“You’re ridiculous,” I tell him.
“You love it.”
I do. I really do.
This spot hasn’t changed in ten years. The creek still burbles over smooth stones thirty feet away, the old oak tree still spreads its branches wide overhead, and the clearing still feels like our own private world. We took that photograph here, the one I kept on my desk for so long. The one I eventually stuffed in my drawer when I thought I had to let him go.
Now, here we are again. Together. I almost pinch myself to make sure it’s real.
“This is so nice,” Kain says absently. “I can see why we used to like this place even though I don’t remember that time. The sun, the breeze, the rippling of the water…It’s perfect.”
A smile tugs at my lips as I look at his beautiful face. Although the things we used to love are now new to him, I get to watch him fall in love with them all over again.
“You know,” I say, plucking another grape from the container and popping it in my mouth, “you used to go fishing in that creek. In your wolf form.”
Kain’s eyebrows lift. “Did I?”
“You were terrible at it,” I continue, grinning at the memory. “You’d stand in the water for hours, completely still, waiting for a fish to swim by. When you eventually saw one, you’d pounce and miss completely. Splashing everywhere. You’d come out soaking wet and so proud of yourself even though you never caught anything.”
He looks genuinely entertained by this, his eyes crinkling softly at the sides. “Sounds like I was quite the hunter.”
“You were…enthusiastic,” I say diplomatically. “That counts for something.”
Kain sits up, brushing crumbs off his hands. “Well, the new me can do better than that.”
“Oh really?”
“Really.” He stands up and stretches, and I admire the way his shirt pulls across his shoulders, my wolf all but purring. “I’m going to catch a fish. Right now. In human form.”
I laugh. “Kain, you don’t have to—”
“I do.” He’s already walking toward the creek, determination in every step. “I have a reputation to uphold.”
I watch him go, still smiling.
The back of him. That’s all I can see as he walks away, broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist, dark hair catching the sunlight. And suddenly, I’m not seeing the man he is now. I’m seeing the boy he was back then. Seventeen years old, laughing over his shoulder at me, racing toward the creek with that same confident stride.
The images blur together. Past and present overlapping until I can’t tell which is which.
Tears, hot and unexpected, prick at my eyes.
I didn’t think I’d ever get to be this happy again. Didn’t think I’d ever see him walk toward that creek, hear his laugh, feel his touch, or taste grape sweetness on his lips.
The past ten days have been perfect. We’ve been carefully rebuilding everything I thought was lost forever. For all the angst it took to get here, I haven’t felt this light in years.
We’ve been dating properly, as though we just met. Going to movies where we share popcorn and he steals my soda. Getting coffee at the little shop near headquarters where he orders the same complicated drink every time and I tease him about it. Taking long drives through pack territory during which he asks me to tell him stories about places we used to go.
Dinner at the Italian restaurant downtown where I told him about the time we snuck out to human territory and he won a basketball game using unfair, wolf shifter advantages. The art gallery where we wandered through exhibits and I explainedhow he used to sketch sometimes, mostly wolves and trees and my face when he thought I wasn’t looking.
Late nights on my couch watching terrible reality TV. Early mornings in my kitchen where he makes surprisingly good pancakes. Stolen kisses in the break room at the office. His hand finding mine under the table during pack meetings.
Small moments. New memories layered over old ones. It’s not the same as what we had before, but it’s something. It’s ours.
And sitting here, watching him crouch by the creek with his sleeves rolled up and his focus absolute, I think maybe it’s enough.
“Got one!” Kain’s shout startles me out of my thoughts.
He’s standing in the shallows, water up to his knees, holding a fish above his head like a trophy. It’s not a big fish. Honestly, it’s barely bigger than his hand. But the grin on his face is absolutely triumphant.
