Later that evening, I stepped out onto the porch of Gavin's house, desperate for a breath of fresh night air to clear my head. Instead, I nearly collided withNathan's broad chest. He stood rigidly near the front steps, practically vibrating with agitation.
I startled, heart leaping into my throat. "What are you doing here?"
Nathan crossed his arms. "Came to get something from Gavin." His tone was clipped.
Tilting my head, I studied him warily. "Then why are you standing out here?"
His nostrils flared slightly, but he didn't answer. Instead, he muttered, "Have a good time on your date?"
I stiffened. "Excuse me?"
"With that teacher," Nathan bit out, gesturing vaguely back toward town.
An incredulous laugh burst from my lips. "That wasn't a date."
He scoffed. "Sure looked like one."
Folding my arms, I glared at him. "And why exactly would that be any of your business if it was?"
Nathan stepped closer, looming over me, his sheerpresence overwhelming in the dark. "It is my business. And you know it."
My breath caught. The intensity on his face was too much. I swallowed hard and forced myself to stand my ground, not backing down. "It's not," I insisted, but my voice wavered. Damn it.
A heavy, charged silence stretched taut between us. Neither of us moved. Neither of us looked away. The air crackled with unspoken words, unacknowledged tension, the magnetic pull that always seemed to draw us together no matter how much I resisted.
The creak of the front door made us both start. Gavin stepped out onto the porch. "Nathan, I got your shirt."
Nathan lurched back from me like he'd been scorched, slamming his impassive mask back into place. I exhaled shakily and turned away as Gavin handed him a folded garment. Without another word, I brushed past them into the house.
But my pulse was hammering so frantically against my ribs that I could barely catch my breath. No matter how hard I tried to deny it, I couldn't escape the truth:Nathan Gallagher was under my skin. And I was utterly terrified of how deep he'd already burrowed.
I ducked into the kitchen, trying to regain my composure. Gavin followed a moment later. He grabbed a beer from the fridge and leaned against the counter, popping the cap off with a hiss.
"What's with the shirt?" I asked, jerking my chin at the door.
Gavin glanced over, taking a swig of his beer. "It's for the case. Ula lost her scent, so the enforcers are reinforcing it."
That poor woman. "You think she's dead?"
Gavin's jaw tightened. "We don't know, but if even the wolves can’t find her, it’s not looking good."
A grim sense of foreboding settled in my gut. Something about this was wrong. Like whatever had happened to this woman was only the beginning of something much worse.
Gavin cleared his throat, drawing my attention back to him. "You know you can talk to me, right? About anything."
Iswallowed past the sudden lump in my throat. "I know," I said hoarsely. "I just… I don't know what to say. It's complicated."
"When is it not?" Gavin said wryly.
I huffed a laugh, blinking back the hot press of tears. Gavin set his beer down and crossed to me, pulling me into a tight hug. I buried my face in his shoulder, breathing in his familiar scent.
"It'll be okay, Riss," he murmured, rubbing my back soothingly. "You'll figure it out. And I'm here, no matter what."
I clung to him for a long moment, drawing strength from his solid presence. Then I pulled back, swiping at my damp cheeks. "Thanks, big brother," I said thickly.
He squeezed my shoulder. "Anytime, little sister."
I groaned, pushing off the counter. "I'm going to bed."
