Chapter 16 Zack
ZACK
Iwas running through the town hall. I was late. Again.
My boots echoed against the polished floor as I cut down the corridor, skidding slightly around a corner and barely avoiding a collision with a startled pack member.
I muttered a quick apology and kept going. Outside the town hall, Cathy sat at her usual table, flipping through something on her tablet.
“Don’t run,” she said without looking up. “You’re late, not dying.”
I grinned, slowing to a walk as I reached for the door.
Inside, the pack meeting was already in progress. I scanned the crowd and my gaze landed instantly on the familiar line of a back, dark brown hair curling just slightly at the nape of his neck.
I didn’t need him to turn around to know it was Mark. I made my way down the row and slid into the empty seat beside him.
He smiled when he saw me, tugging his jacket off the chair he’d been saving on purpose.
“What did I miss?” I whispered.
He leaned closer. “Mostly the bridge construction.”
I fished a small packet of chips out of my bag, tearing it open quietly and nudging it toward him. He took a handful without hesitation, popping a couple into his mouth at once.
“That’s still not over?” I murmured.
Mark shook his head, chewing. “Apparently not.”
I glanced around, trying to gauge if I’d missed anything important, but Cooper was deep into an update about converting an old building at the far end of the compound into a new training facility for the pack’s future K9 unit.
I nodded along politely, though my mind was already wandering to other questions.
“Oh,” I said suddenly, lowering my voice again. “Did you ever hear back from the couple about the wedding set?”
Mark nodded easily. “Confirmed yesterday.”
“And the song list changes?” I asked.
“Already sent.”
I paused. “And the deposit?”
“Received.”
I leaned back in my chair, exhaling a quiet laugh as I popped another chip into my mouth. Of course he had.
Since New Year’s Eve, things had snowballed.
A kids’ birthday party first. Then a retirement party. Then a wedding. What had started as a fun side thing had turned into a steady stream of small gigs.
Enough that we were juggling schedules now, fitting performances in around our actual jobs. Part of me wondered how long we could keep it up.
I still wanted to focus more on writing my own music. But gigs meant money, and money mattered, especially when we were deliberately saving for our own wedding.
I nudged Mark’s knee lightly with mine. “Thanks.”
Mark reached over and took my hand, his fingers threading through mine like he knew exactly where my thoughts had wandered.
“Hey,” he said quietly. “Things are a little crazy right now, and who knows when we’ll get a run like this again.” He gave my hand a small squeeze. “But we’ve got this, so let’s just enjoy it while it lasts.”
I turned toward him. “And if we don’t?”
He actually paused at that, gaze drifting toward the front of the room as if he were genuinely considering it. Then he huffed a soft laugh.
“Then we downgrade the honeymoon,” he said. “From a backpacking trip through Asia to, I don’t know. A beach somewhere closer.”
I blinked, caught off guard by how easily he said it.
“You know,” I said slowly, “I might surprise you by saying I wouldn’t mind that.”
He glanced at me, amused.
“With all the constant Caribbean request nights we still get,” I went on, “and this weather, I kind of see the appeal of a warm beach now.”
Mark’s smile turned thoughtful. “Maybe with fruit smoothies.”
“Mmm,” I said, reaching back into my bag for another chip. “Pineapple.”
“Mango for me.”
I frowned playfully. “Really? I thought you’d be more of a—”
Cooper cleared his throat.
“Before I move on to an important announcement,” he said evenly, “I’d like to remind everyone that food isn’t allowed in this hall.” His gaze swept the room. “But if you absolutely must eat, please do so discreetly.”
I froze. Slowly, I folded the packet closed and shoved it back into my bag. A glance around the room told me I wasn’t alone, several people were doing the same.
One guy didn’t even bother hiding his burger.
Cooper spoke again.
“Regarding the winter festival. It went smoothly, and that’s thanks to the pack and the town working together. It shows trust, and it shows we can move forward as a community.”
He continued, “After months of discussion with the town council, we’ve agreed on some updates in the town policy. There will be more flexibility, clearer guidelines, and fewer restrictions on pack matters within town limits. This should make things easier for everyone.”
The room murmured, excitement mixing with cautious relief.
I let Cooper’s voice drift into the background. Mark’s hand found mine, thumb brushing gentle circles over my knuckles.
I leaned into him, shoulder to shoulder, and he leaned back just enough to rest his head against mine. Three months had passed since New Year’s, but the memory still hummed under my skin.
The music, the crowd, the way everything had felt possible. The hum of voices and shuffling chairs blended into a steady lull.
Cooper moved on to budget lines and volunteer rotations, words stacking neatly on top of one another until they softened into background noise.
I shifted, meaning to sit up straighter, but the warmth at my side anchored me. Mark’s shoulder fit like it always did. Familiar and solid.
At some point my eyelids stopped arguing with me.
I drifted without fully noticing it, the room tilting gently as if I were on a train and not a folding chair.
The last thing I registered was Mark’s thumb still tracing those slow, patient circles over my knuckles.
When I surfaced again, it was to the faintest brush of movement. A hand at my arm and a quiet breath near my ear.
“Hey,” Mark murmured. “Zack.”
I made a sound that probably counted as a word in my head but nowhere else. My cheek was pressed to his shoulder. Apparently I had decided this was the correct place for it.
“We’re done,” he said softly. “Time to head home.”
Home. The word slipped straight through me, warm and easy. Our apartment.
The narrow hallway that always smelled faintly like his coffee. The couch that sagged in the middle because neither of us would admit it needed replacing.
I blinked, forcing my eyes open. The hall was mostly empty now, chairs scraping as people filtered out. I straightened, embarrassed heat creeping up my neck.
“Sorry,” I muttered. “I didn’t mean to—”
Mark smiled, gentle and unbothered. “You’ve worked hard this week. You’re allowed.”
I leaned in again without thinking, just for a second, my forehead bumping his shoulder this time.
“I love you,” I mumbled, the words slipping out half asleep and unguarded.
For a beat, his expression softened in that way that always made my chest ache in the best possible way.
“I love you too,” he said, like it was the simplest fact in the room.
He brushed his thumb along my jaw, tipping my face up just enough to kiss me. It was brief and quiet and ours.
We gathered our things and slipped out together, fingers lacing automatically as the cool night air met us outside.
THE END