There were way too many pancakes, I decided. I leaned against the counter and squinted at the setup.
“How many people are you expecting?” I asked.
She didn’t even look up. “Good morning to you too.”
“Morning,” I muttered. “Why are there enough pancakes here to feed a small army?”
“Levi and Mason are coming over.”
That explained everything and nothing at the same time. I sighed and pushed off the counter.
“Of course they are,” I grumbled.
My mom smiled like she’d planned this all along. “You can help.”
I didn’t argue. That was the thing with my mother. You didn’t really win debates with her. You just eventually accepted your role in whatever domestic operation she’d already mentally assigned you.
So I started flipping pancakes. It was mindless work, familiar and easy, and it helped me think less. Unfortunately, my brain had other plans.
Seth surfaced almost immediately, uninvited as usual.
I flipped another pancake and tried to ignore the way my thoughts kept drifting back to him. The last time I’d seen him properly. The way things had felt off since the wedding.
We hadn’t really talked much in the last two weeks, not properly at least. At first I’d told myself it made sense. He was busy with work. I was busy with pack stuff.
The wedding had been intense for both of us. A little space was normal. Heck, it was healthy, even. That was what I kept telling myself, but the truth was, I’d only been to the café once since then.
Once. That had felt wrong in a way I couldn’t easily explain, because I usually dropped by at least three times a week.
Seth had been there behind the counter like usual, pulling shots of espresso, talking to customers with that easy warmth that made people lean in without realizing it.
However when I’d walked in, something had shifted and I knew I didn’t imagine it. The conversation between us had been careful and shorter.
It felt like we were both standing on opposite sides of a line neither of us wanted to acknowledge. It felt like how we used to talk when I was just a customer, and Seth was just the barista.
Not someone I’d kissed on a beach, or held through the night. We acted like he wasn’t someone I’d started thinking about too much in quiet moments I didn’t used to have.
I didn’t like the distance, but I couldn’t entirely blame Seth for it either. Maybe I’d created it just as much or more. My wolf, annoyingly, hated the space between us.
It kept pacing in the back of my mind like it was waiting for something it couldn’t reach. I constantly reminded myself space was fine.
Space was normal, it would also give things room to settle.
Two weeks had passed since the wedding. Fourteen days since everything had blurred in ways I still hadn’t sorted out properly, and Seth still hadn’t reached out.
That fact sat in me more heavily than I wanted to admit. A part of me had expected something, a text or simple check-in maybe, something casual that let me know I wasn’t the only one still thinking about it.
Too bad there had been nothing. Which led my brain to the worst possible conclusion it liked to revisit at inconvenient times.
Maybe none of it had been real. The chemistry, the closeness, the way things had felt so natural between us perhaps that was just me projecting. My grip on the spatula tightened slightly.
No. That wasn’t true. I could still remember it too clearly.
The warmth of Seth’s body underneath me in bed. The way he had looked at me like I wasn’t temporary, and how his hand had felt in mine like it belonged there.
Dang it, but I was doing it again. Circling the same thought like it had teeth and I was stupid enough to keep feeding it.
“Dane?” My mom’s voice cut through the spiral.
