Chapter 11 You Chose to Be Here
You Chose to Be Here
Jas
Irest against the counter, twisting a dish towel in my hands.
A string of muffled curses comes from beneath the sink as Dominik wedges his too-broad shoulders deeper into the cabinet. Between this man and his wolf, I’ve never met a more stubborn pair.
“Viktor is a phone call away,” I say. Again.
The sight of him—all six-foot something sprawled across my café kitchen floor—is proof I’m fighting a losing battle.
My kitchen, usually fragrant with honey, lemon, and coffee beans, has surrendered to stale water.
Over the weekend, the sound of a persistent drip-drip-drip has split my last damn nerve.
Another task was shuffled from one day’s to-do list to the next.
Apparently, mastering adulthood is a bucket-list item.
Dominik’s visit for a drink turned catastrophic when the drip spiraled into a burst pipe within seconds. Thank the Seven for Blythe’s level head. She helped me shut off the main water while Dom ran to the hardware store for supplies.
“Viktor’s finishing the apartment above the barn,” he says, his voice slightly muffled with a few grunts. “The one Elora’s listing for rent.”
Oh yes, that renovation. Viktor—one of the many minotaurs of the herd who lives here—runs Ironhorn Construction. Elora has a large space above the barn that she decided to convert into an apartment to rent out.
“He’s behind on his deadline and busy with other projects. I know how to fix a simple leak. Problem soon to be solved.”
My gasp is dramatic. “It wasn’t a simple leak,” I tease, sweeping a few loose curls back and folding my arms across my chest, “it was a mini flood. The End of all Endings.”
He laughs, the sound vibrating through his whole body.
He’s still halfway under the sink, one leg bent at the knee, the other stretched out.
His shirt rises enough to see a small pale scar above the waistband of his jeans.
I shouldn’t stare, but I wonder about its origin story.
Was it a fight? A werewolf fight? Wouldn’t that be something to see?
A pipe falls, and I jump.
“My bad.” He chuckles, head still deep within the cabinet. “Didn’t mean to scare you. Almost finished.”
My heart races as I crouch down beside him, peering under the sink. “Are you sure you don’t need any help?” Not that I know what I’m doing.
“I’ve got it.”
Of course he does. He always does. Goddess knows I’m grateful for him saving me a small fortune.
He knows what he’s doing, but not many people would do this for free.
I shouldn’t feel indebted, but how can I not?
Every dollar he saves me helps to support my daughter, maintain my home, and keep the café running.
But it’s more. It's the thoughtfulness of his actions.
The way he shows up. The way he puts me first without ever saying it out loud.
He could’ve brushed me off with a “Call Viktor, he’ll fit you in when he can, I’m too busy right now, sorry.” But instead, he rolls up his sleeves and gets to work, like when I needed light bulbs changed, smoke detectors, and when I wanted to surprise Seren by painting her bedroom.
“Almost there,” he mumbles.
I glance down to see him twisting the wrench one last time. He wriggles out, takes the towel I hand him, and wipes his hands.
“There, no more leaks,” he says, flashing a wide grin, too bright and proud. I can’t help but roll my eyes, but I’m smiling too.
“Thanks, Dom, seriously, you saved me.”
He shrugs like it’s nothing, but it is everything. His shop has been closed for two hours. Meanwhile, I can only serve pastries and tea.
“Always happy to help,” he says, glancing at me before packing his tools and leftover supplies away.
I smile, but his eyes shift. Wolfish eyes scorching into mine with primal intensity. My heart hammers against my ribs, instinct screaming danger…RUN…before his eyes snap back to his rich brown eyes.
Did I imagine it?
The gold glow only ignites when his werewolf is clawing at the surface, desperate to rip out of him. I’ve only seen this every so often, but I’ve never seen him shift. What the hell triggered him?
He opens his mouth, closes it, and clears his throat as if the sentence had stuck there. “I’ll get the water turned back on and treat myself to that free cup of coffee you promised, Jas.”
“Of course.” Before I know it, I’m squeezing his arm. His eyes look to where our skin connects.
