Dane
Iwoke up later than usual. There were no urgent pack or family events, so I decided to linger a little longer in bed.
After staring at the sunlight slipping through the curtains for half an hour and hearing the distant sound of something clattering in the kitchen downstairs, I decided to finally get up.
I dragged myself out of bed, hair sticking up in ways I didn’t care enough to fix. Before I even made it properly into the hallway, I picked up my phone off the nightstand.
Seth crossed my mind immediately. I unlocked my phone without really thinking about it, thumb hovering over his contact. For a second, I just stared at it.
A simple message would’ve been easy.
Morning.
Hope your shift’s okay today.
Have a good day.
Something like that, but my thumb paused. A small, inconvenient thought slid in. Was that weird?
We weren’t officially anything. The fake dating arrangement had technically already served its purpose. The wedding was over. There wasn’t a reason for constant check-ins anymore.
So sending a “good morning” text felt loaded in a way I couldn’t quite explain. It felt like I was assuming a closeness that might not exist outside my head.
My jaw tightened slightly. I stared at the screen a moment longer. Then I locked it again and set the phone back down.
“Right,” I muttered under my breath.
Probably better not. If Seth wanted to talk, he would.
That was what I told myself anyway as I finally headed downstairs, ignoring the faint, stubborn feeling in my chest that didn’t quite agree.
It then struck me that the house smelled like butter and sugar. That was suspicious.
When I stepped into the kitchen, I found my mom already in full production mode. Bowls were out, and there was flour everywhere.
She held a mixing spoon in one hand and smiled at me. I looked at an ambitious stack of pancakes already cooling on a plate on the counter.
There were way too many pancakes, I decided. I leaned against the counter and squinted at the setup.
“How many people are you expecting?” I asked.
She didn’t even look up. “Good morning to you too.”
“Morning,” I muttered. “Why are there enough pancakes here to feed a small army?”
“Levi and Mason are coming over.”
That explained everything and nothing at the same time. I sighed and pushed off the counter.
“Of course they are,” I grumbled.
My mom smiled like she’d planned this all along. “You can help.”
I didn’t argue. That was the thing with my mother. You didn’t really win debates with her. You just eventually accepted your role in whatever domestic operation she’d already mentally assigned you.
So I started flipping pancakes. It was mindless work, familiar and easy, and it helped me think less. Unfortunately, my brain had other plans.
Seth surfaced almost immediately, uninvited as usual.
I flipped another pancake and tried to ignore the way my thoughts kept drifting back to him. The last time I’d seen him properly. The way things had felt off since the wedding.
We hadn’t really talked much in the last two weeks, not properly at least. At first I’d told myself it made sense. He was busy with work. I was busy with pack stuff.
The wedding had been intense for both of us. A little space was normal. Heck, it was healthy, even. That was what I kept telling myself, but the truth was, I’d only been to the café once since then.
Once. That had felt wrong in a way I couldn’t easily explain, because I usually dropped by at least three times a week.
Seth had been there behind the counter like usual, pulling shots of espresso, talking to customers with that easy warmth that made people lean in without realizing it.
However when I’d walked in, something had shifted and I knew I didn’t imagine it. The conversation between us had been careful and shorter.
It felt like we were both standing on opposite sides of a line neither of us wanted to acknowledge. It felt like how we used to talk when I was just a customer, and Seth was just the barista.
Not someone I’d kissed on a beach, or held through the night. We acted like he wasn’t someone I’d started thinking about too much in quiet moments I didn’t used to have.
I didn’t like the distance, but I couldn’t entirely blame Seth for it either. Maybe I’d created it just as much or more. My wolf, annoyingly, hated the space between us.
It kept pacing in the back of my mind like it was waiting for something it couldn’t reach. I constantly reminded myself space was fine.
Space was normal, it would also give things room to settle.
Two weeks had passed since the wedding. Fourteen days since everything had blurred in ways I still hadn’t sorted out properly, and Seth still hadn’t reached out.
That fact sat in me more heavily than I wanted to admit. A part of me had expected something, a text or simple check-in maybe, something casual that let me know I wasn’t the only one still thinking about it.
Too bad there had been nothing. Which led my brain to the worst possible conclusion it liked to revisit at inconvenient times.
