Dane (Pecan Pines #12)

Dane

The grill hissed. I leaned over it, tongs in hand, squinting at a row of burgers that were somewhere between “perfectly charred” and “too burned”.

The air smelled like smoke, spice, and a little bit of victory. For the moment, I had the backyard to myself. My brothers and their mates weren’t here yet, so chaos was absent.

It was only me, a cold drink sweating on the patio table, and the steady, reassuring sizzle of meat doing its thing.

It was really nice, like the universe had taken a wrong turn and accidentally given me peace and quiet.

Inside, I could hear my parents moving around the kitchen. Cabinets opened, plates clinked, my mom’s voice drifted in and out. I wasn’t trying to listen, I really wasn’t.

But my ears didn’t come with an off switch.

“How’s Dane doing? Seeing anyone?”

I froze mid-flip. That was my dad. Were they aware I could hear them just fine, while they gossiped about my love life, or lack of it?

“No, he’s still single,” my mom answered calm as ever.

Maybe she sounded a little too calm. How suspicious. I flipped the burger a little too aggressively. It landed with a smack that felt personal.

“What about that guy he was seeing? Tom? Frank?”

I stared at the grill like it might offer me an escape route. Tom, well it was probably Tom. Close enough, Dad.

“According to Dane, Tom didn’t work out.”

That was one way to put it. Another way involved the words “commitment issues” and “mysterious allergy to texting back.”

“He should start thinking about his future more seriously. In this pack and his future mate.”

I shut the grill lid with more force than necessary. The clang echoed across the yard, but it didn’t drown them out.

“I’m planning to talk to him later. Try to set him up with Linda’s nephew Ron.”

I closed my eyes. There it was. The ambush.

Ron, or Ronnie as most of my pack mates call him. Ron only talked about two things.

His great job with a big accounting firm, and his great passion…searching for the best artisanal beer.

I exhaled slowly and leaned my forearms against the grill, staring at the faint curl of smoke slipping into the air.

Focus on the burners and not burning them, I reminded myself, not the impending doom of maternal matchmaking. It wasn’t like I hadn’t tried.

I dated. I went out, and gave people a fair shot. Sometimes even a second one, which was generous, considering my attention span for bad dates had the lifespan of a mayfly.

But finding the right one? Yeah, that was still pending.

Meanwhile, Devon had packed up his life and moved to Thornebane territory to be with Carter, although he frequently visited us to appease mom.

Mark had Zack, which made him insufferably cheerful. Chris and Jaime… well, they had each other and a tiny dog, which somehow made them even worse.

Then there was Levi and Mason, who were newly mated.

That left me, the last unmated brother, and the family’s loose thread. My mom had decided that was unacceptable. The gate creaked.

“Hey, brother! Something smells good!”

I turned, already grinning despite myself. Mark strolled in like he owned the place, Zack at his side, both of them looking annoyingly put-together.

Mark gave me a wave like we hadn’t seen each other in years instead of three days.

“Timing’s perfect,” I said. “Another five minutes and these would be done.”

Mark wandered over, peering at the grill.

“You say that like you haven’t served us burnt charcoal patties,” Mark pointed out.

“That was one time,” I argued.

“It was two,” Mark said.

I rolled my eyes. Zack had already peeled off toward the house, drawn by the sound of voices and, probably, my mom’s cooking. Traitor.

A moment later, more voices joined the mix, followed by a sharp, enthusiastic bark.

“Yep,” I said. “That’ll be Chris.”

“And Pampi,” Mark added.

We both glanced toward the back door just in time to see Chris step out, Jaime right behind him, and Pampi.

The tiny, fluffy papillon seemed to be entirely convinced she was a wolf. A tiny wolf tucked in Chris’s arms like royalty.

Zack crouched immediately, making a series of noises I had never heard a grown man make before. “Who’s a good girl? Who’s the prettiest little girl?”

Pampi accepted the praise like it was her due.

“You’re going to burn that burger,” Mark said, nudging my arm.

I looked down. Right, I nearly forgot I was cooking. I flipped it just in time, rescuing it from a fiery demise.

“Want me to take over?” Mark offered, already reaching for the tongs.

