“This is so funny,” Leo said.
Dorian just sipped his espresso, deadpan. “He’s going to fall.”
I stood beside them, heart pounding, watching Cass inch up the tree like he did this every day. The cat hissed, then tried to climb higher, and I winced.
“This is stupid,” I said. “He’s going to get himself killed.”
“Bears don’t die from climbing trees,” Leo pointed out.
But somehow, he didn’t. He cradled the cat like it was made of glass and carefully began the descent.
When he hit the ground, the cat bolted, tail high and offended, and Cass grinned like a man who’d just won a battle.
A sweet, frail old woman in a powder-blue coat soon rushed toward us, tears in her eyes.
“Buttons! Oh, thank you, thank you so much!” She clutched Cass’s hand and kissed his cheek.
Then she patted Rafael on the chest and pinched Leo’s cheek like they were her grandsons.
“You boys are angels,” she said, voice trembling.
The others softened like I’d never seen before. These big, gruff bear shifters, half-feral to anyone who didn’t know them, just melted under the warmth of her gratitude.
Even Dorian offered a ghost of a smile. Something in me… cracked open.
We walked back to the bakery, a little lighter, a little closer. I caught Rafael giving me a look I couldn’t quite decipher. Then he bumped my shoulder with his.
“You didn’t do half bad, rookie.”
“Didn’t even climb a tree,” I muttered.
“Didn’t have to,” he said. “You were there.”
It wasn’t much. But it meant something.
By the end of the shift, the ovens were quiet, the countertops scrubbed clean. The others were filing out with their jackets slung over their shoulders, calling casual goodbyes.
I lingered upstairs by the window, looking out over the sleepy town.
Safe. That’s how it felt. Strange, for a boy like me. I leaned on the windowsill, thinking about Beau. Again. It had been a week since he asked me out for coffee.
A week since I told him no, voice tight and heart slamming against my ribs.
He hadn’t brought it up since, not once. He was still kind. Still warm. Still careful with me. But he hadn’t asked again. And now?
Now I wished I’d said yes.
The truth was, I’d been scared. Still was. But he hadn’t pressured me. He’d just waited. Quietly. Gently. Giving me room to breathe.
How long would he wait?
Maybe I didn’t have the answer to that. Beau was patient, sure, but even patience had its limits. Still, there was one thing I knew for certain.
I wanted him to ask me out again.
The thought lodged itself in my chest, warm and unshakable. But then something else followed, a quieter realization, one that made my pulse skip.
Why shouldn’t I take the initiative for once?
