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“Sometimes.”

“I always listen,” I said.

They ignored me.

Grandma kissed Sloane’s cheek before moving toward the kitchen. The affection came naturally now. Nobody hesitated before including her. Nobody treated her presence as temporary.

A low, contented hum vibrated in my chest, my wolf soaking in the sight with quiet triumph. The subtle shift in the room’s air was undeniable—her scent of pine and clean fabric wasn’t hovering at the edges anymore; it was mixed in with the coffee, the woodsmoke, and the scent of the pack. She belonged here. Watching Grandma claim her so casually eased a tight, unspoken ache I’d been carrying for weeks. Sloane wasn’t bracing for impact or looking for the nearest exit anymore. She was staying, and my whole world felt sturdier for it.

Karen had been watching Sloane. A glance when Sloane touched Grandma’s arm. Another when she accepted a drink from Julie. A longer look when Caldwell brought her a paper crown and waited until she put it on.

Karen hadn’t said anything else unkind. She’d even complimented Sloane’s blueberry crumble, though the compliment included a question about whether she’d used fresh lemon zest.

For Karen, that qualified as warmth. Still, something felt wrong. My aunt didn’t observe anyone so closely if she didn’t have a reason.

The music changed before I could think more of it. Patty had taken over the music and selected a song with a strong beat and enough nostalgia to pull half the adults onto the dance floor.

Trevor appeared in front of Sloane and bowed. “May I have this dance?”

She smiled. “You may not make it weird.”

“I make no guarantees.” He took her hand and spun her toward the center.

Sloane laughed and allowed herself to be dragged into a group with Patty, Jason, two cousins, and several children who’d decided jumping counted as dancing.

Sloane caught my eye and crooked one finger.

I went.

She met me at the edge of the dance floor. “You should participate,” she said.

“I’m supervising.”

“You’re always supervising.”

“Someone needs to.”

Sloane put both hands on my shoulders. “Dance with me.”

I settled my hands at her waist. “This is not the song I would have chosen.”

Her smile widened. The song was too fast for anything romantic, but Sloane made it work. She moved with an unselfconscious energy that would’ve been impossible for her weeks earlier, laughing when I turned her and nearly collided with Byron.

Byron stepped aside with visible disapproval. “You could establish a traffic pattern,” he said.

“It’s dancing,” Sloane replied.

“That doesn’t remove the need for spatial awareness.”

Jason pulled Byron into the crowd before he could continue.

Sloane laughed. “Your family is incredible.”

“You say that because you don’t have to manage them.”

“I manage clients. The difference is mostly invoicing.”

Her hands slid higher around my neck. For a few seconds, the noise around us softened.