Caleb’s P.O.V
When we finally parted ways after dinner, we all headed back to our own cars.
Just as Mia had been on Shane’s passenger seat, Caroline had been on mine; we came here together from my house, which was basically a place our families shared due to the pack ranks.
We walked to my car side by side, but just as I reached for the door handle of the driver’s side, Caroline suddenly said, “Hey, hold on.”
I turned to her curiously. “Yeah?” I prompted. “What is it?”
Her lips curled into a smile, and in her eyes, I could see the reflection of the moonlight, just like the light reflected off of the sea. “Walk with me,” she said, a bit hesitantly. “There’s a park nearby. I want to relax a bit.”
As we walked toward the park, the night air carried a certain stillness, a quiet that wrapped around us like a familiar embrace. Caroline had asked me to walk with her, and I hadn’t hesitated. I never could when it came to her. There was something about the way she looked at me—soft yet unwavering—that made me feel like I could follow her anywhere, even if I didn’t quite know where we were going.
The park was empty, save for the rustling trees and the faint chirping of crickets. The swings creaked slightly as we sat down, the chains groaning under our weight. The moon hung high, casting a pale glow over the playground, bathing everything in an eerie, silver light. Caroline’s fingers curled around the chains of her swing as she kicked at the ground, making small movements back and forth. I watched her for a moment, the way her golden hair fell over her shoulders, the way her lips pressed together as if she was carefully considering her next words.
“The moon will be full soon,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
I nodded, though I wasn’t sure what she was getting at. “Yeah, I guess it will.”
Silence stretched between us, thick and heavy. Caroline was never one to bring up something without reason, and that realization made me sit up straighter, my hands gripping the chains a little tighter. She was avoiding my eyes, staring at the sky instead.
“What’s on your mind, Caroline?” I finally asked, keeping my voice gentle.
She exhaled slowly, her breath visible in the cool night air. “I don’t know how to say it,” she admitted, tilting her head slightly as if searching for the right words. “But I feel like... things are going to change.”
Something about the way she said it made my stomach twist. “Change how?”
She finally turned to look at me, and for the first time tonight, I saw something flicker in her gaze—something deep and unspoken, something that sent a shiver down my spine. It wasn’t scary exactly, but it was close.
“I don’t know yet,” she admitted, shaking her head slightly. “But I can feel it, Caleb. It’s like… this pull, this weight pressing down on me. Like something big is about to happen, and I don’t know if I’m ready for it.”
I frowned, studying her face carefully. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”
She gave me a small, almost sad smile. “I know. That’s why you’re my best friend.”
My chest tightened at her words. I leaned back against the swing, my gaze fixed on the stars above as I listened to her words.
“You know, it would be really pretty if there was a full moon on your birthday,” she mused. “I’m pretty sure you’re well-aware of this—there’s this superstition that Alphas are born on full moons, so on their eighteenth birthday, the moon comes in full swing, too.” She laughed lightly. “Maybe it’s just a coincidence, but I think it’s a really beautiful thing.”
I exhaled slowly, rolling my head to the side to look at her. "Alright, Caroline. Just tell me what’s on your mind."
She blinked, caught off guard, and turned to face me fully. "What? What do you mean?"
I gave her a look. "Come on. I’ve known you since we were kids. You do this thing, where you start talking nonsense whenever you’re stalling. Like, when you broke my mom’s vase and tried to distract me with some story about crows remembering faces—"
"That was a fact," she cut in, crossing her arms.
I huffed out a laugh. "Yeah, but it had nothing to do with the fact that you shattered a hundred-year-old vase."
She bit her lip, looking away, fingers picking at the hem of her hoodie. "Maybe I just like sharing fun facts," she muttered, but there was no fight in her voice. Just hesitation.
"Caroline." My voice softened, but I held her gaze. "Just say it."
