Page 33 of Shift Happens
Chapter 17
The week following the full moon gathering passed in a comfortable blur. We fell back into our store routine, though subtle changes marked our new status. Milo seemed more settled in his human form, less prone to the nervous fidgeting that had characterized his early days. His clumsiness hadn’t disappeared entirely—he still knocked over a display of Funko figures while enthusiastically describing a new release to a customer—but he recovered with newfound grace.
“You seem different,” I observed one evening as we closed up shop. “More… integrated, somehow.”
He looked up from the register he was balancing with surprising accuracy. “The claiming ceremony helped,” he explained. “Having my dual nature formally acknowledged, having you accepted by the pack—it makes everything feel more legitimate. Like I don’t have to choose between worlds anymore.”
“I’m glad,” I said, genuinely happy to see him more comfortable in his skin. “Though I have to admit, I miss cleaning up after your disasters a little bit.”
He grinned, amber eyes gleaming. “Don’t worry. I’m sure I’ll find new ways to create chaos. It’s a natural talent.”
True to his word, he managed to spill an entire cup of coffee across our new shipment of manga the very next day, prompting an emergency hair dryer session that had us both laughing despite the potential inventory loss.
What surprised me most was how natural everything felt—working together during the day, sharing my apartment (which was now undeniably our apartment), planning for his next full moon. The bridge between our worlds was taking shape with surprising ease.
* * *
Two weeks after the gathering, we were enjoying a quiet Sunday morning—Milo reading a graphic novel while I caught up on inventory spreadsheets—when he suddenly looked up with an expression of inspiration.
“I have an idea,” he announced, setting aside his book. “Comic night for werewolves.”
I blinked, trying to follow his mental leap. “Come again?”
“Comic night. For my pack,” he clarified, growing more animated. “A special after-hours event at the store. We could introduce them to graphic storytelling, help them understand my human work better.”
“You want to host a werewolf book club in my comic store?” I asked, amused by his enthusiasm.
“Yes! Exactly!” He bounced slightly in his seat. “It would be perfect—a way to share my human world with them, just like you experienced my wolf world. The bridge goes both ways, right?”
His excitement was contagious. “It’s not a bad idea, actually. We could close early, make it private.”
“We could have themed selections—stories about transformation, about straddling different worlds.” His mind was clearly racing ahead. “And snacks. Wolves love snacks.”
“Raw meat might be a bit much for a bookstore environment,” I pointed out dryly.
“We can be civilized,” he assured me with mock indignation. “Mostly. Well, some of us.”
* * *
The idea took shape over the next few days. Milo contacted pack members who had expressed curiosity about his human life, while I prepared the store for our unusual event. We selected a range of comics and graphic novels that might appeal to shifter sensibilities—stories of transformation, of hidden identities, of finding belonging in unexpected places.
By the evening of the event, I was surprisingly nervous. This would be my first time hosting pack members in my territory, and despite the acceptance I’d received at the gathering, I wasn’t sure how they would respond to this aspect of Milo’s life.
“Relax,” Milo advised, sensing my tension as we arranged chairs in a circle. “They’re excited to come. Sadie herself is attending.”
“The alpha werewolf is coming to my comic book store,” I said, the absurdity of it suddenly striking me. “My life has taken some unexpected turns.”
He laughed, straightening a stack of selected readings. “In the best possible ways, I hope.”
“The very best,” I assured him, leaning down to kiss him briefly.
The first arrivals were Lucia and Arnold, Milo’s parents. Lucia embraced us both warmly while Arnold examined the store with careful attention, occasionally nodding in what I chose to interpret as approval.
“What a wonderful space,” Lucia exclaimed, turning in a slow circle to take in the carefully organized shelves. “So many stories, so much color and imagination.”
“Finn’s very particular about organization,” Milo informed her with a grin. “Everything has its exact place. Except when I rearrange based on ‘coolness factor,’ which drives him crazy.”
“That’s because ‘coolness factor’ is not a cataloging system,” I pointed out, falling into our familiar banter.
