Caleb sets the plates down on the table, full of too much food, then stands by the coffee machine and pours himself a mug. But I catch the way he watches us, almost like he’s waiting for something, or, at the very least, is considering something.
When he returns to the table and sits with us, he listens while Astrid talks happily through breakfast, mentioning how Hunter showed her a puzzle trick and how Zane said she was smarter than all of them. She imitates their deep voices, making us both chuckle despite ourselves.
She’s carefree in a way I haven’t seen in a few days, and I cling to that, never wanting that to end.
But every so often, I catch Caleb watching me, or taking in how I interact with Astrid like he’s studying us.
And when breakfast comes to an end, Astrid wanders back into the living room to play with the old games, leaving the kitchen far too quiet. It’s obvious now how effective she is at diffusing tension and returning it in her absence.
“So,” Caleb begins after a moment, glancing at me with a neutral expression. “How old is she?”
It sounds like an innocent enough question, but I know better than to assume it isn’t loaded anyway. “Four.”
Something flexes in his jaw, and he pauses before asking, “Who’s her father?”
My heart lurches at that, and I try with everything I am not to lock up and make it obvious. “Why do you care?”
His gaze hardens. “Because another pack wants both of you, and even Wraith Peak wolves don’t pursue children without a reason. I want to know who fathered her.”
Despite the difficulty, I keep my breathing steady. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It does.”
The tension between us is blistering now, caused by everything left unsaid. I narrow my eyes at him, well aware that he’s digging.
“If this is about before, that was years ago. I moved on.”
“You didn’t answer the question.”
My hand clenches beneath the table, nails biting in my palm to keep that panic at bay. But instead of letting the truth slip out, I lie.
“It was someone you don’t know,” I say coldly, hoping it’s biting enough to get him off my back. “Someone from another pack.”
Caleb’s posture changes in a way I can’t read, and his brows pull together while something unreadable moves across his face.
I can tell there’s plenty he wants to say, but instead, he settles for a simple response that still manages to sting anyway.
“I see…”
Not knowing why, I scramble for something else to say, whether it’s to add more weight to the lie or to soothe the tension in his face, even if I shouldn’t care. “He’s not in the picture.”
His jaw flexes, and he mutters, “Irritating.”
“What is?”
“That you have ties with someone from another pack, given what’s happening.”
While I have half the mind to assume I’m imagining it, that possessive edge in his words echoes in my mind, and it triggers something in me, reminding me of what he said yesterday in the woods.
“I don’t belong to you, so don’t pretend I do.”
Caleb pushes away from the counter and steps closer to the table again, not touching me, but close enough to feel oppressive in my space.
“I didn’t say you did. But I need to know who else might claim you, or Astrid,” he mutters, not bothering to hide the friction in his tone.
It both makes my spine tingle and stirs my anger even more.
“No one will. Just drop it.”
