Dane #2
The café had filled up while we were talking. More people had come in, more noise, the low hum of conversation rising.
At the door, I paused for a second, then I glanced back. Seth looked up at the same time, like he’d felt it. Our eyes met across the room.
And because apparently I had lost all sense of self-preservation somewhere between the hand-grabbing and the agreeing-too-fast, I winked.
I actually winked at him. His expression went completely blank. Seth seemed stumped, completely frozen, as if his brain had just hit a loading screen.
I immediately regretted the silly winking.
“Yep,” I muttered to myself, pushing the door open. “That was foolish.”
I stepped out into the evening air, letting the door swing shut behind me before I could do anything else questionable. The walk back to my truck felt longer than it should’ve.
I unlocked it, climbed in, and sat there for a moment, hands resting on the wheel.
“Well,” I said. My wolf hummed, deeply satisfied. “Don’t start.”
I leaned my head back against the seat and stared up at the ceiling. Why had I said yes? Because Seth was attractive? That was part of it apparently.
Because I liked the way he looked when he got flustered? Also not helping my case.
Or because my mom’s voice was still echoing in my head, talking about futures and mates and not ending up alone while everyone else moved on without me?
That one hit a little closer.
I exhaled slowly. “Doesn’t matter,” I said.
I pushed the key into the ignition and started the truck. It didn’t matter why I’d said yes.
By the time I turned the truck back toward the pack compound, the road felt shorter. Or maybe my head was just too busy to notice the distance.
Streetlights slid past in a steady rhythm, but I barely registered them. My thoughts kept looping back to the same place and person. Seth.
I tightened my grip on the steering wheel, then loosened it again.
“Get a grip,” I muttered.
My wolf did not get a grip. My wolf replayed the entire scene like it was a highlight reel.
Seth’s voice when he said pretend date.
The flush in his cheeks. The way his eyes had gone wide when I said yes, and, because apparently I had no self-preservation instincts left, the wink.
I groaned. “Why did we do that?”
My wolf, deeply unhelpful, seemed to think it had been a brilliant move.
I pulled into the driveway a few minutes later, the familiar shape of the house coming into view under the soft spill of porch light.
The yard was quieter now. There was no loud bursts of laughter, no arguing over food, no tiny dog declaring war on the universe.
I cut the engine and sat there for a second, letting the quiet settle.
Then I grabbed the leftover six-pack I’d actually remembered to pick up. The back gate creaked as I pushed it open.
“Look who decided to come back,” Mark called from the patio, already grinning.
“Beer run successful?” Chris added.
I held up the pack. “I bring offerings.”
They were all gathered near the table, plates stacked, chairs pushed in halfway.
Zack was saying something to my dad, Jaime was trying to wrangle Pampi into a tiny leash that the dog clearly resented.
Mark was watching me with the kind of interest that meant he was about to ask questions I didn’t want to answer.
“So,” he said, strolling over. “Emergency beer situation, huh?”
“That’s right,” I said.
“Mm,” he said, unconvinced. “You look weirdly pleased for a guy who just went on a supply run.”
“I always look like this,” I argued.
“No, you don’t.”
I ignored him and handed off the beers. My mom had stepped out onto the patio, drying her hands on a towel.
“Oh good, you’re back,” she said, eyeing the beers but not commenting on the timing. “We were just wrapping up.”
People started shifting into goodbye mode. There were hugs, half-finished conversations, promises to meet again soon.
Zack kissed Mark on the cheek. Chris slung an arm around Jaime’s shoulders. Pampi barked at absolutely nothing, just to stay relevant.
I hovered at the edges, helping where I could, handing off containers, stacking chairs. Eventually, the yard emptied out.
Cars pulled away one by one until it was just me, my parents, and the aftermath of a successful barbecue. My mom looked around, assessing the damage.
“Dane, can you help clean up?” she asked.
“Yeah,” I said. “Of course.”
We moved into the kitchen together, falling into an easy rhythm. For a while, we worked in comfortable silence. Which, with my mom, never lasted long.
“I hope you know,” she said finally, not looking at me, “I only push because I care.”
There it was. I glanced over at her. She was focused on a plate, scrubbing a spot that didn’t seem particularly stubborn.
“I know,” I said.
She nodded, like she’d expected that answer but needed to hear it anyway.
“I just want you to be happy,” she added. “To have someone. Someone who looks out for you. Who you can come home to.”
I leaned against the counter, drying my hands.
“I get that,” I said. “Really, I do.”
And I did. Under all the matchmaking schemes and questionable blind dates, it came from a place that was good.
“I just,” I hesitated, searching for the right words. “I need to figure that out on my own.”
She finally looked at me then.
“I’m not saying I don’t want that,” I went on. “The whole someone thing. I just don’t think being set up with Linda’s nephew is the way it’s going to happen.”
A corner of her mouth twitched. “You haven’t even given Ron a chance.”
“Ron’s probably very nice. That’s not the issue.”
“The issue is?” she asked.
“I want it to be my choice,” I said simply.
She studied me for a moment, really looked, like she was trying to decide if this was one of my usual deflections or something more solid.
“And if your choice takes a long time?” she asked.
I thought about the empty yard earlier. About that imagined future that had pressed in too close. Then I thought about a pair of warm brown eyes going wide across a café table.
“I’m okay with that,” I said.
She sighed, setting the plate down.
“You’re stubborn,” she said.
“Runs in the family,” I reminded her.
She huffed a quiet laugh.
“So,” she said, crossing her arms. “You’re asking me to stop trying to set you up?”
“I’m asking you to pause,” I said carefully. “Give me a chance to handle it myself.”
She narrowed her eyes slightly. “And you will handle it?”
“Actually… I’ve got a date.” The words hung in the air.
My mom blinked.
“You have a date,” she repeated, and I nodded. “When?”
“Soon,” I told her.
“With who?”
I picked up a dish towel and busied myself with a glass that was already dry. “It’s someone.”
“Dane,” she said.
“I’m serious,” I said, glancing at her. “I do.”
Her expression shifted, curiosity lighting up like a switch. “Do I know him?”
“Nope.”
“Is he from the pack?”
“Nope,” I answered, wishing I hadn’t mentioned it at all.
“Work?”
“No,” I said.
“Then where did you—”
“It’s a secret,” I said, cutting her off before she could build a full investigative profile.
She stared at me, but I held my ground.
“A secret,” she repeated slowly.
“Yep.”
She turned back to the sink, but there was a lightness in her shoulders that hadn’t been there earlier.
We finished the rest of the cleanup without any more interrogation, which felt like a small victory.
Later, when everything was put away and the house had settled into that post-gathering quiet, I stepped back out onto the patio.
The grill had gone cold, the chairs were stacked, and the yard looked normal again. I leaned against the railing, pulling my phone out of my pocket.
I stared at Seth’s name for a second, thumb hovering over the screen.
“Text me the details,” I’d said.
I typed out a message before I could overthink it.
Dane: Hey. It’s Dane.
I stared at it for a beat, then hit send.