“We can go inside,” I suggest.
Nick shakes his head. “They’ll mark us right away. We want Dalton to believe it’s safe to come here. I’ll ask Meena to set up a twenty-four-seven stakeout here.”
We still decide to walk around a bit in case we get something, but the smells are almost suffocatingly loud. We see a couple, both clearly werewolves, behind the counter, but that’s all we can gather without raising attention.
“You think they’re hiding something under all that smell?” Nick asks when we’re walking back, frustrated by the assault on our senses.
“Oh, I’m sure they are. The only question is how dangerous it is.”
Nick nods.
“Did you have breakfast?” he asks once we’re back on the road.
“No, the last call went late.”
“Good. I'm starving. Let's go to that bakery you say you don't like, but you love,” he suggests, smiling already.
Sometimes I envied how quickly Nick could change his mood. Dark clouds still hover over me. “Alright,” I agreeanyway. Who the hell says no to baked goods? Mood be damned.
We go all out and order too much, which quickly turns out to be too little. What can I say? We need a lot of calories.
“So, tell me more about your little human,” Nick says, inhaling his croissants. He got all the flavors they had.
“He has a name, you know.”
“Oh yeah, what was it again? I didn't pay attention to the five thousand times you mentioned it.”
I roll my eyes. “You make it sound like I’m constantly composing sonnets about Oliver.”
“Ooooh, I love that picture. What would Matt Hale look like composing poems for his beloved?”
I kick him under the table.
“Ouch.” He exaggeratedly rubs his legs. “Those are the money makers, dude.”
I shake my head.
“Why do you want to get away from Oliver so bad?” he asks, going straight for the jugular. This is why you don't have friends who’ve known you since you were a kid. It's a pain to hide anything from them.
“Because he deserves better,” I admit honestly.
“Better than you?” he asks, preparing for a lecture. He loves me too much to let shit like that slide.
“Better than the life he would have with me,” I correct.
“Matt, you know humans and werewolves can be happy together,” he insists.
“Can they? Because all I see is people trying to adjust to a life they were thrown into without their permission. Unable to fit in anywhere.”
Nick shakes his head. “That's because you only see one side of it. Everyone adjusts in relationships. People do a lot of thingsfor love. Gladly,” he says, sagely.
“Well, I’ll make sure it doesn't get to that.”
This time, he rolls his eyes. “Just don't use this as an excuse. You deserve to be happy. You know that, right?”
I smile. “I’m happy. I have you guys.”
Nick is the literal definition of a golden retriever and a guard dog rolled in one. The guy is just too optimistic for his own good. We've had this argument so many times that I can recite all his statements by heart.
