Pecan's pov
The park had never been my favorite place,it was too open, too exposed,but it served its purpose as a believable excuse. "I'm going for a stroll," I told my mom and Pate over breakfast. Pate raised an eyebrow, but for once, she didn't press me with questions. Mom just nodded distractedly, her hands busy with the dishes.
In truth, I needed space, not nature. My mind felt clouded, and the confines of the pack house were suffocating me. The weight of everyone's expectations, the whispers behind my back, and Pate's icy glares had built into a pressure I couldn't contain. So instead of heading to the park, I found myself at the cozy little coffee shop on the edge of town.
The rich aroma of roasted coffee beans greeted me as I stepped inside, the warmth of the shop a welcome reprieve from the crisp air outside. It was quieter than usual, with only a couple of people scattered across the small tables, absorbed in their laptops or conversations.
