Page 12 of Noah

They held a mix of mischief and kindness that made my heart skip even back then, though I’d never had the words to name why.

I could still picture how he’d ruffle my hair, teasing but gentle, like it was second nature to him.

Back then, it had annoyed me in the way only a teenager could be annoyed by something secretly comforting.

But other things were getting fuzzy now. The sound of his laugh—it used to be so familiar, but now I wasn’t sure if I’d recognize it if I heard it.

Even the way he used to look at me during those stolen moments, when it felt like time slowed down just for us.

Had it been real? Or was my memory dressing up the past, twisting it into something more than it had ever been?

My heart believed it had been real, but my mind wasn’t so sure anymore.

I didn’t want to know the answer.

From my seat at the back of the hall, I shot a glare at Miles. This had his fingerprints all over it.

Of all the packs attending the summit, and of all possible assignments, what were the odds I’d be put in charge of the Silvercrest Pack?

None. It wasn’t coincidence—it was Miles.

There were perks to having your best friend mated to the pack alpha, but this wasn’t one of them.

It made me want to casually mention another one of Miles’ embarrassing childhood stories to Cooper. That move had worked before, and it would work again.

That would teach him.

I let out a small huff and forced myself to focus on Cooper’s words. Dwelling on memories or plotting petty revenge against Miles wasn’t going to get anything done.

Besides, I had a job to do—a big one—and I couldn’t afford any distraction.

Ethan’s voice jolted me out of my thoughts. “Look at him, scribbling down who knows what on that notebook of his.”

“Hmm?” I blinked, catching up to the conversation. “Wait—who are you talking about?”

Ethan wasn’t looking in the same direction I had been. His attention was fixed elsewhere, so I followed his gaze to Colton, who was standing near the catering team.

He was gesturing animatedly at a stack of equipment, his notebook clutched tightly in one hand.

“Colton?” I guessed.

“Yeah,” Ethan drawled, leaning back in his chair. “Bet he’s over there micromanaging the hell out of the meal prep for that thing tomorrow night.”

“The opening dinner?” I offered. It was an outdoor event—informal, buffet-style, designed to set a relaxed tone for the summit.

“Yeah, that,” Ethan replied, his voice dripping with mock enthusiasm. “You’d think he’s planning a state banquet, notsome casual meet-and-greet with a bunch of shifters who’ll be elbow-deep in barbecue sauce and halfway shifted by the end of the night.” He clicked his tongue and shook his head.

I sighed. “Take it easy on him. He’s your brother.”

Ethan finally looked up at me, his expression flat. “Exactly why I’m not taking it easy on him.”

I rubbed the back of my neck, sighing again. The last time Ethan and Colton had one of their brotherly spats, Ethan had skipped band practice for an entire week, which led to canceled gigs and more headaches than I cared to count.

Getting in the middle of their fights never ended well for me, so I left it at that.

Ethan shrugged, seeming to lose interest when I didn’t press the issue. Or maybe it was the pointed look Miles was giving us from the front of the hall, silently warning us to stop slacking.

Cooper cleared his throat, and the murmurs around the room quieted. “We all know how important this summit is. I don’t need to remind anyone that this is our first chance in over a decade to rebuild the ties we lost. These next few days aren’t just about tradition—they’re about showing the strength and unity of Pecan Pines.”

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