground equipment. Then the library, its white paint gleaming in the afternoon sun, the parking lot busier than I remember. Murphy's Diner sits on the corner, familiar red brick and chrome, though someone clearly splurged on that flashy new neon sign.
"It's still pretty," Savannah says finally, her gaze following the tree-lined streets. "Different, but pretty. More people, but still small enough that everyone knows everyone."
"Pretty much. Although we've got enough new residents that I don't automatically know everyone's medical history anymore." I turn onto Maple Street.
"Is that good or bad?" She traces a pattern on the window with her finger.
"Depends on the day. Professional boundaries are easier when you're not treating people you went to high school with." I chuckle softly.
"But the gossip network is less efficient." Savannah grins at me.
"I actually have to ask people about their lives instead of having the information delivered through the church ladies' intelligence network." I pull into my driveway and put the car in park.
She laughs again, the sound filling the car like music. "I missed that. The way information travels here. In Denver, you can live next to someone for years and never know their name. Here, you sneeze wrong and half the town knows about it by dinnertime."
"Do you miss it? The gossip network?"
"Sometimes. It was annoying when I lived here, but there's something comforting about being part of a community that pays attention to you," she confesses. I sense regret in her voice. Maybe leaving wasn't everything she expected it to be. I get that, because sometimes I feel the same way about staying, as if maybe I'm missing something.
Griff built this place with his own hands, designed it to accommodate three alphas who needed space and connection in equal measure. It's beautiful work, all clean lines and natural materials that blend into the surrounding landscape.
"Holy shit," Savannah says with her eyes widening as she takes in the sprawling structure before us.
"Language," I say automatically, then catch myself with a grimace. "Sorry. Occupational hazard."
"No, seriously. Holy shit is appropriate here. This is a mansion." She leans forward in her seat, pressing her palms against the windshield.
"It's not." I say, feeling defensive despite myself.
"Xavier, this is fucking big. Huge. How many square feet?" She turns to face me, eyebrows raised in disbelief.
"Four thousand, maybe? Griffin would know exactly." I run a hand through my hair, suddenly self-conscious about our living situation.
"For just the three of you?" Her voice carries a note of amazement mixed with something that might be judgment.
"It's a pack house. We needed space for…activities.” I clear my throat, avoiding her penetrating gaze.
"What kind of pack activities require that much room?" She tilts her head, genuine curiosity replacing the incredulity.
Good question. So far, our pack activities consist of arguing about household responsibilities and avoiding meaningful conversations about our feelings. Apparently, we need a lot of space for that.
"Griffin likes to work on projects in the basement. Logan needs room for his gym equipment. I have a home office for patient files and consultations." I tick off the reasons on my fingers.
"And the rest of it?" She gestures toward the house with a sweep of her hand.
"The rest is just... space. Room to breathe without stepping on each other." I shrug, feeling the inadequacy of the explanation.
She studies the house with the same attention she used to give wedding venues, her head moving slowly as she catalogs details and possibilities. "It's beautiful. Really beautiful. Griff designed this?"
"Designed and built. Took him two years, but he did most of the work himself." Pride creeps into my voice despite my earlier defensiveness.
