Page 18 of Who Let The Wolves Out?

“Oh yeah?”

I nod. “You’re not just chaos.”

His grin spreads slow. “I mean, Iammostly chaos.”

“But there’s more.”

His eyes crinkle, and he steps just a little closer. “Careful, Barbie. Say one more nice thing and I’ll start thinkin’ you like me.”

I blush. Hard. “I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

The moment stretches between us—soft and electric.

And for once, I don’t look away.

That afternoon, we’re paired for the lakeside canoe activity.

I pretend not to notice how the kids keep giggling every time they see us in the same boat.

Jason pretends to not suck at paddling, but he 100% does.

“You’re steering us in circles,” I call, trying not to laugh.

“Correction,” he says, dramatically splashing water with his oar, “I’m creating a romantic atmosphere.”

“This isn’t The Notebook, Jason.”

“You say that, but you’re totally falling for me right now.”

“I’ve been hit in the face with three waves.”

“Nature’s way of slapping you into clarity.”

He grins so hard, it’s impossible not to smile back. And just like that, the ache in my chest feels... lighter.

Maybe I don’t have to keep guarding it so tightly.

Maybe, with Jason, I don’t have to guard it at all.

That evening, after the kids are tucked in—well, as much as nine-year-olds hopped up on s’mores can be—I find myself restocking the arts & crafts shed. It’s quiet. Peaceful. The kind of silence that lets you hear your own thoughts loud and clear.

Which is unfortunate, because my thoughts are allJason.

And sure enough, just as I’m trying to jam a stubborn box of googly eyes onto a too-high shelf, the door creaks open behind me.

“Hey.”

I don’t turn around. “Don’t you have a tree to howl at?”

He snorts. “Tried. It’s full. Got bumped by a couple of squirrels.”

I shake my head, smiling even though I don’t want to.

Jason steps closer. Too close. His presence fills the small shed like warm static. I can feel him behind me even before he speaks again.

“You good?”

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