“I appreciate the offer,” he said, voice going softer, more hesitant. “I just... I need to focus.”
I could’ve pushed. I wanted to. But I knew what it felt like to be hunted by your own memories. To flinch at shadows. To need time, even if you didn’t know how to ask for it.
So I said the only thing that felt right. “I’ll wait.”
His head snapped up, startled. “What?”
“I’ll wait,” I repeated, my voice rough but calm. “You don’t have to explain. But if you ever decide you’re ready… I’ll still be here. Probably covered in flour. Probably still making terrible pastry.”
He stared at me, lips parted like he was about to say something else, but no words came.
Just a nod. One slow, almost painful dip of his head. Then he turned and walked up the stairs, back to the half-finished space I’d offered him.
My supposed future office that had somehow become a safe place for someone I wasn’t ready to lose. The door shut behind him with a soft click.
I leaned against the counter, heart thudding like I’d just survived a battle. And maybe I had. Because I hadn’t just asked him out. I’d opened a door. Not just for him, but for me too.
I really hoped he’d walk through it someday.
SEAN
The day started like any other. The scent of fresh dough and cinnamon drifted through the air as the ovens roared to life.
I was already elbow-deep in pastry prep when Rafael strolled in, hair slightly tousled, sipping from a chipped travel mug and offering me a lazy two-fingered salute.
Cassian followed right behind him, dramatic as ever, lamenting over a collapsed lemon tart like it had personally offended his ancestors.
Dorian grunted his hello, already fussing with the espresso machine like it was a moody pet, and Leo buzzed in shortly after, grinning ear to ear like he was born with sunshine in his veins.
We were falling into rhythm, day by day. I could feel it, the comfort of routine, of shared space, of learning to belong.
Still… something about it felt a little off. Not bad, exactly. Just… cautious.
They liked me. I could tell. We laughed together, worked well side by side, shared more than a few ridiculous baking fails. But beneath all that?
There was a tension I couldn’t quite name. Like they were all holding something back around me.
As if I were this fragile, unfamiliar thing, something to observe from a distance, not quite one of them yet. It was kind of silly.
I was the least dangerous person in the room. And they were bear shifters, each of them big enough to fold me in half if they wanted to.
But I wasn’t naïve enough to think that scars, emotional or physical, didn’t make people wary. Maybe they just needed more time. Maybe I did, too.
That afternoon, the lull between lunch rush and prep for the next day came with a surprise. A screeching, panicked yowl from outside the bakery that practically shook the windows.
“What in the—?” I began.
Cassian was already tossing off his apron before I could finish my sentence, eyes wide as he darted toward the door.
We all followed him out, and there it was. A cat, perched way too high up in the tree across the street, eyes wild and terrified.
“Oh no,” I breathed.
Cassian had the most ridiculous glint in his eye, like he’d been waiting for an excuse to scale something. “I got it.”
Rafael snorted. “You also got a death wish.”
But Cass was already climbing, muttering something poetic about branches being lifelines and feline souls needing rescue. Leo bounced in place, practically vibrating with excitement.
