Page 28

JASON

I don’t usually do grand gestures.

I’m more of a “show up with snacks and bad jokes” kind of guy.

But for Alice?

I’ll move heaven and pine trees if I have to.

So tonight, I do something big.

Not huge.

Just big enough to be hers.

I borrow half the solar jars from the nature shed and string them along the lakeside trail that leads from our cabin to the fire circle.

Hazel catches me setting it up and mutters, “You owe me a week’s worth of s’mores,” before zipping off with a sparkle charm.

I plant wildflowers around the tree where I first tried to climb shirtless in front of Alice and failed spectacularly. It felt poetic.

And then, when the last firefly jar is lit and the air smells like pine needles and cinnamon from the bonfire logs I dragged down just for ambiance.

I go get her.

“Close your eyes,” I say, hands over her shoulders, guiding her down the moonlit path.

She giggles, which instantly makes my chest feel like it’s gonna burst. “Is this where you propose a secret camp-wide glitter war?”

“Nope. Better.”

“Better than glitter?” she teases.

“Infinitely.”

When we round the last bend, I step in front of her and gently lift my hands away.

She opens her eyes.

And gasps.

The entire clearing glows. Lanterns float in the air. The trees shimmer with soft golden light. The lake glistens behind us, quiet and still.

“Oh… Jason,” she whispers.

I lead her to the center—our blanket, our mugs, and a basket with her favorite biscuits and peach jam.

“It’s beautiful,” she says, voice cracking slightly.

“It’s for you.”

We sit.

She clutches the mug I hand her like she needs something to hold onto.

“I needed a way to say something,” I start, rubbing my arm. “Something big. But also real.”

She watches me with those soft, sea-glass eyes, and I swear I lose all sense of cool.

“You saved me, Alice.”

She blinks. “Jason?—”

“No, listen.” I shift so I’m fully facing her. “I was fine being the chaotic, mostly-shirtless wolf man at summer camp. But you— you —you made me want roots. You made me want more. And that scared the crap out of me.”

She laughs a little, tears already welling.

I swallow hard. “But I’m not scared anymore.”

I reach into the little basket and pull out something wrapped in linen. Slowly, I unwrap it.

A silver charm bracelet.

Nothing fancy. Just hand-carved wood and a single tiny wolf tooth inlaid with a crystal Alice gave me on our first night hike.

Her hand flies to her mouth.

“I love you, Alice. Full stop. No conditions. No take-backs.”

I take her hand, press the bracelet into her palm.

“And I want you to be my mate. My partner. The woman I howl for.”

She’s full-on crying now.

I pull her hand to my lips. “Will you?”

She doesn’t say anything.

She launches into me, wrapping her arms around my neck, kissing me so fiercely I forget how to breathe.

“Yes,” she whispers against my mouth. “Yes. A thousand times yes.”

We sit there for a long time, tangled together on the blanket in the glow of our little lakeside world. I’ve still got one more surprise tucked in my hoodie pocket, and my fingers brush against it as she curls into my side, cheeks still damp with happy tears.

“I, uh…” I clear my throat, suddenly nervous again. “So, shifters don’t really do rings. Traditionally, we kind of just… mark our mates in different ways.”

Alice lifts her head, blinking up at me. “Like with teeth?”

I cough. “I mean, sometimes. But that’s more of a private ritual.”

She snorts and buries her face in my chest. “Okay, okay. Go on.”

I pull the little pouch from my pocket and hand it to her.

She opens it carefully—and laughs.

“Oh my god.”

Inside is a ring.

Sort of.

It’s made of braided camp friendship cord, interwoven with copper wire, a little clear crystal nestled in the center like a promise. A leaf charm dangles delicately from one side.

“I raided the arts and crafts shed,” I say, a little sheepish. “Hazel said it’s a ‘soulbond aesthetic,’ whatever that means.”

Alice cradles it like it’s made of gold. “Jason. This is—this is perfect.”

“I know it’s not a real ring, but I figured… you’re human. It might mean something. And I wanted you to have it. From me.”

She slips it onto her finger like it belongs there. “It means everything. ”

Her eyes meet mine. “You really made this?”

“Every glue-gun burn was worth it.”

She kisses me, sweet and slow.

“I love it. I love you. ”

And as we sit beneath the stars, the soft sounds of the lake lapping at the shore, her hand in mine with that crooked, mismatched ring shining like a jewel?—

I know I’ve given her a piece of my soul.

And she’s given me all of hers.

Later, after Alice’s head has drifted to my shoulder and the night air turns cooler, I glance out over the lake, the trees, the crooked cabins lit dim with bedtime enchantments.

The wind shifts, carrying the faint sounds of laughter from the older kids down by the amphitheater. One of them shouts something about a raccoon stealing their cloak.

I smile.

And I realize—this camp?

This ridiculous, magical, chaotic patch of forest?

It’s given me everything I never knew I wanted.

A place to belong.

A purpose.

A pack.

And her.