Jaime watched her for a moment longer than necessary, then straightened, rolling his shoulders.
“I don’t feel like staying in,” he said after a beat.
Relief loosened something in my chest. “Yeah. Same.”
We changed quickly and left the hotel, stepping into the cooler evening air. The sky was bruised purple and blue, the sun already gone, streetlights flickering on one by one.
The quiet felt strange after the constant noise of the ballroom.
We walked without speaking for a block or two, letting the rhythm of our steps settle us. Finally, Jaime broke the silence.
“You reacted fast in there,” he said. “Both times.”
“I didn’t think,” I admitted. “I just felt it, like before.”
He nodded. “You stepped in front of that jump without hesitation.”
I shrugged, suddenly self-conscious. “Didn’t really feel heroic. More like my body moved before my brain caught up.”
“That’s usually how instinct works,” he said. “Especially when it matters.”
The diner came into view, a low building with glowing windows and a flickering neon sign that promised coffee and comfort food.
We slid into a booth near the back, vinyl squeaking under us. The smell of grease and sugar and something nostalgic wrapped around me.
Menus appeared. Coffee followed. The mundane ritual helped steady my nerves. Jaime watched me over the rim of his mug.
“You said earlier you saw something. Someone?” Jaime asked.
I exhaled slowly. “Yeah.”
I told him about Marion. About the smirk and the way my wolf had reacted. How wrong it felt. Jaime listened without interrupting, expression thoughtful. When I finished, he nodded once.
“You’re not wrong to pay attention to that,” he said. “But remember. I had Michael check the treats he gave me.”
“I know,” I said quickly. “And they were clean.”
“Which means if Marion is involved, he’s careful,” Jaime said. “Or he’s a red herring.”
“Maybe,” I said. “I just, well I don’t know. There’s something about him. My wolf doesn’t like him,” I muttered.
Jaime studied me for a long moment. “Your instincts have been solid so far.”
That validation warmed me more than the coffee. “Still doesn’t mean he’s guilty,” I pointed out.
“No,” Jaime agreed. “But it means we keep watching.”
The conversation tapered off after that, settling into something quieter. We ate. We talked about neutral things. The food helped, grounding us back in our bodies, back in the present.
Halfway through my burger, the words slipped out before I could stop them.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
Jaime looked up. “For what?”
“For earlier,” I said. “For messing up. For making you take over during the heats.” I swallowed. “I promise it won’t happen again. I’ll do better. I’ll try not to lean on you so much.”
The silence stretched, taut as a wire. Then Jaime leaned back, studying me with an intensity that made my pulse spike, like he was weighing something more than just my words.
