Caldwell kept standing.
I took my phone out of my pocket and lowered the brightness. “Hudson told me you like to draw.”
He glanced toward the sketchbook under his arm.
“I draw too, but not very well when people watch.” That wasn’t entirely true. I drew professionally, so I’d had to get used to being analyzed while I worked. But that didn’t matter right now.
I opened a blank note and used my finger to make a terrible cartoon wolf.
Caldwell’s gaze moved to the screen.
I added eyebrows. “He’s upset because someone used his mug.”
Caldwell’s mouth twitched.
I drew a second wolf. “This one did it.”
After a moment, Caldwell lowered himself to the floor across from me.
Nobody approached. I glanced up and found Julie watching us. Patty stood beside her and had apparently stopped anyone else from interfering.
Caldwell opened his sketchbook. He turned to a blank page and drew quickly. His wolf had better proportions, expression, and structure.
“That’s humiliating,” I said. “Truly. I’m super impressed.”
He smiled.
I tuned out the music by lowering my own awareness of it and opened a playlist. “What do you enjoy listening to?”
Caldwell hesitated, then wrote a single word in the corner of the page.
Reggaeton.
“Really?”
He nodded.
“Any specific artist?”
He wrote again.
Daddy Yankee.
I searched for a playlist on my phone and put on a song at low volume, setting the phone between us.
Caldwell’s shoulders relaxed gradually.
The rhythm stayed contained within our small space, quiet enough that nobody else needed to hear. We took turns drawing in his sketchbook. Both of us drew wolves, then I drew a funeral home from
Nocturnal Hearts. Caldwell topped that with a drawing of Trevor wearing a crown made of glue guns.
Caldwell added detail after detail, and I followed his lead. We didn’t need conversation. He pointed when he wanted me to change something. I passed the pencil when he tapped the page.
After several songs, his breathing returned to normal.
You’re different, he wrote on a blank page.
My hand stopped. The words could mean anything. My hair. My age. My personality.
My species.
I looked at him. Caldwell watched me with open curiosity.
“Different from what you expected?”
He nodded.
I tried to smile. “Good different?”
He considered it, then drew a small thumbs-up.
Relief came so quickly that I nearly laughed. “Thank you, Caldwell.”
He leaned closer and added another figure beside Trevor. The figure had long blonde hair and held a cupcake.
Me.
My throat tightened. “Can I keep it?”
Caldwell tore the page from the sketchbook and handed it over.
I held it carefully. “Thanks.”
He reached out and touched the drawing of me. His dark eyes met mine, steady and surprisingly calm despite the music and chatter surrounding us.
“You can stay,” he said softly.
The words were barely louder than a whisper, delicate and hesitant, but they cut right through the noise of the crowd.
My chest constricted so hard I nearly forgot to breathe. Beside us, I saw Patty’s head snap toward us in subtle shock, though she quickly looked away to give him privacy.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and offered him the gentlest smile I could manage. “Thanks, Caldwell. I’d like that.”
He nodded once, satisfied, and turned to a fresh page to write out his final word: Friend.
We stayed there until Julie came over and crouched beside us. “Better?” she asked.
Caldwell nodded.
Julie touched his hair as she looked at me. “Thank you.”
“It’s no problem. We were discussing art.”
“I can see that.” She glanced at the drawing I was holding. “Is that a glue-gun crown?”
Caldwell smiled, which made Julie laugh.
Once the sun disappeared, the lights strung over the lawn gave the entire property a warm, inviting feel. People gathered around the fire pit to watch one of the cousins play guitar. Grandpa Alfonse fell asleep in his chair while still holding a fork.
I stood near the exit, rolling my shoulders to ease the tension that had settled there after hours of pure psychological warfare that no one else knew they were engaging in.
I turned to Patty. “I should get on the road,” I said, offering a tight, apologetic smile. “The exhaustion is finally catching up to me.”
Patty scoffed and crossed her arms. “Sloane, it’s almost eleven. You are absolutely not driving all the way back to the city tonight. Just crash at my place. I have an air mattress, a bottle of terrible wine, and a complete lack of early-morning responsibilities. It’s perfect.”
Before I could construct a polite refusal, the squeak of microphone feedback cut through the ambient chatter. Hilary stood near the stage, holding the mic with a confidence that told me she was used to commanding a room. The crowd went silent almost instantly.
“Listen up, everyone,” Hilary said, her voice carrying easily across the wooden rafters. A massive smile broke across her face. “It has been far too long since we’ve had this many generations under one roof. I am so incredibly happy to see all of you here tonight. And because the weather is perfect, I think there’s only one fitting way to end this reunion.” She gestured toward the double doors leading to the dark, expansive forest boundary. “The gates to the adjacent wildlife corridor are open. Everyone is invited to shed the day, shift, and run together. As a family.”
