“Thought you might want company,” he says, offering me one of the mugs. “You’ve been keeping to yourself.”
I accept the drink—some kind of herbal tea that burns pleasantly down my throat. “Not much of a joiner.”
“So I gathered.” Dane settles against the balustrade, mimicking my pose. “Though you did fine on those perimeter checks last week. I notice you didn’t even complain about the rain like some of our softer pack members.”
I smile, remembering the torrential downpour we’d trudged through together. “Your definition of ‘light drizzle’ needs serious recalibration.”
“Hey, I warned you to bring a jacket,” Dane grins.
“You said, and I quote, ‘maybe grab something in case it gets chilly.’ That’s not the same as ‘prepare for biblical flooding.’”
Dane laughs, the sound surprisingly similar to his sister’s. “Semantics. At least you kept up.” He takes a long drink before smacking his lips together.
The kid is as subtle as a punch to the face. I wait for whatever question he has to ask me.
“You know, twenty years as a nomad. That’s a long time alone.”
“No shit.”
“Do you miss it?”
I shrug. “It suited me.”
“Past tense?”
I take another sip, considering the question. “Your sister has a way of complicating things.”
Dane snorts. “That’s one way to put it. Lithia’s never done anything the easy way.” His expression turns serious. “What are your intentions regarding her?”
The directness catches me off guard, though I probably should have expected it. Pack bonds run deep, and twin bonds deeper still.
“Are you asking as her brother or as a member of this pack?”
“Both. And as someone who’s just starting to enjoy having you around.” Dane’s tone shifts, becoming more earnest despite his casual posture. “It would be a shame to have to hate you just when I’m getting used to your terrible jokes.”
“My jokes are excellent,” I protest with mock offense.
“The pun you made about the elk tracks yesterday was unforgivable and you know it.”
I can’t help but smile at the memory. “Made you laugh, though.”
“A momentary lapse in judgment,” Dane counters, but his eyes are warm. He pauses, then adds more seriously, “Look, I care about my sister’s happiness. And weirdly enough, I’m starting to care about yours too.”
I meet his gaze. “I care about her. More than I’ve cared about anyone in a very long time.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Fair enough. I set down the mug, choosing my words carefully. “I want to stay. To be part of this pack, to be with her. But I won’t force either situation if I’m not wanted.”
“And if she pushes you away? Because she will—it’s what she does when she starts catching feelings for something.”
“Then I’ll push back. Until she believes I’m not going anywhere.”
Dane nods slowly. “Good answer.” He pauses, then adds, “She’s been alone too long. If it’s possible to be a nomad in a pack, that’s what she is. She’s convinced herself that caring equals losing. Our parents died protecting us when we were children. She’s never forgiven herself for surviving.”
“Survivor’s guilt.” I know it well.
“Among other things.” Dane looks down at the trainingyard. “She’ll test you, probably sooner than later. Make sure you’re ready for it.”
