Pecan's pov
The midday sun spilled through the towering windows of the pack house, casting golden streaks across the polished marble floors. I sat stiffly on the plush sofa in the main sitting area, trying to ignore the bustle around me. Movers carried boxes back and forth, their heavy boots echoing in the grand space. My mother, however, seemed perfectly at ease, her laughter mingling with Pate's as they chatted near the entrance.
It was irritating how easily they had hit it off. My mom always had a knack for making fast friends, and Pate, with her bubbly personality and unshakable charm, was the perfect companion. I, on the other hand, was left to stew in my discomfort.
"Isn't this such a beautiful place?" Mom gushed, gesturing toward the high ceilings and intricate woodwork.
Pate smiled warmly. "Oh, thank you! We try to make it feel welcoming for everyone."
I rolled my eyes, leaning further back into the couch. "Welcoming" wasn't exactly the word I'd use. Oppressive? Maybe. Overwhelming? Definitely.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught movement; a familiar figure strolling casually through the hall. My heart sank as I realized it was Paul. He was heading straight for Pate and my mom, his confident stride as infuriatingly attractive as ever.
I straightened, my wolf stirring uneasily within me. I hated the way his presence affected me, how it tugged at something primal and unyielding deep inside. He was supposed to be nothing more than another member of the pack, yet every glance, every word he spoke, seemed to light a fire under my skin.
"Paul!" Pate's voice lit up as she turned to greet him.
He smiled, a soft, genuine smile that made my chest ache. "Hey, Pate. Mrs. Greene."
"Paul, darling!" my mom chimed, her voice dripping with fondness. "It's been ages. How are you?"
"Doing well, thank you," he replied politely, his eyes barely flicking toward me before returning to the conversation.
I clenched my fists, my nails biting into my palms. He was avoiding me. It wasn't the first time, and it wouldn't be the last, but it still stung.
They continued chatting as though I didn't exist, and I sat there, feeling like an unwanted guest in a home that wasn't mine. And then, as if to twist the knife a little deeper, Paul leaned in and pressed a kiss to Pate's lips.
It wasn't a fleeting peck or a casual gesture. It was deliberate, tender, and completely unbearable.
My wolf roared in protest, a low growl vibrating in my chest that I barely managed to suppress. I forced myself to look away, fixing my gaze on the movers struggling with a particularly large box. Anything to avoid the scene playing out before me.
"I'll see you later," Paul said, his voice low and intimate.
Pate smiled up at him, her eyes sparkling. "Drive safe."
He nodded and turned to leave, his footsteps fading down the hall.
The room felt suffocating, the air heavy with unspoken tension. My mother and Pate resumed their conversation as though nothing had happened, but I couldn't shake the image of that kiss from my mind.
I gritted my teeth, a dangerous thought creeping into my consciousness. If Pate were out of the picture...
The idea slithered into my mind, dark and insidious. I imagined a world where she didn't exist, where her bright smile and perfect demeanor were gone. Would Paul notice me then? Would he finally see me as more than just an afterthought?
The thought horrified me even as it tempted me. My wolf bristled with anger, not at Paul, but at Pate; the obstacle, the rival.
I shook my head violently, trying to dispel the idea. What is wrong with me?
"Pecan?"
I jumped, startled by the sound of Pate's voice. She stood in front of me, holding a glass of warm milk in one hand and wearing that ever-present smile.
"I thought you might like something to help you relax," she said, extending the glass toward me.
I stared at her, my guilt twisting like a knife in my gut. She wasn't just kind; she was too kind, the kind of person who didn't deserve the venomous thoughts I'd just entertained.
"Thanks," I mumbled, taking the glass from her.
She sat down beside me, her demeanor as friendly as ever. "I know it can be a lot, moving into a new place like this. If there's anything you need, just let me know, okay?"
I nodded, unable to meet her gaze. "Sure."
For a moment, we sat in silence, the distant sounds of the movers filling the space. Pate sipped from her own glass of milk, completely at ease.
"Paul mentioned you were close once," she said suddenly, her tone casual.
My grip tightened on the glass. "Not really," I said quickly.
She tilted her head, studying me with curious eyes. "Really? He talks about you sometimes. Always fondly."
My heart skipped a beat, but I forced myself to remain calm. "He does?"
She smiled. "Of course. He's always had a soft spot for you. You know how he is, though. He keeps his emotions pretty close to the chest."
I let out a short, bitter laugh. "Yeah, that's one way to put it."
Pate didn't seem to notice my sarcasm, or if she did, she chose to ignore it. "I think he admires you," she said thoughtfully.
I nearly choked on the milk. "Admires me?"
"Sure," she said, her smile softening. "You're strong, independent. Not everyone has that kind of presence."
I didn't know how to respond to that, so I said nothing.
The conversation drifted into other topics, and I found myself relaxing despite my earlier anger. Pate's warmth was disarming, and I hated how easily she managed to pull me out of my sour mood.
But as she talked about her plans for the pack house, her hopes for the future, I couldn't help but wonder: was there still a place for me in Paul's life? Or had that door closed for good?
My wolf stirred again, restless and unsatisfied.
Only time would tell.