I considered it for half a second, then surrendered.

“Sure. If anything catches fire, I’m blaming you,”I told him.

“That would never happen. I’m an expert grill master,” Mark said with a laugh.

I grabbed two beers from the cooler and tossed one to him.

The caps hissed off, and for a second, everything felt easy and familiar again. It was the kind of moment that didn’t ask for anything except that you be there.

Chris wandered over, still holding Pampi like a prized possession.

“Too bad Levi and Mason are on a trip. And Devon and Carter can’t come either,” he said, nodding toward the empty spaces at the table.

“Devon and Carter are probably buried in pack stuff,” I said. “Carter always seems to be putting out one fire or another.

“Still,” Chris said, taking the beer I offered. “Would’ve been nice to have the entire family here.”

“Next time,” I said.

He took a sip, then gave me a look. The kind that meant trouble.

“Which reminds me… Mom seems pretty set on pairing you with Linda’s nephew. Ronnie.”

I groaned. “You heard that too?”

“Hard not to,” he said. “She said it like she was announcing a holiday.”

“Thanks for the warning, bro,” I muttered.

“This would be, what, the fourth blind date?” Mark asked, flipping a burger with unnecessary flair.

“Fifth,” I said dryly.

“Fifth,” he repeated, impressed. “You get a loyalty card for that? One more and you get a free coffee?”

“Don’t joke,” I said. “She’ll hear you and make it real.”

“Why don’t you just refuse?” Mark asked.

Chris snorted. “Because it’s Mom.”

Mark opened his mouth, then paused. “…Yeah, okay. Fair.”

Exactly. Saying no to my mother wasn’t impossible.

It just required a level of courage I generally reserved for things like running into a burning building or telling my dad his cooking needed salt.

Eventually, the food was ready, and we all migrated to the table like a herd with a singular purpose, eat everything before someone else did.

The conversation bounced around, easy and loud. We discussed pack news, then talked about our respective work.

Zack and Mark brought up their latest song. Chris argued with Jaime about whether Pampi needed a tiny sweater.

“She gets cold,” Chris insisted.

“She has fur,” Jaime said.

“She’s so small,” Chris said.

Pampi barked, which we all agreed settled nothing.

I did my best to stay in motion, talking, laughing, and offering to refill drinks. Anything that made me look busy enough to avoid a one-on-one conversation with my mother.

For a while, it worked. Then the universe remembered I’d been having a decent day.

I escaped to the kitchen under the noble pretense of helping with dishes. The dishwasher had was broken, so I rolled up my sleeves and started scrubbing.

Soap, water, and blissful silence. It lasted exactly thirty seconds.

“There you are. Finally got you alone.”

I closed my eyes for a brief, silent prayer. Then I turned, holding up a soapy finger like a shield.

“I know what you’re going to say,” I told her.

My mom leaned against the counter, smiling like she had all the time in the world. Which, to be fair, she did.

“You want me to go out with Ron Marshall,” I said.

“According to Linda, Ron’s a nice boy,” she said, as if that settled it. “Good looking, too.”

“I’m sure he is,” I said. “Statistically, most people are nice.”

“Who knows? You two might have something in common.”

I rinsed a plate, buying time.

“Mom, I’ll be thirty-five this year. I can find my own dates.”

My inner wolf, traitor that he was, chose that moment to stir. He wasn’t disagreeing exactly, but he was certainly skeptical.

Oh, sure, my wolf seemed to say, you’re doing a great job so far.

“I’m just saying, you don’t have to be alone” my mom went on, “it would be nice if you settled down like your brothers.”

“I’m not alone,” I said. “I have you, and Dad. And my very annoying brothers and their mates.”

“Mm,” she said. “You also have a history of one-night stands and hookups.”

I gasped, clutching a dish towel to my chest.

“I am shocked, appalled even. Where would you even hear such things?”

“Dane,” she warned.

“Okay, fine,” I said, grinning. “Maybe a few.”

“A few,” she echoed.

“It’s a phase,” I told her.

“At thirty-four?”

Now why did she have to bring up my age?

“It’s a long phase,” I told her.

She shook her head, but there was a smile tugging at her mouth.

