Chapter 6 - Dina
I’m really not sure why I agreed to this; it’s not like I’m contractually obliged to be here.
Caleb could look after Alora on his own at the pack BBQ.
I know I’m not technically required. But he asked me in front of Skylar and Fern when I’d arranged to meet him with Alora at the clinic after his patrol for her check-up—there was a buzz about finding out her lineage; they were excited to show him her blood workup and how strong her shifter markers are. Her mom must have been a shifter, too.
It seems strange that he can’t even remember, or maybe didn’t care to find out, and I know whenever she’s mentioned, he tries to brush it off, but I see through it.
He’s ashamed. It’s not an emotion I ever thought I’d see him wear.
He’s always so full of bravado and charm, but the embarrassment over Alora’s mom clings to him.
I’m not even sure other people notice, but I do.
On hearing she’s a full shifter, he’d scooped her up and made her chuckle. Something she’s only just started doing. Everyone smiled as he looked at his daughter, his face full of love. I had to look away.
How he is with Alora is so at odds with how I want to picture him; it jars me every time I see it. So I try not to look. Just because she gets this version of him doesn’t mean it’s true in the rest of his life. It doesn’t mean he deserves the life he’s getting to live in Silvercreek.
It amazes me how quickly people have forgiven and forgotten his role in Cheslem.
But I know none of that is Alora’s fault, and the job is going better than I imagined.
Sometimes I even forget how much his presence keeps my wolf on edge, or how the way his easy charm grates.
That must be why I agreed to come to the BBQ; I was swept up in everyone’s excitement over her results at the clinic and talk of celebrating at the pack gathering this weekend.
Next thing I knew, Caleb had offered to pick me up on the way, and Skylar practically agreed for me.
Now, I’ve been riding in his truck in awkward silence for ten minutes, the only conversation is about Alora and her latest milestone, and I’m just grateful when the BBQ set up by the river comes into view.
Next to me, I hear Caleb let out a long breath and wonder if he’s glad this is nearly over, too.
Dealing with his proximity might not be so bad if he weren’t so irritatingly attractive; his large frame dominates the truck and makes it almost impossible to ignore him.
I purposely try not to glance in his direction, deliberately ignoring his sexy stubble and the way his flannel fits so snug over his muscles.
I will not care or notice that he makes my stomach flip, because my heart is completely hard to him. That is what I tell myself as we pull up, and I mutter a quick thanks for the lift.
“Not a problem,” he smiles easily, “if you want to take Alora, I’ll carry your cooler over too.”
I nod and unbuckle Alora from her seat, feeling her soft weight settle against my arm.
"I've got her," I say, careful to tuck a loose wisp of my hair behind her ear before she can grab it. My old habit of silence and efficiency is hard to kill, but I try to add a smile when Caleb glances my way. No sense giving him more fuel for his theory that I hate him. Not that he’d be wrong.
I head for the riverbank, following the scent of smoke and grilled meat.
Beyond the first row of pines, the whole pack seems to have gathered with kids darting around playing, adults setting up folding chairs and coolers, and the inevitable group of elders clustered around the fire, talking shit about the young guys who are apparently messing up the grill.
For the first time in a while, the sound and bustle don’t set off alarms in my chest. Maybe it’s because Alora is pressed against me, like a trusting weight against my heart, or maybe it’s just that I’ve missed this.
Even if it’s only a shadow of what the old days used to be like with my pack.
Caleb falls into step beside me, cooler thumping at his knee. He doesn’t say anything, but I catch him glancing at me every few steps, like he’s expecting me to run. I keep walking, and when I spot Skylar and Fern waving from a picnic table, I head that way.
"You made it," Skylar calls, like she’s genuinely surprised. Maybe she expected me to bail, and maybe I did, too. She’s got her mate’s little girl on her lap, and the child’s face is smeared with chocolate ice cream.
Fern grins, eyes landing on Alora, and immediately reaches for her.
I hesitate a beat, then let Fern take her.
"She looks more like you every day," Fern calls over to Caleb, but then she leans in toward me, her voice soft enough that only I can hear. "But she’ll be her own wolf. You’ll see."
I look away, unsure what to do with that.
The need to keep moving is strong, so I busy myself helping Skylar arrange the food, stacking paper plates, and lining up bottles of soda.