Maybe none of it had been real. The chemistry, the closeness, the way things had felt so natural between us perhaps that was just me projecting. My grip on the spatula tightened slightly.
No. That wasn’t true. I could still remember it too clearly.
The warmth of Seth’s body underneath me in bed. The way he had looked at me like I wasn’t temporary, and how his hand had felt in mine like it belonged there.
Dang it, but I was doing it again. Circling the same thought like it had teeth and I was stupid enough to keep feeding it.
“Dane?” My mom’s voice cut through the spiral.
I blinked and realized I’d been standing too long over a perfectly still pancake.
“Yeah?” I said quickly.
She studied me for a second, and it occured to me that she seemed far too observant for this early in the morning.
“How are things with Seth?” she asked lightly.
There it was. I tensed automatically. It was such a casual question, and she probably didn’t know it was a dangerous subject to me right now.
“They’re good,” I said too quickly.
My mom hummed like she wasn’t entirely convinced but didn’t push further. I forced myself to flip the pancake properly this time.
“He’s just been busy,” I added.
That part wasn’t entirely a lie, I just didn’t say the rest. That I’d also been avoiding the café more than I wanted to admit.
I didn’t tell her that every time I thought about going back, I hesitated.
I wasn’t sure what version of Seth I was going to get when I walked through the door, or what version of myself I’d be when I saw him again.
The front door opened then, saving me from whatever follow-up question was forming. Levi and Mason arrived together, already laughing about something I missed.
The atmosphere shifted immediately. My mom brightened. The kitchen filled with noise and movement and plates being set down and coffee being poured.
For a while, I was grateful for it. Breakfast became a blur of conversation I mostly didn’t follow. I answered when I had to, smiled when it made sense, and passed things across the table.
I let everyone else carry the energy. My mind stayed elsewhere. Eventually, I slipped outside with my coffee.
The yard was quieter, and cooler. I leaned against the railing and finally took a proper sip. A few seconds later, footsteps approached behind me. Levi.
He handed me another cup without asking.
I raised an eyebrow. “I already have one.”
“You look like you needed a refill,” he said.
I took the second cup anyway.
“Thanks,” I told him.
Levi leaned beside me against the railing. For a moment, neither of us spoke.
“You look miserable,” Levi finally commented.
I snorted. “How nice of you to notice.”
“So I’m right? Something bothering you?”
I took another sip instead of responding. Levi watched me for a second longer than necessary.
Then he said, “This about Seth?”
I nearly choked on my coffee. I turned my head slowly. “Not you too.”
He shrugged. “Mom asked me earlier.”
Of course she did.
“Did she put you up to this?” I demanded.
Levi didn’t even hesitate. “Maybe.”
I groaned.
He laughed lightly. “Relax. I’m not interrogating you.”
“Feels like it,” I mumbled.
“I’m just saying you’ve been off lately.”
That made me pause slightly.
“Off how?” I had to ask.
“Distracted,” he said. “More in your head than usual, and you don’t usually go this quiet about something unless you’re actively avoiding it.”
I looked away. That was annoyingly accurate. I took another sip of coffee before answering.
“It’s just been weird lately,” I admitted.
“With Seth?” Levi asked.
I hesitated, then nodded once.
“Yeah,” I finally admitted.
Levi studied me carefully.
“Did you do something?”
“No,” I said immediately, annoyed he immediately assumed I was the one at fault.
Then I stopped, because it struck me that the certainty wasn’t as strong as it should have been.
“I don’t think so,” I added more quietly.
Levi raised an eyebrow. “That’s not the same answer.”
I exhaled through my nose.
“We just had a lot happen at once. The wedding, everything before it. Things were intense. Now it’s just quiet,” I said.
Levi hummed.
“That doesn’t usually bother you.”
“It doesn’t bother me,” I said automatically.
He gave me a look that clearly said liar.
I sighed. “It’s just space,” I said. “That’s all. Probably good for both of us.”
Levi didn’t respond immediately.
Then he said, “Seth seemed good for you.”
That landed differently, because he was right. It felt different when I was laughing or talking with Seth. I felt strangely at home with him, completely comfortable and I never felt that with anyone else I dated before.
I frowned slightly.
“What does that mean?” I demanded nonetheless.
“It means what it means,” he said. “You were different around him.”
