Page 20 of Shift Happens
“I’d like that,” I said, realizing I wasn’t ready for our weekend to end either.
His apartment was sparsely furnished but cozy, with a surprising number of books and comics neatly arranged on simple shelves. What caught my attention, though, was the corner of the living room that had been transformed into what could only be described as a nest—blankets and pillows arranged in a circular formation, with what looked like some of my old t-shirts woven into the structure.
Milo followed my gaze and had the grace to look embarrassed. “That’s, um… a wolf thing. We make dens. It helps me sleep.”
“Are those my shirts?” I asked, recognizing a faded comic convention tee from years ago.
His blush deepened. “You left some at the store. They smell like you. It’s… comforting.”
Instead of being weird, I found it endearing. “Milo the shirt thief. Who would have guessed?”
He smiled sheepishly. “I would have asked, but explaining why I wanted your clothes seemed awkward.”
“Slightly less awkward than me discovering your shirt shrine, I suppose.”
“It’s not a shrine!” he protested. “It’s a comfort nest. Totally different.”
I laughed, pulling him into my arms. “It’s cute. You’re cute.”
He made a face. “Wolves aren’t supposed to be cute. We’re supposed to be fearsome predators.”
“Mmm, terrifying,” I agreed, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I’m quaking in my boots.”
His response was to nip at my jaw, just hard enough to make me gasp. “Don’t mock the wolf,” he warned, though his eyes were playful.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I murmured, lowering my head to capture his lips.
What began as a playful kiss quickly deepened, the intensity of the weekend catching up to us. Milo’s hands slipped under my shirt, exploring with newfound confidence.
“Stay tonight?” he asked against my lips. “Please?”
“Are you sure?” I pulled back slightly to see his face. “We don’t have to rush anything.”
His expression grew serious. “I’ve spent most of my life in wolf form, Finn. Now that I’ve found something—someone—that makes me want to be human, I don’t want to waste time with unnecessary caution.”
The simple honesty of his statement took my breath away. “When you put it that way, how can I refuse?”
His smile was answer enough.
Later, tangled together in his nest of blankets (which was surprisingly comfortable), I watched moonlight play across Milo’s sleeping face. One day, I would need to process the fact that I was falling for a wolf shifter who stole my shirts andcouldn’t operate a coffee machine. But for now, with his warm weight pressed against me and his soft breath against my neck, all I could think was how perfectly he fit—not just against my body, but into my life.
The orderly, predictable existence I’d carefully maintained had been thoroughly disrupted, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Chapter 10
“A little to the left,” Milo directed, head tilted critically. “No, your left. That’s your right. Humans and directional confusion, I swear.”
I adjusted the framed vintage comic poster, shooting him an exasperated look over my shoulder. “Says the wolf who regularly gets lost between the storeroom and the register.”
“That’s different,” he insisted. “The store has too many smell-confusing things. This is just basic directions.”
“Remind me never to let you navigate on a road trip,” I muttered, finally getting the frame level.
Two months into our relationship, and Milo had practically moved into my apartment above the store. It had happened gradually—a toothbrush appearing in my bathroom, clothes migrating to my dresser, his favorite mug taking permanent residence beside the coffee maker he was finally learning to operate without disaster.
The latest development was what Milo called “proper den establishment”—rearranging furniture, adding more comfortable seating options, and hanging art that appealed to both of us. Hence the Saturday afternoon spent mounting posters and shelves under his very particular direction.
“Perfect,” he declared as I secured the final screw. “Now it feels right.”
