Nathan chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, I guess I did spend a lot of time here back then."
Gavin clapped him on the shoulder. "Come on, let's eat. I'm starving."
We all settled around the table, passing dishes and filling our plates. The conversation flowed easily, catching up on old times and new happenings. But I was hyper aware of Nathan's presence, like a live wire under my skin.
I couldn't help stealing glances at him, noticing the way his shoulders tensed whenever Elle spoke to me with that subtle undercurrent of disdain. Did he see it, too? Did it bother him?
At one point, I looked up and caught Nathan watching me. Instead of turning away, he held my gaze, his brown eyes intense and unreadable. Heat prickled along my skin. What was this attraction between us?
Elle laughed at something Gavin said, breaking the moment. I blinked, looking back down at my plate. But I couldn't shake the feeling of Nathan's eyes on me.
He seemed distracted, not fully engaged in the lively chatter around the table. Like he was here, but not really here. Lost in his own thoughts.
Was he thinking about me? About us? About this unspoken thing that lingered in the space between us?
I risked another glance at him and found him staring down at his plate, his brow furrowed.
Across the table, Mom kept sneaking glances at me, a knowing look in her eye. Like she could see rightthrough me, right into the tangled mess of emotions I was trying so hard to ignore.
I quickly looked away, focusing on my food. But I could still feel her gaze on me, silently observing, quietly understanding.
She had always been too perceptive for her own good. And right now, that was the last thing I needed.
Gavin's phone buzzed on the table, making me jump. He frowned and picked it up, glancing at the screen. "I need to take this," he muttered, already standing.
Mom watched him go, her lips pursed. "I swear, that boy is always working."
Dad shook his head. "He got that from me. I never knew when to take a break either."
Nathan smirked, but there was a fondness in his expression. "Some things never change."
Gavin stepped into the other room, his voice low but sharp. I couldn't make out the words, but the tone was unmistakable—serious, urgent.
Nathan noticed, too. Hisfingers tapped lightly against the table, his attention divided between his plate and whatever Gavin was dealing with.
Mom glanced between us, her brows knitting together. "Should we be worried?"
Dad shook his head. "Gavin's got it handled. Let him work."
But the tension in the room had shifted, the easy atmosphere from before evaporating like mist under the morning sun.
Gavin returned a few minutes later, slipping his phone back into his pocket as he took his seat. Nathan didn't hesitate. "What's going on?"
Gavin exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face. "A tourist went missing. Woman in her twenties, staying at one of the rental cabins near the woods."
Mom frowned. "Stock Creek isn't the kind of place where people go missing, is it?"
Gavin sighed. "No, but this is the second case in a few weeks. The first one turned up, though. Just wandered too far out on a hike and got lost for a couple of days."
Nathan's expression darkened. "And you think this one is different?"
Gavin hesitated. "I don't know yet. She was supposed to pick up a takeout order from the diner, but she never showed. Her car is still parked outside."
The table fell silent. A missing person was never good news, but a missing human in a town full of shifters? That was even worse.
Dad cleared his throat. "Maybe she just ran off somewhere?"
Gavin shook his head. "Could be nothing, but I have a bad feeling."
