Someone was barbecuing out back. Probably Cyrus or Rowan, judging by the way the scent of burnt edges overpowered everything else.
Wolves didn’t believe in low heat. They cooked like they fought, aggressively and fast.
I adjusted the box of pastries in my hands and rolled my neck, tension lodged there like stone. These weren’t just Bear and Bun leftovers.
They were peace offerings. Bribes, maybe. Sugar-coated olive branches. The moment I stepped inside, I could feel the energy shift.
The living room was already full. Wolves sprawled across couches and floor cushions, drinks in hand, their easy banter bouncing off the walls.
Across from them, the bears stood clustered around the snack table like a defensive line of linebackers, exchanging smirks and pointed jabs with their wolf counterparts.
It wasn’t hostile. Not exactly. But there was an edge. A pulse beneath the surface, as if we were all sizing each other up, still unsure if we were here for a war council or a party.
Beau had claimed the biggest armchair, beer in hand, lounging like a man who had no worries in the world. But I knew him too well.
I saw the tightness in his jaw, the tension in his shoulders. He was ready to pounce at the first wrong word. This wasn’t just a casual social call.
This was about Avery and the mess he’d stirred up in Sugarpaw Springs.
I stepped further in and caught sight of James near the back door, drink in hand, chatting with Sean. His laugh drifted toward me, light and easy.
He looked real good.
Hair mussed, sleeves rolled, jeans hugging his hips in a way that made it hard to think straight. But the tightness in his jaw, the way he kept scanning the room, gave him away.
I made my way to him, weaving through wolves and bears arguing over burgers and beer pong rules. But I didn’t care about any of that.
Not when James was standing by the wall, arms crossed, worry written all over his face like it was carved into stone.
“You okay?” I asked, voice low and close, just for him.
James startled slightly, like he hadn’t noticed me coming, then plastered on a smile. “Fine.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Try again.”
He let out a slow breath and leaned back against the wall, glancing around the room like it was too loud, too full.
“This is exactly what I wanted to avoid. Dragging people I care about into my mess,” James admitted.
“You didn’t drag anyone,” I said, stepping closer. “Avery did.”
“I should’ve told Callum sooner. Or the others. I should’ve?—”
“You did what you thought was right,” I interrupted. “You were trying to protect them. That matters.”
He looked up at me, eyes tired but still searching. “You think that still matters?”
I didn’t hesitate. I stepped even closer, close enough that the space between us hummed. My fingers brushed his, warm and steady. “Yeah. I do.”
I glanced around briefly, saw Rowan tossing marshmallows at Cass, who was too busy arguing with Cyrus about grilling techniques to notice me. Good.
I turned back to James.
“This… this is bigger than just you now. Avery saw a way into this town through you. He thought no one would notice. He thought you’d keep carrying the weight quietly. But he was wrong,” I told him.
James didn’t answer right away. His shoulders slumped as he leaned into me, just a little, like he was letting himself rest for the first time in days.
I didn’t move away. I didn’t care who was watching.
