Page 15 of Falling for My Shifter Defender

But my wolf doesn't care about timeframes. It recognizes what's happening even if I'm reluctant to name it. These two—the fierce, guarded woman and her bright-eyed little sister—they belong here. With me. And every part of me wants them to stay.

I drive into town with purpose, parking outside the small shopping center that serves Whispering Pines. Inside, I move with uncharacteristic focus, filling a cart with items I've mentally cataloged over the past few days. A proper dresser for Grace, since she's still living out of a duffel bag.

A small bookshelf for Willow's growing collection of library books.

A nightlight shaped like a crescent moon.

Pantry staples I've noticed Grace reaching for—cinnamon for her coffee, a specific brand of pasta, the honey she stirs into Willow's tea when the little girl can't sleep.

I pause in front of a display of throw blankets, running my fingers over a soft lavender one. Grace wraps herself in the threadbare one from the couch every night, curling into the corner with a book. This one is plush, comforting. I add it to the cart.

At the craft store, I find a watercolor paint set that makes me think of Willow's wide-eyed fascination with colors. At the nursery next door, a small potted plant with delicate green leaves catches my eye. Something alive. Something rooted.

Every choice is deliberate. Every item is a quiet invitation:stay.

I pick up Grace's coffee mug from the counter where she left it this morning, my thumb brushing over the lipstick mark on the rim. The faint scent of her lingers on it—vanilla and somethinguniquely hers. Something that makes my chest tighten with a longing I haven't felt in years. Maybe ever.

I set the mug down, suddenly aware of how much I'm crossing my own carefully drawn lines. I've never been the type to get attached. To want someone to stay. But with Grace and Willow, everything is different.

???

By the time I hear Grace's car in the driveway, I've arranged everything with careful casualness. The dresser is assembled in her room, the bookshelf in Willow's. The other items are still in their bags, waiting on the kitchen counter.

The front door opens, and Willow bursts in first, her face flushed with excitement.

"Eli! Miss Jenna taught me how to make friendship bracelets, and I made one for you!" She bounds over, thrusting a woven band of blue and green threads toward me. "It matches your eyes!"

I kneel down, accepting the gift with exaggerated reverence. "This is the best present I've ever gotten," I tell her, and I'm not even lying. I slip it onto my wrist, and her face lights up.

Grace follows more slowly, setting her bag on the counter. She looks tired but satisfied, her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. There's a smudge of ink on her cheek that she hasn't noticed.

"How was work?" I ask, straightening.

"Good." She offers a small smile. "Theo's actually letting me reorganize their entire filing system. It's a disaster."

"Sounds like you're having fun," I tease.

She rolls her eyes, but the smile lingers. "It's nice to be useful."

I start pulling ingredients from the fridge. "Hungry?"

"Starving," Willow announces, climbing onto a stool at the counter. "Can I help?"

"Absolutely." I hand her a colander of green beans. "Can you snap the ends off these?"

She nods solemnly, taking the task with complete seriousness.

Grace watches us for a moment, something unreadable in her expression, before she moves to wash her hands. "I'll help with the chicken."

We work together in easy rhythm, moving around each other in the small kitchen. Her arm brushes mine as she reaches for a knife, and I catch the slight hitch in her breath. We both pause for a fraction of a second before continuing as if nothing happened.

Willow chatters about her day, about the women who showed her how to braid hair and the cookies they baked. Grace interjects occasionally, asking questions, while I flip the chicken in the skillet.

"Miss Hannah said she could show me how to shift when I'm older," Willow says, eyes bright with excitement.

I notice Grace's hand tighten around her glass, her knuckles whitening. She sets it down with a too-careful motion, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. "That's nice of her, baby. But we don't know when that will happen."

Willow's face falls slightly. "But I want to learn. Miss Hannah says I should be able to soon."

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