POV Cassidy
I throw myself into teaching the next morning like it could save me from drowning.
"Miss Whitaker, are you sad?" Emma Hartwell asks during silent reading time, her eight-year-old eyes too knowing for comfort.
"Just tired, sweetheart." I force brightness into my voice. "Keep reading."
But Emma isn’t fooled. Twenty minutes later, she appears at my desk with a folded piece of construction paper. Inside, crayon wolves run beneath a silver moon, their amber eyes glowing with yellow marker.
For when you feel lost, she’s written in careful letters across the bottom.
My throat tightens. "Thank you, Emma. This is beautiful."
"My grandma says wolves always find their way home." Emma smiles and skips back to her seat.
Home. The word twists in my chest like a hook.
During math worksheets, nine-year-old Caleb Rivers approaches with something clutched in his small fist.
"This is for you," he whispers, pressing a smooth river stone into my palm. "My dad says special rocks help when your heart hurts."
The stone feels warm against my skin, almost alive. These children see everything, understand things they shouldn't understand. Their supernatural awareness should terrify me. Instead, their kindness makes tears burn behind my eyes.
"Thank you, Caleb." I squeeze the stone. "You're very thoughtful."
"You’ll feel better soon," he says with absolute certainty before returning to his desk.
The rest of the morning crawls by. Every student seems hyperaware of my emotional state. They speak in gentle voices, move carefully around me, offer spontaneous hugs during transitions.
Their wolf-sharp instincts pick up distress signals I thought I’d hidden.
When the lunch bell rings, I practically flee to the teachers' lounge.
"Miss Whitaker?" Principal Harriet Lane appears in the doorway. "Could I speak with you privately?"
My stomach drops. "Of course."
Lane's office feels smaller today, her desk imposing as she gestures for me to sit. She studies me with those sharp eyes that miss nothing.
"Are you having trouble with pack integration?" she asks directly. "You seem quite stressed."
"I only found out about any of this yesterday."
Genuine surprise flickers across her features. "I assumed Theo Muray would've told you about our community dynamics. You two seem close."
"Apparently not close enough." The bitterness slips out before I can stop it.
Lane's expression softens. She leans back in her chair, suddenly looking less like a principal and more like someone who understands.
"I moved to Moon Hollow twenty years ago," she begins. "My husband brought me here after we married, and I felt completely overwhelmed by the supernatural community structure. The hierarchy, the traditions, the unspoken rules everyone expected me to know."
"How did you handle it?"
"Trial and error. Lots of mistakes." She smiles ruefully. "The werewolf families here maintain deep traditions. Full-moon curfews for safety reasons. Pack council protocols that affect school scheduling. Ancient rituals that sometimes interrupt normal life."
She pulls out a thick folder from her desk drawer.
"Emergency contacts for supernatural incidents. Pack mediators if you need neutral intervention. Guidelines for navigating family politics."
Lane slides the folder across her desk.
"Moon Hollow looks like a normal small town, but underneath runs currents that can sweep newcomers under if they're not careful."
"And the Muray family?"
"Complicated." Lane chooses her words carefully. "The succession questions create additional pressure for anyone connected to them. Theo and Xander are both good men, but they're dealing with family legacy issues that go back generations."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning you're caught in dynamics that existed long before you arrived." She leans forward. "Pack politics affect everyone here, whether we want them to or not. The Alpha succession impacts everything from school funding to town infrastructure."
The information feels overwhelming. Yesterday I was a normal teacher. Today I’m discussing werewolf hierarchy like it’s routine curriculum planning.
"What would you do?" I ask quietly. "In my position?"
"Take time to understand what you're stepping into before making permanent decisions." Lane’s voice holds genuine concern. "The supernatural world operates by different rules than the human one. What feels right emotionally might have consequences you haven't considered."
My phone buzzes against my leg. Then again. Then again.
"Thank you for the folder," I say, standing. "And for being honest."
"My door is always open if you need guidance."
Back in my classroom, I check my messages with dread.
Theo: Can I call you tonight? We need to talk.
Xander: Are you okay? We should discuss what happened.
Theo: Please don't shut me out. I'm worried about you.
The messages keep coming throughout the afternoon. Both brothers apparently ignore the fact that I’m teaching, that my phone stays silent during school hours for professional reasons.
By the final bell, my nerves are stretched thin as piano wire.
I gather my things slowly, hoping both Muray brothers have gotten distracted by their own responsibilities. Maybe I can slip out unnoticed, drive home to blessed solitude and the letters that still need reading.
No such luck.
Theo leans against my car in the faculty parking lot, worry written across every line of his face. Golden afternoon light catches the concern in his eyes, makes him look younger than his twenty-eight years.
"How was your day?" he asks gently as I approach.
"Long."
I fumble for my keys, and movement in my peripheral vision makes me freeze.
Xander steps out from behind a pickup truck in the staff lot, hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets. His dark hair catches sunlight as he walks toward us with that controlled, hunting-still grace, eyes fixed on me with uncomfortable intensity.
Great. Both of them.
"I just want to make sure you're alright," Theo says, reaching for my arm.
"I just want to make sure you're alright," Xander says at exactly the same moment, stopping a careful distance away.
The parallel words hang in the air like accusations.
Theo's jaw ticks with irritation. "You don't get to ambush her at her workplace."
"And you don't get to speak for her," Xander replies, voice low and controlled. "She's perfectly capable of making her own choices."
"Guys." I step between them before this can escalate. My pulse climbs as both sets of eyes focus on me with overwhelming attention. "I'm not ready to talk. Not to either of you. I need time to process everything that's happened. Please."
Theo's expression immediately softens. "Can I at least drive you home? Make sure you're safe?"
"No," I say as gently as possible. "I need to be alone right now. I'll reach out when I'm ready."
Xander nods once, contained but intense. "Message received. I won’t push."
"Thank you." I unlock the car with hands that shake slightly and slide behind the wheel.
As I pull out of the parking lot, they’re already facing off again. Theo’s voice rises with frustrated emotion while Xander responds in those even, controlled tones that somehow carry more threat than shouting.
I don’t stay to parse their words.
Guilt and adrenaline churn in my stomach as the school shrinks in my rearview mirror. Two good men, both offering support in their own ways, and I’m leaving them both in the lot.
But the truth settles into my bones with uncomfortable certainty as I drive toward home and solitude.
What am I supposed to do with two men who both feel like gravity?