Why am I touching him?
I pull my hand back as if I got burned and push open the swinging door so hard it bangs against the wall. I gesture for him to lead, and he heads for the main water valve while I head to the espresso machine.
“It’s on!” Dom yells.
Blythe’s hooves click against the floors, echoing through the shop.
She stops beside me, grabbing a carton of milk from the fridge.
“You okay?” she asks over the hiss of the steam.
Her stormy eyes grow wide with concern. “Oh no!
" Her hand immediately covers the gasp escaping her. “Is the damage worse than you thought?”
“Not at all,” I say, letting out a deep breath. “Dom was able to fix it.”
Blythe's chest deflates with a sigh of relief, while she continues to prepare tea with bottled water and an electric kettle. “Good, I was getting worried.”
I finish the decaf caramel dulce de leche mocha, snap on the lid, and slide on the cardboard sleeve. Since Blythe is busy, I quickly uncap the black marker and write a message on his cup.
“Thanks again, I really appreciate it,” I tell him, handing over the cup when he approaches the counter.
He lifts it in a mock toast. “Anytime. I’ll text you later.”
I wave, watching as he takes his first sip, his mouth curving into a small smile while he reads the message: So grateful you chose to bee here!
“Hi, pretty lady!” I coo at the ketahnsi balancing on the weathered wood railing, her silvery whiskers twitching as she looks at me before scanning the area.
Placing my book on the table gives her the signal to spring onto my lap, kneading my jean-covered thighs, then curl into a ball.
I came out here after our dinner to read, to lose myself in a story of another world. After the stress of today, I desperately needed to be outside, surrounded by the trees, the cool air, and a good book. It’s peaceful.
I watch the sky bleed into a watercolor painting of light pink and tangerine, and across the horizon, wisps of clouds spread thin like spun sugar.
The screen door is set, enough to let in a little fresh air, but mostly so I can hear Seren, because when children are too quiet, you know trouble is brewing.
The keta arches against my hand, her fur silky-soft as she purrs like a tiny vibrating engine, giving my hand a lick when I scratch beneath her delicate whiskers. “Why do you keep coming around here, huh?” I know I’m talking to myself.
Her large eyes blink slowly, entirely unbothered by the question. But she looks lonely. I can see it in her gaze. Loneliness disguised as independence. Wanting the warmth of connection, the security of love, and affection, but fearing the vulnerability they all demand of you as well.
It’s like me putting my heart on the line again, whispering desperate prayers I don’t get hurt—or worse—abandoned. We’re both alone, surviving in the wild now. Maybe she’s chosen us.
My phone buzzes beside me.
Dom: Wanted to check in. Everything with the café still running okay? No new leaks? No new floods for the second ending of all endings?
I snort.
Me: Hush. Lol.
Me: Everything’s good. No more drips. Thanks again for your help.
Before I can overthink, I add:
Me: And are you okay?
The typing bubble appears, disappears, and returns.
Dom: Yeah, I’m fine. Why?
Me: When you were leaving, I thought I saw your eyes flash. I wanted to make sure you’re alright.
A longer pause.
Dom: I’m okay. My wolf was on edge. Happens sometimes. Thanks for checking.
Not the full truth, maybe—but it’s what he’s willing to share.
Me: Okay.
Dom: What are you and Seren up to tonight?
I smile despite myself, running my fingers down the spine of the warm ball of fur.
Me: Had dinner and now she’s playing with toys. You know me, any downtime my nose is in a book.
Dom: But it’s cute seeing you get excited over books.
Me: Cute?
A chuckle escapes me. Reading isn’t an adorable hobby. Reading is survival. Reading is oxygen.
I hear the sliding door glide open with a soft rush of air, and it slams shut. Seren runs out in her rainboots and jacket, immediately squealing.
The keta abandons my lap, slinking towards her and winding between her legs.
My phone vibrates with a new message.
Dom: You’ve never seen yourself read.
I blink at the screen. Alright.
Dom: Let me know if anything crazy happens at the café again.
Me: Will do. Night, Dom.
Dom: Goodnight, Jas.