A loud roar of approval erupted from the cousins.
“And don’t worry about the littles,” Hilary added, chuckling. “Grandma Ruth and Grandpa Alfonse have graciously agreed to stay behind and look after them.”
My lungs completely locked up as if all the oxygen had been sucked out of the air.
Shift and run.
They were going to turn into wolves. Right now. They were going to rearrange their skeletal structures and sprint into the woods as a pack. If I stayed, my options were to either transform into an animal I didn’t possess or stand under the string lights in my standard human skin and explain that I was just a graphic designer who had a head for algebra.
Panic clawed at my throat. My heart battered violently against my ribs, and my vision swam. I needed an excuse. A sudden illness. An immediate emergency. A sudden case of spontaneous combustion. Anything to get me to my car before everyone started sprouting fur.
“Hey.” A low, calm voice sounded near my ear. I flinched slightly as Hudson materialized beside me. He wasn’t looking at the crowd. His gorgeous eyes were fixed entirely on my face, reading the sheer, unadulterated terror I was trying desperately to hide.
He leaned in closer, his tone dropping so it was meant for my ears alone. “You don’t have to join the run if it makes you uncomfortable. I know you’ve been away from pack life for several years. Nobody is going to judge you if you want to skip it.”
The relief that washed over me was so sudden and profound that my knees almost buckled. He had just handed me a golden ticket out of a supernatural exposure event. He thought I was just an aloof, disconnected pack member with a bit of trauma or social anxiety surrounding the wolf dynamic.
I was so intensely grateful to this man that a sudden, wild impulse flared up inside me. I wanted to reach out, grab his shirt, and kiss him right there in front of his entire, terrifying family.
My gaze dropped to his lips, my breath catching as my brain completely stalled on the thought. A second later, reality slammed back into place, and I felt a massive wave of heat flood my face, which I knew was turning my cheeks a bright, humiliating pink.
I cleared my throat quickly, looking up to meet his eyes. “Actually, it’s getting pretty late, and I have a bit of a drive ahead of me to get back to the city. I think it’s probably best if I just head on home now.”
Disappointment flitted across Hudson’s features, his broad shoulders dropping a fraction. But he nodded, a gentler, protective focus replacing the brief letdown as he met my eyes. “Yeah. Driving on those mountain roads at night isn’t a joke. Can I walk you to your car?”
I offered a genuine smile, the panic finally receding. “I’d really like that. Thank you.”
We stepped off the porch, leaving the chaotic energy behind. Gravel crunched softly beneath our shoes as we walked down the rows of parked trucks. The mountain air was crisp and cool, doing wonders to lower the temperature of my burning face.
Hudson shoved his hands into his pockets, looking down at his boots as we walked. “I’m really sorry we didn’t get more time to actually visit tonight,” he said, a note of genuine frustration in his voice. “Every single time I made a line toward you, you were either occupied with another pack member, or I’d get completely cornered by an uncle wanting to debate property lines or pack logistics.” He stopped beside my car and turned to face me, his green eyes locking onto mine. “But it was really nice to finally meet you in person, Sloane.”
An echo of his disappointment settled in my gut. I had spent the entire night dodging shifter landmines, but the few minutes I’d spent with him at the dinner table had been the only part of the evening where I felt truly grounded.
“I completely understand,” I murmured, leaning back against the car. “You’re everyone’s emergency contact. It comes with the territory. But I’m glad I came.”
He smiled, grabbing the handle of my car door and opening it for me with a slow, deliberate movement. He didn’t step back immediately, lingering in my personal space. “The weather reports are saying it’s supposed to stay clear and warm all next week,” he said, his voice dropping into that familiar, late-night rhythm from our texts. “We’re going to set up a projector next weekend for a casual movie night. Nothing formal. Just blankets, hay bales, and whatever food people bring. You should come down for it.”
A whole new swarm of butterflies took flight in my stomach. The logical, self-preserving part of my brain immediately began to scream. It was one thing to survive a crowded family reunion where the real Loany’s reputation for distance protected me. It was another thing entirely to attend a small, intimate movie night with direct conversation. The lie was getting more complicated by the second, and I felt a pang of guilt for pretending to be something I wasn’t.
I should’ve said no. I should’ve driven away and slowly faded out of the group chat.
I looked up at him, noting the thick waves of his jet-black hair in the moonlight and the quiet expectation in his eyes.
My apartment suddenly felt very cold and very far away.
A small, reckless smile broke across my face before I could stop it. “You know what?” I said, my heart hammering. “I think I’ll take you up on that offer.”
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