The morning sunlight filtered through my apartment windows, casting warm patterns across my rumpled bedsheets. I'd barely slept after returning from Orion's place last night, my mind replaying our conversation over and over again. His words echoed in my thoughts.
*"I need to be honest with you. About how I feel. About what I want."*
We had talked for hours after that, about everything and nothing. About the pack, about my designs, about his hopes for Storm Crest's future. Yet somehow, we'd danced around the real conversation lurking beneath the surface. The one about us. About what we might be to each other.
It wasn't that he hadn't tried. Orion had reached for my hand across his kitchen counter, his eyes filled with an emotion that made my breath catch. But I'd panicked, asking about pack business instead. Like a coward.
