I nodded. “Obviously.”
Connor slid his glass over to Pete for a refill. “Sounds almost like she’s your fated mate.”
Something in my memory stirred at that.
I had heard the term before. Stories from the old pack gatherings. Conversations that had happened when I was younger.
Rare connections. Deep bonds. A fated mate was someone who triggered instincts you couldn’t easily ignore.
I frowned slightly. “I’ve been out of the shifter world since I was a kid,” I said. “That possibility never crossed my mind.”
Connor studied me.
“It would explain the intensity.” I stared at the glass in front of me.
The connection with Zoey had felt immediate from the beginning. The pull toward her had grown stronger each time we crossed paths. No matter what I did, my thoughts wandered to her.
It would explain the impulses and the constant awareness, the constant need to make sure she was safe.
I rubbed my temples. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Why not?” Connor asked.
“Because I already ruined it.”
Connor took a small card out of his wallet. “I’ve had a lot of junk to work through,” he said casually. “There’s a therapy group for shifters a few towns over. Helps with some of the instinct stuff.” He slid the card toward me. “Might be worth looking into.”
I picked it up and studied the simple print on the front.
Shifter Support Group. Weekly meetings.
“Thank you.”
He finished his drink and stood.
“Good luck,” he said as he headed to the door.
“To a certain extent, you’ve always had these tendencies,” Pete said quietly. “Checking things. Getting stuck on problems.” He tapped the bar lightly. “That’s not necessarily a bad thing. You’ve managed it for years.”
“I know.”
“But if it starts affecting your life negatively,” Pete continued, “or the people around you, it might be time to talk to someone who understands how your brain works.”
I rolled the small card between my fingers.
“I know it’s not normal,” I said.
Pete shrugged. “Normal is overrated.”
“That doesn’t change the problem.”
“No,” he said. “But it might help you figure out what to do next.”
I took another drink as Zoey’s face flashed through my mind.
Her firm expression when she told me she needed space. The way she had stood there, holding the boundary even though I could see the conflict in her posture.
I set the glass down slowly.
