"It won't! Drake, I swear to god if you—"
We hit the water. Cold and shocking, stealing my breath. We went under together and came up gasping and laughing despite myself.
I shoved at his chest. "I'm going to kill you."
He was grinning, water dripping from his hair, eyes bright with mischief. "You're not mad."
"I am absolutely mad."
"You're laughing."
"I'm plotting your murder."
He tickled my sides and I shrieked, splashing him. "Forgive me," he said.
"Never."
"Forgive me or I'll dunk you again."
"You wouldn't dare."
He raised an eyebrow.
"Fine! Fine, you're forgiven!"
He pulled me into a hug, warm despite the cold water, and kissed me softly. Eli was laughing from the shore. Ragon was there too, sitting on his towel with his book, but he was smiling. Actually smiling, not the tight-lipped thing he'd started doing later. A real smile.
It was a good day. One of the many good ones before everything got complicated.
I come back to the present slowly, my hands still in the dirt, the memory sitting bittersweet in my chest.
I miss them.
Not the pack they became after Marie arrived. I don't miss the careful, painful choreography of trying to exist in their atmosphere while watching them orbit someone else.
I miss the pack they were. Like we used to be when things were simple and I was enough andwewere enough. Before the scent match. Before my body became transparent and everything broke into pieces I didn't know how to put back together.
I pull another weed and the rosemary releases its sharp, clean scent into the air.
I grab the hem of the huge shirt and bring it to my nose, breathing deep. The scent is still strange, still bordering uncomfortable. But it helps. My brain quiets and I feel better.
Alex appears with water sometime later.
I didn't hear him coming, but suddenly he's there, setting a bottle down next to me in the dirt. He steps back immediately, giving me space, not crowding.
"You looked like yourself out here," he says. "Whoever you are when nobody's watching."
I sit back on my heels and wipe dirt on my jeans, looking up at him. The afternoon sun is behind him, turning his edges gold.
"I don't know who that person is anymore."
"Then this is a good place to find out."
The words sit between us and do something to me I can't immediately name.
He crouches down. He doesn’t crowd me, he’s just close enough to be present. His juniper scent drifts over, grounding and familiar in a way that shouldn't feel familiar yet. The connection between us tugs, pulling deep, making me want to lean in his direction.
I don't.