She swallowed, her throat bobbing, and for a moment, she looked so small, so unlike the stubborn, headstrong girl I’d grown up with. Whatever it was, she didn’t want to say it. And I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear it.
But I waited anyway.
"You really do know me the best," she admitted, her voice quieter now, more thoughtful. "Which is exactly why I need to tell you that I'm not your mate."
For a moment, I could only stare at her, the weight of her words settling heavily in my chest. I shook my head, a small, disbelieving laugh escaping me. "How can you be so sure?" I asked, my voice steadier than I expected it to be. "I’m not even eighteen yet, Caroline. And you—" I gestured toward her. "You’re two months younger than me. There’s no way for either of us to know for sure."
Caroline sighed, and it was at that moment I realized she had thought about this a lot longer than I had. She wasn’t just saying this on a whim. This was something she had been sitting with, something she had come to terms with before I even had the chance to consider it. And that made it worse.
"If we were mates, Caleb," she said gently, "we would’ve known already. We would feel it. And I think—" She paused, her fingers fidgeting slightly at the hem of her sleeve. "I think maybe you already know that, too."
Her words settled over me like a slow, creeping weight, pressing down on the part of me that had held onto the hope that she would be mine—that fate would choose her the way I already had. But the way she looked at me now, not with love but with something close to pity, made it impossible to argue. I hated that she might be right. I hated that she probably was.
“Caleb.” She didn’t meet my eyes, but her voice was firm when she spoke. “You know just as well as me that if we truly were mates, we would have been able to tell already. Like you said before, we’ve been together all our lives, and it would usually seem like a valid choice that I would end up being your mate, but we both know that’s not true.”
“You don’t really believe that,” I said, trying not to let it show that I felt like shit on the inside.
“I do, Caleb.” She smiled sadly. “If it were true, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
I swallowed, my jaw tightening. "And what if you're wrong?"
She smiled, but it was the kind of smile that didn't reach her eyes. The kind of smile that said she wished I was right, but she knew better. "Then I guess we’ll find out soon enough," she murmured. "But I don’t think I am, Caleb. And I think, deep down, neither do you."
I wanted to fight her on it. I wanted to tell her she was wrong, that she didn’t know everything, that fate didn’t work on a timeline we could predict. But the words wouldn't come, and all I could do was stand there, watching as the girl I had spent my whole life thinking I would end up with slowly but surely pulled away from me.
I exhaled slowly, steadying my nerves as I turned to face her. The glow from the streetlamp outside flickered, casting a warm hue over her features.
I swallowed hard and forced a chuckle, though it came out shakier than I intended. "I know this might not be true," I started, my voice quieter than usual, more uncertain. "But… I need to ask you something…to do something that might…tell us if we were really…"
She turned to me then, her brows knitting together slightly. "What is it?"
I hesitated, my fingers tightening around the edge of the table. "Can I kiss you?"
For a second, she didn’t react. She just stared at me, like she was waiting for the punchline to a joke. But when she realized I wasn’t laughing, her lips parted slightly, and a sharp breath escaped her.
"Caleb…" Her voice was barely above a whisper, and I could already hear the rejection forming. "I don’t want to ruin our friendship."
I nodded, like I understood. Maybe I did. But I wasn’t ready to back down just yet. "I get that," I said, my voice steady despite the way my heart pounded. "And I promise, this isn’t about changing anything between us. I just… I need to check something. Just once. If we don’t click, I’ll never bring it up again. This night—this conversation—will be forgotten. I swear."
She looked at me then, really looked at me, as if she was trying to find some hidden meaning in my words. As if she was trying to figure out if I was worth the risk. Silence stretched between us, thick and almost suffocating. I could see the wheels turning in her head, the war between logic and curiosity.
And then, finally, she let out a breath. "Just once," she murmured.
I didn’t know if this was the right thing to do, but as I leaned forward, encouraging Care to meet me halfway, I had this nagging feeling in my heart that I was doing all of this to deny the inevitable.