Page 33 of A Pack for the Wedding
"Washington?" Knox asks softly. "Why?"
"Some relatives I can stay with for a while," I say, scooting an inch back from the ledge and pulling my knees tightly against my chest.
On the far right, Mason suddenly shifts his weight and look at me. "Wait," he says, his deep voice slicing through the quiet. "You're actually thinking about leaving?"
"I mean, I'm incredibly grateful to have Maren, Harper, and Luna here. And my shop, for that matter. But..." I trail off, searching for the right words. "The problem is, I feel like I just sorta ended up here. And I can't tell if I'm staying out of resilience or inertia."
Mason lets out a rough, heavy breath. He looks out in the distance, his jaw set.
"Grant is an idiot," he rumbles.
My head snaps toward him.
"I'm serious." Mason leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees. "I know you moved here for him and he repaid you by—" He stops himself, shaking his head. "He's an idiot."
"You should put that quote on a throw pillow," I say.
The corner of his mouth twitches. Not quite a smile, but close.
"You belong here as much as anyone, you know," Knox says beside me. "And practically speaking, if you bolt, we're back to being Lakeview's rejects." A quick smile touches his lips before his expression sobers. "More seriously though, you'd be leaving a place you like, and that doesn't feel like a win."
Arthur leans back on his hands, watching me. "Here's what I'm thinking. You spent a year living inside Grant's version of Lakeview. And no offense, but that version sounded pretty bleak. So it's not exactly shocking that you're thinking about leaving."
I narrow my eyes at him. "Are you about to pitch me on something?"
"I'm about to offer a counter-proposal," he says, spreading his hands like a man unveiling a modest miracle. "Before you pack up for Washington, let us show you the real Lakeview. The spots that have made plenty of city transplants fall in love with this place and never look back."
"Like this?" I gesture at the overgrown drive-in.
"This is a start." He grins. "But there's more. Give us until Ben's wedding. That's enough time to either make you fall head over heels for this town all over again—" He pauses. "Or give you every justification you need to actually leave. Either way, you'll know you gave it a real shot."
"So you want to make this a regular thing," I say. "You three showing me around?"
Knox leans in. His hazel eyes catch the moonlight, steady and entirely serious. "Doesn't it seem like a great way to spend your time?"
I look out at the silver reflection of the lake in the distance, trying to figure out why the idea makes something flutter and tighten in my chest at the same time. The last time I made plans that stretched across months, they were with Grant. Talking about the trips we'd take, the life we'd build... and I know exactly how those turned out.
But these three aren't Grant.
"Okay," I say. "We're pretending to be a pack anyway. Might as well commit to the bit and go on some actual dates to the town's best-kept secrets."
Arthur's whole face lights up. Knox gives a single, satisfied nod, like a deal has been closed. Even Mason's aura seems lit by a sudden satisfaction.
"And to think we had a whole pragmatic talk about what we'd do in case you bolted," Arthur says, taking another pull from the flask.
I chuckle. "You did?"
"It was mostly just Knox worrying we'd instantly revert to social ruin," Arthur teases. "But honestly? Hearing you open up your heart like that and all... the whole 'social ruin' threat feels kinda trivial."
Mason, who has been quietly turning a loose chip of tar paper over in his hands at the end of the line, finally flicks it off the edge of the roof. "Yeah, things will go how they go," he rumbles, his voice casual.
Then the air shifts. A sharp gust of wind sweeps out from behind us, whistling over the roof. Since my back is completely exposed to the open air, the wind cuts right through my thin layer of clothes, making me shiver.
Mason stands up from his spot on the ledge without a word. For a second, I think he might say it's time to head back. Instead, he steps behind me and lowers himself, sitting so close I can feel the phantom heat of his spine radiating against mine. We aren't touching, but his broad frame instantly eclipses the biting wind, replacing it with a wave of radiating body heat and the smell of... cedar?
Suddenly, my skin flushes hot. I have the sudden urge to lean my head back against his shoulder and justinhale, which is highly confusing.
"Thanks," I manage to say instead, in a voice that I hope sounds normal.
