Caleb’s P.O.V
I let out a slow breath, my heart hammering in my chest as I stare into Care’s eyes, feeling the weight of the moment settling between us. It’s absurd, really. The way the dim glow of the streetlights flickers against her face, highlighting the soft amusement tugging at the corners of her lips, making her look both mischievous and strangely vulnerable. My hand is already half-raised, the space between us narrowing, and then, just before our lips can meet, she throws her hand up between us and—
Bursts out laughing.
The sound is unexpected, sudden, and so genuinely amused that for a moment, I just stare at her, dumbfounded. Then, as the sheer ridiculousness of the situation settles in, I feel my own lips twitch, and before I can stop myself, a chuckle slips past my throat. It starts slow, low, but then builds, and suddenly, we’re both laughing like lunatics in the middle of the street. Care clutches her stomach, shaking her head as she gasps for air, her face alight with amusement.
“Oh, Caleb, no way,” she manages between fits of laughter, wiping at her eyes. “Even if the world was literally ending, and I mean—like, apocalypse, fire raining from the sky, demons crawling out of the ground kind of ending—I still couldn’t do it.” She sucks in a deep breath, shaking her head dramatically before flashing me that familiar, teasing grin. “Kissing you would be like kissing my own brother.”
That makes me laugh even harder, the tension that had built up only moments ago dissolving into nothing but pure, ridiculous relief. “God, I know,” I admit, shaking my head as I rub the back of my neck. “What were we even thinking?”
“We weren’t,” she corrects with a snort. “It was the moment. The damn moment got to us.” She gestures vaguely around us as if the cool night air and the distant hum of the city lights are somehow to blame for our almost-mistake.
I nod, exhaling deeply before flashing her a grin. “Alright, let’s pretend that never happened. I’ll drive you home.”
But she immediately shakes her head, her eyes lighting up with something else entirely. “Nah. I don’t want to sit in your stupid car, Caleb. I want to run.”
I raise an eyebrow, but I already know what she means. “In your wolf form?”
She nods, her expression shifting, the laughter still lingering in her eyes but now mixed with something wilder, freer. “Yeah. I need to shake this off. Need to run, feel the wind, stretch my legs, you know?”
I hesitate for half a second, my protective instincts flaring up despite knowing full well that Care can handle herself just fine. But the way she’s looking at me now, with that barely contained excitement, makes it impossible to say no.
“Alright,” I finally say, sighing as I shove my hands into my pockets. “But at least let me follow behind you, make sure you don’t get into trouble.”
As I take a step forward, eager to join her, she stops me with a raised hand, her expression soft but firm. "Caleb, your car is still here," she reminds me, her eyes flickering toward the sleek black vehicle parked a few feet away. "This isn’t exactly the kind of neighborhood where you leave an expensive car unattended and expect it to be here when you come back." There's a lightness in her tone, but the warning in her words is real.
I glance back at my car, exhaling a quiet chuckle. She has a point. I might not care much about material things, but I also don’t want to deal with the hassle of explaining to insurance how my car mysteriously vanished while I was off running through the woods with her.
Still, there's a part of me that hesitates. The tension between us from earlier had finally settled, and now that we’re back on stable ground, I don’t want to part ways just yet. I had expected the night to end with unresolved tension, maybe even lingering regrets, but instead, there's this—this quiet, unspoken understanding between us that makes it easier to breathe.
"Yeah, alright," I finally say, nodding, though I can’t shake the feeling that I want to say something more. Thank her, maybe. Apologize again, even though I know she’s already let it go. Tell her—what? The words press against my throat, but I don’t let them out. Instead, I just look at her, really look at her—the way the moonlight catches in her hair, the way she looks both fierce and untouchable yet somehow still achingly familiar, like she belongs in a place I’ve long since abandoned.
She must sense the shift in my expression because she gives me a small, knowing smile. "Goodnight, Caleb." Her voice is softer this time, the usual guardedness easing just enough for me to feel it.
I hesitate only for a second before stepping forward and pulling her into a hug. It’s not the kind of brief, half-hearted embrace people give when they don’t know where they stand with each other. It’s warm, solid, and grounding—an unspoken reassurance that whatever happened between us tonight, it didn’t break us. She doesn’t pull away immediately, and I take in the way she exhales, the tension in her shoulders loosening ever so slightly. Maybe, just maybe, she needed this too.
When I finally let go, she takes a step back, and just like that, the moment passes. Without another word, she turns and disappears into the trees, the darkness swallowing her whole. I watch her go, standing there for a second longer than I should, as if expecting her to turn around, to say something else, to give me some reason to follow. But she doesn’t.
With a final glance toward the woods, I sigh and turn back to my car. As I walk back to my car, my steps slow, almost coming to a halt when I see Aurora step out of the restaurant, her small frame illuminated by the soft glow of the streetlights. She’s not alone. A little boy, no older than five or six, clings to her hand, his tiny fingers wrapped around hers with an innocence that tugs at something deep inside me.
For a moment, I just watched, my mind racing back to the rumors I’d overheard—whispers of how her mother had died bringing him into the world, how she had taken on the role of both sister and mother, sacrificing everything for him. But I hadn’t expected this. I hadn’t expected him to be so small, so fragile-looking, and I definitely hadn’t expected the way my chest tightens at the sight of them together.
Aura kneels in front of him, adjusting his coat, her fingers brushing his cheeks with a gentleness that makes my throat go dry. “Are you warm enough, Riley?” Her voice is soft, careful, like she’s afraid the world might steal him away if she isn’t.
The boy—Riley—nods, but I notice the way he shifts on his feet, the way his tiny hands rub against his arms as if trying to generate warmth. It’s cold tonight, colder than it should be, and yet he doesn’t complain. He just looks up at his sister with unwavering trust, as if she’s the only thing keeping him safe in this world.
Something in me stirs, something I don’t understand, and before I even realize what I’m doing, my feet move on their own. I follow them, keeping a safe distance, telling myself it’s just curiosity. That’s all. I just… want to know where they’re going.
Aura doesn’t notice me. She’s too focused on Riley, keeping him close as they walk down the dimly lit sidewalk. It doesn’t take long for me to realize they’re not heading toward the nicer part of town. Instead, they weave through the quieter streets, where the houses are older, the paint peeling, and the streetlights flicker like they’re struggling to stay alive. My brows furrow. I knew she wasn’t well off, but this… this is different.
Riley stumbles on a crack in the pavement, and Aura instantly pulls him into her arms, hoisting him up with ease despite her small frame. “I told you to be careful, silly,” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to his forehead.
He giggles sleepily, wrapping his arms around her neck. “You always say that.”
“And you never listen,” she teases, though I don’t miss the exhaustion in her voice, the way she exhales deeply before continuing forward.
My fingers curl into fists. I don’t know why I’m still here, why I’m trailing after them like some kind of ghost. Maybe it’s the way she carries herself—so strong, so unwavering, despite the weight she’s bearing. Maybe it’s the way Riley looks at her like she’s his entire world. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s the way something about all of this feels… unfair.
I don’t even realize how far we’ve walked until they stop in front of a tiny, rundown building, the porch light barely flickering to life as Aura digs through her bag for the keys. The door creaks when she opens it, and she steps inside, Riley already half-asleep against her shoulder.
I should leave. I should turn around, get in my car, and drive away. But I don’t.
I stand there, staring at the dim light filtering through the window, my mind spinning with a thousand thoughts I can’t quite grasp. And for the first time in a long time, I feel something I can’t name. Something foreign. Something dangerous.
I want to know more.