Page 50 of Easy, Tiger

"Some. You?"

She accepts the mug I offer. "Better than I should have, considering. What's the plan for today?"

"I want you to meet my father properly. He has things to say about mates and choices that you should hear from him, not me. And whatever questions you have, he'll answer them straighter than I will."

My father's cabin sits twenty minutes past the enclave's edge, deeper in the forest than the others, positioned where the morning sun filters through ancient pines onto a wraparound porch he built with his own hands years ago. Smoke rises from the chimney in a thin column, and I can hear the rhythmic sound of his axe splitting kindling behind the house.

"Dad?" I call as we approach.

The axe stops. "Around back, son."

We find him stacking split oak, his movements easy and practiced, marking everything he does with the same effortless competence. At sixty-two, his shoulders retain the breadth that made him legendary among the enclave's builders, though silver now threads through hair that used to match mine.

He sets down the axe, wiping his hands on a cloth before extending one to her. "You must be Halsey. I’m Caleb. I owe you thanks for saving my boy's stubborn hide."

"He's worth saving."

"Most days." Dad's face creases into something approaching a smile. "Come inside. We should talk."

His front room reflects decades of craftsmanship: hand-hewn beams and furniture built to outlast generations, every window oriented to catch the available light. Halsey runs her fingers along the arm of a rocking chair, recognizing the quality of work that goes beyond mere function.

"Beautiful," she murmurs.

"Nolan gets his eye for wood from me, his patience from his mother." Dad settles into his own chair, gesturing for us to take the couch. "Though he seems to have misplaced both lately."

"Dad."

"What? You think I haven't noticed you pacing circles around this woman for weeks?" He turns his attention to Halsey. "Has he told you about the mating bond?"

"Some of it."

"Then you know it's real—the pull between you, the certainty that feels stronger than choice." Dad gives voice to the moment with the heavy resignation born of having endured this process before, more than once. "But here's what young shifters forget: biology might introduce you, but it can't build love. That takes time, effort, and the freedom to walk away if it doesn't work."

Halsey moves forward slightly. "You're saying the bond doesn't guarantee happiness."

"I'm saying it guarantees attraction and compatibility. Everything else, the trust and the respect and the rest of it, you build together or you don't. Nolan's been fighting the bond for weeks, trying to let you choose him freely. That tells me more about his character than any mystical connection could."

"With your mate, how did you know it had actually become love, and not the bond talking?" Halsey asks quietly. "How do you tell the difference?"

A softness passes across Dad's face. "The bond doesn't care what you argue about, or who does the dishes, or whether you can stand each other on a bad day. Love does. Two years in, I picked a fight with Nolan's mother over something so small I don't even remember it now, and she stayed and fought right back instead of walking away. That's when I knew."

"And that worked?"

"For thirty-four years, until cancer took her." He reaches across the space between us, briefly squeezing Halsey's hand. "The bond brought us together. Choice kept us together. Don't let anyone—including my son—tell you otherwise."

"Thank you," Halsey says simply. "For the honesty."

We leave Dad to his firewood and walk toward the main clearing, where the enclave has already begun its morning routines. Owen adjusts the radio equipment beside the community fire pit while Sadie helps Karlene inventory supplies spread across wooden tables. The organized chaos of preparation fills the air with purpose, people checking gear and discussing routes before winter migration begins in earnest.

"This is what it looks like," I tell Halsey, watching her take everything in. "The life you're choosing to step into."

"It looks like a community to me with more interesting logistics than most."

"A community you don't have to accept," I tell her, inspecting her face as she takes in the purposeful bustle around us. "It truly is your choice, Halsey. I would never force you."

She stops walking and turns to face me, hands planted on her hips in a gesture I'm already learning means she's reached the end of her patience with something.

"You're stubborn, you know that?" Exasperation and fondness vie for control of her face equally. "How many times are you going to keep asking me the same question? I'm here. I stayed after you shifted into a massive tiger in front of me. I spent the night in your cabin instead of running screaming back to civilization. What exactly do you think it's going to take for you to believe me?"