I didn’t answer. Levi pushed off the railing.
“Look,” Levi added more quietly, “you can overthink it all you want. But if you keep doing nothing, you might lose something good without even realizing you were holding it.”
That was all he said. He didn’t pressure or lecture me. Then he walked back inside, leaving me alone with my coffee and the sound of wind moving through the yard.
I stared down into the cup for a long moment.
Something good. The words lingered longer than I expected them to. Seth was certainly that. The worst part was, I wasn’t sure I disagreed.
Actually, if I was honest with myself, maybe I was the one responsible for putting this wedge between us. Perhaps I’d misread things.
Maybe I’d decided on “distance” like it was a clean solution instead of a slow undoing. My grip tightened slightly around the cup.
Now I was stuck in the space between not knowing what Seth felt and being too aware of what I felt. Which was, unfortunately, a problem.
I finished my coffee in a few long sips, but it didn’t really help clear anything. If anything, it made me more awake, more stuck in my own head. The obvious solution flickered in briefly.
Text Seth something simple. Something normal, literally anything that wasn’t me spiraling alone in my backyard like an idiot. My thumb hovered over my phone again.
I unlocked it. Seth’s name sat there like it always did. A second thought followed immediately after.
Maybe I should just go to the café. I could see him in person, reset things properly, so that would stop the silence stretch between us.
Then I pictured it walking in without warning.
Seth behind the counter wearing that careful expression again. That slight shift in how he spoke to me now, like we were both pretending not to notice something had changed.
I would be standing there with my head full of too many thoughts and not enough clarity. That would go badly, I could feel it.
I wasn’t in the right state of mind for subtlety right now, or for reading anything correctly. I exhaled sharply through my nose and locked the phone again.
“Yeah, no,” I muttered to myself.
A shout came from inside the house. My mom’s voice drifting through the open kitchen window.
“Dane! Do you want more coffee?”
I leaned my head back slightly toward the house.
“I think I ate too many pancakes,” I said instead of answering her question. “I’m gonna go for a run.”
There was a beat. Then my mom replied, amused, “You should wait for an hour at least before going running.”
“Nah, I feel like running now.”
“Be back in time for lunch!” She yelled back.
“No promises.”
I set the empty mug down on the outdoor table, and decided to commit to my run.
I stripped off my shirt first, then my shorts, folding them automatically out of habit. The air felt cooler against my skin now, but it didn’t help much.
The noise in my head was still there, still circling and refusing to settle.
I took a breath, and let the shift start. It came easily, like it always did. Bones and muscle reorganized themselves, fur sprouted all over my body.
My wolf stretched out fully as the last of human thought settled into the background. Even then, Seth didn’t leave my thoughts. That was annoying.
A low huff left me as I shook out my fur, testing my footing against the grass. I bolted toward the trees behind the house.
The forest opened up quickly, familiar paths threading between tall trunks and shifting light. I ran hard at first, pushing speed into my legs, letting instinct take over where thinking had been getting in the way.
Wind rushed through my fur, and ground blurred beneath me. For a few minutes, it helped. The rhythm of movement. The pull of muscles. The sharp focus of trail and scent and distance.
There was nothing to analyze, or decide. Only the run mattered, but even as my pace evened out, the problem stayed. Seth was still there.
I tried to push harder with longer strides and faster bursts.
The forest opened into a wider stretch and I sprinted through it, letting the burn in my limbs take over, hoping it would drown out everything else.
It didn’t. Every time my mind went quiet for half a second, it filled itself right back up with him.
I pictured Seth laughing at something in the café, Seth looking at me across a table like I was something he was still figuring out. I imagined Seth asleep against my chest.
I slowed eventually, breath heavier now, coming to a stop near a break in the trees where sunlight spilled down in wide, lazy patches. My chest rose and fell steadily.
I stood there for a long moment, listening, and waiting for the run to fix something.
The silence around me only made my thoughts louder again. I exhaled slowly through my nose, lowering my head slightly. I’d come out here thinking I needed space from Seth.
What I was starting to realize, standing alone in the forest with my wolf finally quiet enough to admit it, was that space wasn’t the problem.
Distance wasn’t the solution, and pretending I didn’t want something more between us wasn’t clearing my head. It was just making everything harder to ignore.