This scene before me, ridiculous as it is, feels right in a way I can’t explain, like the universe has aligned just so, bringing together these exact people (and a llama) at this precise moment.
I think of Everett, and how he should be here too, how the picture isn’t quite complete without him.
But it’s close. So close I can almost see it—the four of us together, building something real and lasting.
A true pack.
Oxford catches my eye from his new bed, and I swear the llama gives me a knowing look—like he understands precisely what I’m thinking and feeling, like he’s giving his approval to this strange, new possibility unfolding before us.
I smile back at him, acknowledging the absurdity of seeking validation from a llama and receiving it anyway.
They start playing again, with Melody winning every time, even though Finn is cheating.
“Gabe, seriously, come play with us,” Melody calls, looking up at me with those blue eyes that see too much. “Oxford is judging your antisocial behavior.”
I glance at the llama, who does indeed appear to be judging me.
“Can’t have that,” I say, sliding off the couch to join them on the floor. “What are we playing?”
“A game where cheating is impossible,” Melody says firmly.
“No such thing exists,” Finn counters.
As they bicker good-naturedly over the rules, I settle in, letting their voices wash over me. Oxford watches from his bed, his new scarf arranged perfectly around his neck, looking for all the world as if he belongs here.
Maybe he does.
Maybe we all do.
A true pack.
14
Everett
The words on the rental agreement blur together before my eyes. My clients don’t care that I’m knee-deep in pine needles and holiday madness.
I rub my eyes, willing them to focus.
Just three more applications to complete before I can call it a night. I wanted so badly to join the others at the grand cabin for dinner, but my guilty conscience wouldn’t let me leave until I’d caught up on my paperwork.
My phone buzzes.
A text from Gabe.
I open it and immediately feel my heart stutter. It’s a photo of Oxford, looking absurdly dignified on what appears to be a dog bed in the Grand Cabin. Melody sits beside him, head thrown back in laughter at something Finn is saying off-camera. She wears an oversized sweater that hangs off one shoulder, revealing a sliver of skin that makes my mouth go dry.
“Your llama has made himself at home,” Gabe’s text reads. “Melody says he’s upgraded from guest to roommate.”
I zoom in on the photo. The traitor looks more relaxed than I’ve seen him since Granny went to the hospital. And Melody…
Melody looks happy. Radiant. Comfortable.
Something hot twists in my gut, a sensation I’m not proud of. I stare at the photo longer than necessary, taking in the casual way she sits cross-legged on the floor, the way her blonde hair cascades over her shoulders, the joy on her face.
It’s not that I’m jealous. That would be ridiculous.
I don’t get jealous of my friends hanging out with our pretty scent-match in the cabin I own.
