“I need a drink.”
Pete raised an eyebrow. “Just one?”
“A triple.”
He nodded slowly and reached for the bottle. “That kind of night?”
“Yes.”
The guest beside me glanced over as Pete poured the glass. “Same thing I ordered.”
He looked to be in his mid-thirties, with dark hair and the relaxed posture of someone who had spent a long day outdoors.
“Liam, this is Connor. He comes up here at the beginning of every fall. Shifter too.”
He lifted his glass. “Shifter metabolism barely lets me get a buzz,” he added. “Might as well start strong.”
That caught my attention. I rarely encountered other shifters in casual settings. Most of us who didn’t live in packs kept to ourown territories or moved quietly through human spaces without drawing attention.
I picked up the glass Pete set in front of me.
“Fair point.”
I lifted the drink slightly toward the man beside me, then took a long swallow.
The burn settled briefly in my chest before fading.
Pete watched me for a moment. “You want to talk about it?”
I set the glass down and looked at the bar. “Yes.”
Pete leaned his elbows on the counter. “Well?”
I exhaled slowly. “I really fucked things up with Zoey.”
Pete winced. “That’s not the opening line I was hoping for.”
Running a hand through my hair, I told him what had happened.
Pete listened without interrupting. The man beside me stayed quiet as well, nursing his drink while I finished explaining.
When I stopped speaking, Pete gaped at me. “Whoa,” he said finally.
“Yes.”
“That’s… a lot.”
“Yes.”
He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “But I can see where you were coming from.”
“That doesn’t make it acceptable.”
“No,” Pete agreed. “But it does help explain it.”
I finished my drink, and Pete refilled it without asking.
“You care about her,” he said.