The first few minutes are a blur of introductions and small talk, most of which I deflect with nods and one-word answers.
People here are friendly, painfully friendly, and it’s not long before I’ve got a plate forced into my hands and a plastic cup of punch that tastes suspiciously like shifter alcohol.
Caleb is swallowed up by the men standing to the side.
I see him standing with Thomas and Bryan, all three of them laughing over a story.
His whole posture is loose, easy. He’s more at home here than he ever was in Cheslem, and I want to resent him for it because just the thought of Cheslem makes me burn inside.
With Alora out of my arms, I feel lighter and more exposed all at once.
I drift away from the main group, pretending to watch as some of the games are set up.
Caleb has got Alora back in his arms, and he looks so right with her; however, I feel about him, I can’t deny he’s turning out to be a great dad.
When I heard him singing to her, it both touched and broke my heart.
He sang a traditional pack lullaby that I remember from my own childhood.
I don’t know how he does it, but he somehow manages to push my buttons emotionally even when he’s not even trying.
I take a deep breath and try to steady myself.
Days like this remind me of how much I’ve lost…
or who I’ve lost. Suddenly, a woman materializes next to me, a baby balanced on one hip and a toddler clinging to her jeans.
I know her by reputation, and we were introduced once in town by Fern.
It’s Fiona, Thomas’s mate, the pack Beta.
She’s the one who helped drag survivors out of the old hunter camps, the one who rebuilt her life with her own hands.
Her gaze is clear and unflinching, and it lands on me for exactly five seconds before she nods, as if confirming some internal checklist.
“Dina, right?” she says, voice just loud enough to be heard over the thrum of pack noise.
“Yeah,” I answer, trying not to sound as awkward as I feel. The baby on her hip is fussing slightly, but she just bounces her slightly, seeming completely unfazed.
“I hear you’re watching Alora for Caleb.” It’s not a question, but an invitation.
I nod. “He needed the help.”
She grins, an expression so unexpected it takes me a second to process it. “We all do, at some point, I think. Don’t let anyone tell you different.”
I want to reply, but the words get stuck in my chest. Instead, I focus on the red and blue plastic cones they’ve set up for the kids’ races, and how Fiona’s older daughter is now methodically pulling grass out of the ground and laying it in a pile at our feet.
Fiona follows my gaze. “That’s Maisie,” she says. “She’s five, going on fifteen, and thoroughly annoyed she can’t do the races yet. If you ever need a hand, just bring Alora by the house. The girls will entertain each other.” She says it like it’s already decided.
I’m about to thank her when Thomas himself comes over, a stack of printouts in hand.
He’s got Beta stamped all over him: even, steady, a little intimidating.
He gives me a smile that makes him look ten years younger.
“Dina, I heard you used to help your dad with perimeter maps. Bryan says you’re just the person to ask for a second opinion, that right? ”
I freeze. Damn Bryan and his big mouth. “Sometimes,” I say, guarded.
He hands me a map with the new patrol routes marked with a highlighter.
I scan it and immediately see two choke points that could funnel a whole squad into a pointless bottleneck.
I point this out just as Nick and Bryan walk over, and Thomas makes a pleased noise low in his throat, not quite a laugh but close.
He shows the guys, and Nick flashes me a surprised nod that looks a lot like appreciation.
“You ever think about coming to training?” he asks. “We could always use another set of eyes.”
My mouth is dry. I want to say no, but the way he asks, it doesn’t feel like a challenge, more like a genuine offer. “Maybe,” I say.
“Didn’t I tell you?” Bryan says. “She’s got her old man’s brain for it. Probably could run the whole perimeter blindfolded, if you asked her.”
The words land like a stone in my stomach. I can feel the eyes of the whole group on me, including Caleb, who has wandered over with Alora, and for a second, I’d do anything to be invisible.
“I just pointed it out,” I mumble, suddenly wishing for a hole to crawl into. “Anyone could see it.”
Bryan shakes his head. “No, really. You’re the only one who did.
Reminds me of your father; he used to take the patrol maps and cover them in red pen.
Always had the best technical eye.” He means it as a compliment, but there’s a tenderness under the words that makes me want to run away and also cry.