Chapter Eight

I sleep terribly.

Not because Drevin left.

Obviously.

That would be pathetic.

I sleep terribly because the house is too warm, my pillow is uncomfortable, and apparently someone in the universe decided three in the morning was a fantastic time for my brain to replay every word Drevin said.

You didn’t do anything wrong.

That should make me feel better.

It doesn’t.

By six-thirty, I give up on sleep entirely.

The house is quiet when I go downstairs.

Too quiet.

Mom and Dad are still asleep.

The kitchen lights are off.

And Callum is sitting on the back porch with a mug of coffee, staring into the trees.

I stop at the sliding door.

“You’re awake.”

He looks over his shoulder.

“So are you.”

“I asked first.”

“No, you made an observation.”

I open the door.

Cold morning air hits my bare legs.

I immediately regret wearing shorts.

Callum looks down at them.

“Great planning.”

“Shut up.”

I step outside anyway and curl into the chair beside him.

He holds out his mug.

I take it.

“Hey.”

“That’s mine.”

“You offered.”

“I was showing you.”

“With your arm?”

“Yes.”

“Poor communication.”

I drink.

Black coffee.

I make a face.

“You’re disgusting.”

Callum takes it back.

“You put enough sugar in yours to qualify as syrup.”

“Because I enjoy happiness.”

He snorts.

For a few minutes, neither of us talks.

The woods behind our house are still gray with early morning, mist caught low between the trees.

Somewhere farther down the hill, the creek rushes over rocks.

It’s peaceful.

Which is probably why Callum ruins it.

“So.”

I already hate where this is going.

“No.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were going to.”

“Probably.”

I sink farther into the chair.

Callum drinks his coffee.

“You and Drevin fighting?”

My eyes close.

There it is.

“No.”

“Hmm.”

I open one eye.

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“The judgmental hum.”

“Mom has a better one.”

“She does.”

“You should hear hers when Dad says he can fix something without reading the instructions.”

Despite myself, I smile.

Then it disappears.

Callum notices.

Of course he does.

He doesn’t ask again.

That’s one of the things I like most about my brother.

He irritates me constantly, invades my personal space, steals my food, and has threatened at least three boys I’ve dated.

But when something actually matters, he waits.

I pull my knees against my chest.

“Do things really change after you shift?”

Callum looks at me.

“Yeah.”

The answer comes too easily.

My stomach sinks.

He notices.

“Not necessarily badly.”

“What changes?”

“Everything. Nothing.”

“That was useless.”

“I know.”

He sets his mug on the porch railing.

“It’s hard to explain before you have your wolf. You’re still you. But suddenly there’s another part of you that’s always been there, except now you can hear it.”

“That sounds mildly terrifying.”

“It is at first.”

“You ran into a fence.”

His expression darkens.

“That story needs to die.”

“It never will.”

“I hate this family.”

“No, you don’t.”

The words make my chest pinch.

Again.

Callum doesn’t notice.

“Your wolf changes how you experience some things,” he continues. “Smells are stronger. Instincts. Emotions, sometimes.”

“Great. Exactly what I need. More emotions.”

“You’re doomed.”

“Thank you.”

He nudges my knee.

“You’ll be fine.”

Everyone keeps saying that.

Mom.

Dad.

Drevin.

Now Callum.

I stare at the trees.

“What about mates?”

His expression changes slightly.

“What about them?”

I shrug.

“You know. The whole thing.”

“That clears it right up.”

I glare.

“You know what I mean.”

Callum smiles.

“Ask the actual question.”

I hate when he does that.

I pick at a loose thread on my shorts.

“What does it feel like?”

“When you meet them?”

I nod.

Callum leans back.

“I haven’t.”

That surprises me.

“You haven’t?”

“Nope.”

“But you’re twenty-five.”

“Thank you for reminding me.”

“I just assumed…”

“That my ancient unmarried ass was hiding someone?”

“You’re not ancient.”

“I appreciate that.”

“You are unmarried, though.”

“Camille.”

“Sorry.”

He shakes his head.

“I’ve met plenty of wolves who found theirs.”

“And?”

“And apparently you know.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

I frown.

“That seems unreliable.”

“Pretty sure Selene didn’t ask for your feedback when she designed the system.”

“Maybe she should have.”

“I’ll submit a complaint.”

I smile.

But the question sitting under my tongue doesn’t go away.

Callum looks at me.

“Come on.”

“What?”

“That wasn’t what you really wanted to ask.”

I sigh.

“You’re annoying.”

“It’s a gift.”

I look back toward the trees.

“What if I don’t like him?”

Callum goes quiet.

My face warms immediately.

“Or her. Whatever. I mean—what if my mate is just… awful?”

The teasing disappears from his face.

“Then they’re awful.”

I blink.

“That’s your answer?”

“What did you expect?”

“I don’t know. Something about the bond.”

Callum shrugs.

“The bond doesn’t turn an asshole into a good person.”

I stare at him.

“But they’re your mate.”

“So?”

“So isn’t that supposed to mean something?”

“Sure.”

He picks up his coffee again.

“It means fate thinks the two of you have the potential for something.”

“Potential.”

“Not a guarantee.”

I think about that.

Every story we grow up hearing makes mates sound inevitable.

Two people meet.

The bond clicks into place.

Everything suddenly makes sense.

Happy ending.

Easy.

Callum looks at me.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“You’ve got your thinking face.”

“I don’t have a thinking face.”

“You do. Your eyebrows get weird.”

I shove his shoulder.

He barely moves.

“What if I don’t want him?”

Callum doesn’t laugh.

That matters.

“Then you don’t want him.”

“That simple?”

“No.”

He pauses.

“But it should still be your choice.”

I look at him.

He meets my eyes.

“Being your mate doesn’t magically make him good enough for you, Cam.”

Something in my chest settles.

Not completely.

But enough.

“What if everyone thinks I’m stupid?”

“For not wanting him?”

“Yeah.”

“Then everyone can mind their own damn business.”

I smile.

“You’d really say that?”

“I’d probably say worse.”

“You usually do.”

“Exactly.”

He reaches over and tugs one of my curls.

I slap his hand away.

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

His expression softens.

“You don’t owe someone your whole life because fate points at them.”

I swallow.

“Mom would hate hearing you say that.”

“Mom would agree.”

“Dad?”

“He’d threaten the guy before asking his name.”

I laugh.

That sounds right.

Callum picks up his mug.

“Why are you thinking about this now?”

My chest tightens.

For one second, Drevin’s face flashes through my mind.

His hands in his pockets.

His empty spot on the couch.

The way he left before the movie ended.

I shake my head.

“My birthday.”

Callum studies me.

I can tell he doesn’t fully believe me.

But he lets it go.

“Five days.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“Too late.”

I groan.

He stands.

“I’m making breakfast.”

“You cook?”

“Rude.”

“You nearly set pasta on fire once.”

“That was one time.”

“The water caught fire, Callum.”

“The towel caught fire.”

“Which was beside the water.”

“Details.”

I follow him inside.

My phone is sitting on the kitchen counter where I left it last night.

The screen lights as I walk past.

For one stupid second, my heart jumps.

Then I see the notification.

Not Drevin.

I don’t know whether I’m relieved or disappointed.

Maybe both.

Callum opens the refrigerator behind me.

“Eggs?”

“Sure.”

I turn my phone facedown.

Five days until I shift.

Five days until I might meet the person fate supposedly chose for me.

And for the first time, I find myself wondering something I never thought I would.

What happens if fate chooses wrong?