Because I liked the way he looked when he got flustered? Also not helping my case.
Or because my mom’s voice was still echoing in my head, talking about futures and mates and not ending up alone while everyone else moved on without me?
That one hit a little closer.
I exhaled slowly. “Doesn’t matter,” I said.
I pushed the key into the ignition and started the truck. It didn’t matter why I’d said yes.
By the time I turned the truck back toward the pack compound, the road felt shorter. Or maybe my head was just too busy to notice the distance.
Streetlights slid past in a steady rhythm, but I barely registered them. My thoughts kept looping back to the same place and person. Seth.
I tightened my grip on the steering wheel, then loosened it again.
“Get a grip,” I muttered.
My wolf did not get a grip. My wolf replayed the entire scene like it was a highlight reel.
Seth’s voice when he saidpretend date.
The flush in his cheeks. The way his eyes had gone wide when I said yes, and, because apparently I had no self-preservation instincts left, the wink.
I groaned. “Why did we do that?”
My wolf, deeply unhelpful, seemed to think it had been a brilliant move.
I pulled into the driveway a few minutes later, the familiar shape of the house coming into view under the soft spill of porch light.
The yard was quieter now. There was no loud bursts of laughter, no arguing over food, no tiny dog declaring war on the universe.
I cut the engine and sat there for a second, letting the quiet settle.
Then I grabbed the leftover six-pack I’d actually remembered to pick up. The back gate creaked as I pushed it open.
“Look who decided to come back,” Mark called from the patio, already grinning.
“Beer run successful?” Chris added.
I held up the pack. “I bring offerings.”
They were all gathered near the table, plates stacked, chairs pushed in halfway.
Zack was saying something to my dad, Jaime was trying to wrangle Pampi into a tiny leash that the dog clearly resented.
Mark was watching me with the kind of interest that meant he was about to ask questions I didn’t want to answer.
“So,” he said, strolling over. “Emergency beer situation, huh?”
“That’s right,” I said.
“Mm,” he said, unconvinced. “You look weirdly pleased for a guy who just went on a supply run.”
“I always look like this,” I argued.
“No, you don’t.”
I ignored him and handed off the beers. My mom had stepped out onto the patio, drying her hands on a towel.