“It’s just one date,” she said. “Not even dinner. What about coffee?”

Coffee, the gateway beverage. I scrubbed at a stubborn spot on a pan, considering my options. Refuse outright and I would face her disappointment.

I could simply agree, but that would mean enduring an hour of polite conversation with a stranger who might or might not think I was charming.

“I’ll think about it,” I said finally.

Her face lit up like I’d just agreed to name my firstborn after her.

“That’s all I ask,” she said, patting my shoulder. “Just think about it.”

She left the kitchen, satisfied. I stood there for a moment, staring at the sink like it had personally betrayed me.

“I’ll think about it,” I muttered under my breath.

I grabbed another dish and got back to work.

Out in the yard, someone laughed. Pampi barked. Mark shouted something about not burning the last batch. The house felt full, and warm.

And then, all at once, it felt too crowded and warm. It was as if the air had thickened without asking my permission.

I slowed, hands still moving through the motions of rinsing and scrubbing, but my head wasn’t in the kitchen anymore.

It wandered, straight into a future I hadn’t agreed to picture. I was in the same yard and house, grilling burgers, only I was older.

Mark at the table, laughing, Zack beside him, their kids were running circles around the chairs. Chris and Jaime arguing about something small and ridiculous while Pampi, somehow still alive out of pure stubbornness, yapped at their heels.

Devon and Carter visiting when they could, bringing their own chaos with them. Everyone paired off, rooted, and me? I was still there, smiling and alone.

I blinked, hard. The kitchen suddenly felt smaller, and the walls closer. The sound of laughter from outside pressed in, loud and bright and a little too sharp around the edges.

I set the plate down, water still running.

“Yeah,” I muttered to no one. “Nope.”

My chest tightened, breath going shallow in a way I didn’t appreciate. It wasn’t panic exactly, but something close enough to be annoying.

Pressure built behind my ribs like I’d stood too long in a crowded room with no exit. I grabbed a towel, dried my hands too quickly, then ditched it on the counter.

I needed air. Space. A few minutes where no one was looking at me like I was a project that needed fixing. Preferably at my cabin, except that wasn’t an option right now.

The cabin was still under renovation, half-finished and temporarily not livable.

That meant I was currently “enjoying” the privilege of staying at my parents’ house until further notice. Honestly, I was starting to miss the chaos of my own unfinished walls.

I stepped out of the kitchen and into the living room, already raising my voice.

“We’ve run out of beer. I’m heading out!”

It was an extremely flimsy excuse. We definitely had more beer, but thankfully no one called me on it, or maybe they did and I just didn’t stick around to hear it.

I was already out the door, down the steps, across the yard. Gravel crunched under my boots as I made a beeline for my truck like.

Behind me, the noise continued. More laughter and voices, life going on without missing a beat.

I slid into the driver’s seat, shut the door, and for a second merely sat there, with my hands on the wheel and the engine still off. I breathed and out.

The quiet inside the cab wrapped around me. My wolf settled a little, though it still hummed under my skin, restless in a way I couldn’t quite pin down.

“Yeah, yeah,” I muttered. “We’re going.”

I started the engine. The truck rumbled to life, steady and familiar, and I backed out of the driveway without looking back.

Out past the house. Past the trees that marked the edge of our land. Past the invisible line that separated pack territory from the rest of the world.

The farther I drove, the easier it got to breathe.

By the time I hit the road into town, my shoulders had dropped a good inch, tension bleeding out of me in slow, reluctant waves.

I rolled the window down, letting the wind cut through the lingering scent of smoke and grilled meat clinging to my shirt.

Town wasn’t far. Streetlights flickered on as the sky dipped toward evening, casting everything in that soft, in-between glow.

People moved along sidewalks, unbothered, wrapped up in their own lives. No one cared who I was here, and no one expected anything from me. It was nice.

There was one place I always ended up when I needed some quiet.

I turned onto the familiar street and pulled into a spot just down from the café, engine idling for a second before I killed it.

Through the window, I could see the warm light spilling out onto the sidewalk.

The steady movement behind the counter. The small crowd of regulars scattered at tables, laptops open, conversations low. And there he was, right behind the counter.

My favorite human barista. Seth.