Page 55 of Sawyer

Casey blinked, surprised.

“Meet everyone? Like… the whole pack?” Casey asked.

“Yeah,” I nodded. “Not all at once. Just a few people at lunch. Afterward, we could go for a hike in the woods and spend the afternoon together. What do you think?” I asked.

His eyes lit up at the mention of the woods, and I could see the wheels turning in his head.

“That sounds… amazing, actually,” Casey said.

I smiled, feeling a warmth spread through my chest.

“It’ll be fun. Benny would love it, too,” I told him.

Casey glanced down at Benny, who seemed to nod in agreement with his big eyes.

“I mean, how could I say no when Benny’s clearly on board?” he teased.

We both laughed, and the sound of it felt light, easy—like a fresh breeze on a hot summer day.

There was something so natural about the way we fit together, like two pieces of a puzzle finally clicking into place.

“I think you’ll like it,” I said, my voice dropping to a more serious tone. “It’s a big part of who I am, and… I want you to see that. To be a part of it.”

Casey’s expression softened, and he reached across the table to squeeze my hand.

“I’d like that. A lot,” he said.

His touch sent a surge of warmth up my arm, and I realized just how much I wanted this—him, us, the life we were starting to build together.

The pack was important to me, and so was Casey.

Bringing him into that world felt like the next step, and I knew it would be the right one.

We finished our drinks, and as we stepped outside, I felt lighter than I had in weeks.

Casey walked beside me, close enough that our shoulders brushed occasionally, and I couldn’t help but feel that everything was falling into place.

I was jolted awake by a sound, soft at first but unmistakable—a moan.

The kind that chilled my blood because I knew where it came from. Casey.

I blinked, disoriented for a second, my senses flaring as I sat up, muscles tensing, ready for a threat.

An intruder? Someone trying to hurt him?

But no. It was just Casey, curled up in one corner of the bed, gripping his arm tightly.

His face was twisted in distress, and his fingers clutched the scarred flesh as though he was trying to protect himself from some unseen enemy.

“Get away,” he muttered, his voice low, haunted.

The words hit me like a punch to the gut.

I knew exactly what was happening. Casey was dreaming—reliving something that I had no doubt came from his past.

The one he’d shared with his shifter ex. The bastard who hurt him.

My heart pounded in my chest, torn between wanting to shake him out of the nightmare and the sinking realization that this was something I couldn’t protect him from.

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