Page 73 of Found by the Pack

Maybe it’s my own cockiness talking, but I thought if anyone had a shot at Sadie, it was me. Guess I was wrong.

Boone’s not looking for a reaction, though—he’s looking for advice. His leg bounces like he’s wired on adrenaline instead of coffee. “I want to ask her out,” he says, and it’s not a question, it’s a declaration.

Shepard leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You just kissed her last night and you’re already jumping to asking her out? Boone, slow down. She’s—” He cuts himself off, like he’s choosing his words. “She’s not the type you rush.”

Boone’s jaw tightens. “She didn’t pull away.”

“That’s not the same as being ready,” Shepard says evenly.

I can see Boone gearing up for a defense, so I step in before this turns into an argument. “Look, you want my take? Go for it.”

That gets both their heads turning toward me.

“She’s been through a lot,” I continue, “but she’s also tough as hell. If she kissed you back—and it sounds like she did—then she’s making her own choices. You can’t bubble-wrap her forever.”

Boone frowns, glancing between us like he’s trying to gauge who’s got the better point. I don’t miss the way Shepard’s watching him, the hint of something tight around his eyes. And maybe I’m projecting, but it looks a lot like disappointment. Not in Boone exactly, but in the idea of Boone and Sadie together.

Which is interesting.

I keep that thought to myself, though, because the last thing we need is to turn this into some testosterone-driven pack pissing match.

“What do you even want out of this?” Shepard asks Boone.

He shrugs, but it’s not casual—it’s the kind of shrug you give when you’re trying to mask how much you care. “To get to know her better. To take her somewhere that’s not just work or murals or pack drama. To make her laugh again.”

And I believe him. Boone’s not the type to chase tail for the sake of it. If he’s saying this, it’s because Sadie’s gotten under his skin in a real way.

Shepard sighs, leaning back. “Then wait. Give her time. Don’t make her feel like she has to give you an answer right now.”

I shake my head. “And risk losing the window entirely? No. Life’s short. Ask her, Boone. Worst she says is no.”

Boone rubs a hand over his jaw, clearly torn. “You both are no help.”

“On the contrary,” I say, reaching for my coffee. “We’re giving you two perfectly reasonable options. It’s your call which one you screw up.”

Shepard smirks at that, but it’s faint, and his eyes drift toward the window like he’s thinking hard about something. And again, I wonder if I’m imagining that flicker of disappointment.

We talk it in circles for another twenty minutes, Boone volleying between our advice like he’s trying to build the perfect middle ground. Eventually, he stands, muttering something about needing to “clear his head” before his shift.

When he’s gone, I drain the rest of my coffee and glance at Shepard. “You’re really not thrilled about this, are you?”

He lifts a brow. “I just think she’s been through enough without having to navigate pack politics on top of it.”

“Maybe she’s the one deciding she’s ready to,” I say.

Shepard doesn’t argue, but he doesn’t agree either. And something tells me this isn’t the last conversation we’re going to have about Boone and Sadie.

Shepard sits there with that steady gaze that’s always been both comforting and unnerving—like he’s cataloging every twitch in my face for future reference.

Then he sets his mug down and says, “I did something bad.”

I raise a brow. “You? Bad? What, you misfiled a biography in the fiction section?”

His mouth quirks, but it doesn’t stick. “No. I… kind of have a crush on Sadie.”

I lean back, not surprised. “Shepard, that’s not exactly breaking news. It’s practically a known fact in this pack.”

He huffs out a laugh, short and self-deprecating. “Maybe. But Boone’s got a real shot with her, and… I think I’m supposed to let him take it.”