Jaime set his glass down, watching me with an unreadable expression.
“What?” I asked.
“You surprised me today,” he said.
“How?” I asked.
“You did well with Pampi. Better than well.”
Heat flooded my face. “She made it easy.”
“She doesn’t make anything easy,” he corrected softly.
The air between us tightened. Not tense. Tuned.
“Look,” I said, voice low. “I know this is… strange. Us pretending to be married. Working together. Being in each other’s space all the time.”
Jaime nodded once.
“I’m trying,” I said. “To make this work.”
His fingers tapped once along the side of his glass. Not restless, more like he was sending a quiet ripple through still water. He was thinking, choosing his words with that same careful precision he used when handling Pampi.
“I know,” he said finally. “And I am too.”
Something inside me cracked open. It wasn’t dramatic, not some cinematic flood, but only a tiny seam splitting, enough to let a thread of warmth slip inside.
It startled me how much I felt it. How much I needed it.
“Good,” I murmured.
Jaime didn’t smile, but his eyes softened, a shift so subtle most people would have missed it. But not me and not when it came to him.
The hum of the bar wrapped around us like a loose blanket. Soft music, muted conversations, plates clinking. The kind of background noise that made moments feel strangely private.
I took a long drink, letting the beer settle warm in my chest.
“Feels weird, you know,” I said after a moment. “Us sitting here. Not snapping at each other, not glaring. Almost like we’re…” Friends? Allies? Something else entirely? “...getting somewhere.”
Jaime arched a brow. “Are you upset about that?”
“No,” I laughed, shoulders loosening. “Just surprised. In a good way.”
He nodded, lifting his glass for another quiet sip. His scent pulled at me again. It made my wolf lean forward, curious, wanting to press closer. I forced myself to stay anchored to my seat. For now.
We drifted into companionable silence, the kind that didn’t feel forced. Just easy and I didn’t get that often. I wasn’t used to it. Eventually, I exhaled.
“You know, you’re not wrong about me being new to all this. Pack stuff. Working with others. Not screwing it up,” I said.
Jaime didn’t glance over, but I felt his attention sharpen. “You mentioned that you didn’t have a pack growing up,” he said.
“Yeah.” I rubbed my thumb along the condensation on my glass. “Was mostly just my parents and brothers. There used to be a pack there, my parents’ pack, but even after the pack disbanded, they stayed.”
I shrugged and continued, “My brothers and me grew up basically feral. Not in the cool, wild-wolf way. More like learning everything the hard way.”
Jaime turned slightly, elbow resting on the bar. His posture was relaxed, but there was an undercurrent to it. He was focused, listening, engaged. “And then your family moved here?”
“At Devon’s suggestion,” I said quietly. “But the move wasn’t easy on me and my brothers. Packs always seemed like these tight-knit machines, and my brothers and I were… not just used to that I guess.”
