Page 15 of Love, Clumsily
“Robert Holloway,” the man said, ignoring his son and extending a hand to me. His grip was firm but carefully moderated, like he was conscious of his strength. “Alpha of the Pine Haven pack, though mostly that just means I get blamed when things go wrong.”
“Like father, like son,” I said without thinking, then winced. “I mean—”
But Robert roared with laughter, clapping me on the shoulder hard enough to make me stagger. “I like this one, Mason. Good choice.”
Over the next hour, I was introduced to so many pack members that their names and relationships began to blur together. There was Mason’s cousin Alex and his wife Tara; Riley’s girlfriend Jess, who was human like me but had been part of the pack for years; the elderly couple who weren’t actually related to anyone but had been pack friends for decades; and at least four children of various ages who raced through the house with more energy than should be physically possible.
Throughout it all, Mason stayed close, his hand on the small of my back or his arm around my shoulders, a constant reassuring presence. He clearly took pride in introducing me, his chest puffing slightly each time he said “my mate” (which was adorably frequent).
The atmosphere was chaotic but warm, the kind of comfortable family gathering I hadn’t experienced in years. My own family was small and scattered, our holiday gatherings formal and stilted. This—the noise, the laughter, the casual physical affection—was something new and wonderful.
By the time we sat down to eat, I was feeling more relaxed, though still hyperaware of being the newcomer. The dining table was enormous, clearly designed for a large pack, and laden with enough food to feed a small army—which, looking around at the werewolves piling their plates high, seemed about right.
“So, Julian,” Robert said once everyone was seated, “Mason tells us you’re a graphic designer?”
“Yes, sir,” I replied, then felt silly for the formality when Robert grinned.
“Just Robert, please. ‘Sir’ makes me feel ancient.”
“Sorry, si—Robert. Yes, I work remotely for a few different companies. Mostly website design and branding.”
“He’s really talented,” Mason said, his hand finding my thigh under the table and squeezing gently. “He showed me some of his work, and it’s amazing.”
The pride in his voice made me flush with pleasure.
“We could use someone with your skills,” Evelyn said thoughtfully. “The pack business could use a website update.”
“Pack business?” I asked, curious.
“Holloway Timber,” Alex explained from across the table. “The family lumber company. Sustainable forestry practices, been in the family for generations.”
“Werewolves in the lumber business,” I mused. “That’s… fitting.”
Laughter rippled around the table. “We like to think so,” Robert said. “Though it started more as a cover for why we spent so much time in the woods. Turned out we were pretty good at it.”
The conversation flowed easily after that, jumping from topic to topic with the organic rhythm of a family used to each other’s conversational habits. I was included seamlessly, asked questions and brought into discussions without any awkwardness.
As dinner progressed, though, I noticed a subtle shift in the atmosphere. The werewolves became more restless, their movements more animated, their laughter louder. Occasional glances went to the windows, where the light was beginning to fade.
“Sun’s setting soon,” Robert announced finally, pushing back from the table. “Time to prepare.”
There was an immediate flurry of activity—plates being cleared, children being herded, people dispersing to various parts of the house. Mason stood, pulling me up with him.
“Come on,” he said, his eyes already showing hints of gold around the edges. “I’ll show you where we’ll be staying tonight.”
He led me through the house to a back staircase and up to the second floor. The hallway was lined with doors, most closed, though I could hear movement behind several of them.
“Each family unit has their own space for full moons,” Mason explained as we walked. “Some prefer to shift outdoors right away, but most of us like some privacy for the transformation, especially the first one of the night.”
He stopped at a door near the end of the hall and opened it, revealing a spacious bedroom with a king-sized bed, an en-suite bathroom, and a private balcony overlooking the forest.
“This is my room,” he said, setting our bags down. “Or it was, before I got my own cabin on the property. I still use it for full moons.”
I moved to the balcony doors, looking out at the darkening forest. “It’s beautiful.”
Mason came up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his chin on my head. “Are you nervous about tonight?”
“A little,” I admitted. “What exactly happens during a full moon? I mean, I know you change, but… what’s it like?”
