I sit with that, chewing my lip. It’s so foreign to me—not just the idea of fate, but certainty.
What would that even feel like?
The thought tightens something low in my chest. I’ve spent my whole life around supernaturals, yet there’s still so much I don’t understand. And now it’s like I’m somewhere between worlds—not quite human, not quite shifter.
I don’t know where I belong.
I scroll through the newest photos, trying to keep my breathing steady. Each one holds something warm and real, grounding me. Evan mid-laugh, snow caught in his hair from a snowball fight. Ivy humming while tucking some hair behind her ear, like it’s a habit. Jericho smiling in a way I’ve only seen when Evan’s in the room.
Each one is full of love. Warmth. Belonging.
Everything about these people is beautiful.
My gaze drifts toward Rowen again.So, so damn beautiful.
He catches me staring. “What?”
I sit up. “Nothing.”
He smirks. “Mm-hmm.”
After a moment, I say, “Aren’t you going to ask if I’m okay? Everyone else has, like, a million times.”
He wiggles his toes under my thigh as if trying to get warm. “I don’t need to. I can see you’re handling things about as well as anyone could.”
I chew my lip.
“Mostly, anyway.” He softens. “Youcantalk to me, though. You know that, right? Just because I’m giving you space doesn’t mean I’m not here to listen.”
I glance down at his foot pushing beneath my leg. “You call this space?”
His laugh spills out. When he tries to pull back, I catch his foot between my hands. “Kidding. It’s fine.”
His laugh fades, but his eyes don’t leave me. There’s something steady in his gaze, like he’s cataloging the moment—me laughing, not flinching.
“You don’t do that often,” he says quietly.
“Do what?”
“Let your guard down.”
The words should sting, but they don’t. Maybe because he says it without expectation. Just observation.
I look away, fiddling with the camera strap. “You make it easy.”
And it really is. Rowen is so easy to be around. No pressure. No microscope. No need to wear a mask.
His smile softens a little before he turns back to his screen. “If you give me an hour to finish this stuff, we can watch a movie after?”
My heart warms. “Sure.”
I stay curled in the beanbag, laptop warming my legs as I edit the photos. His feet stay tucked beneath me, steady and real, anchoring me in a way I don’t want to examine too closely.
When he’s finally done, he sets the laptop aside and stretches. “I’m going to grab us some snacks. Be back in a few.”
When he returns with a bowl of popcorn, a jar of peanuts, and two sodas, I snicker. “It’salwaysabout food with you guys, isn’t it?”
He plops down next to me, nearly knocking me off the beanbag. “Fast metabolism.”
