8. Casey

Chapter 8

Casey

" I know their new lead alpha. I used to teach him in grade school; he's a good kid," an older man said, leaning forward.

"That was almost twenty years ago. You never know. People change," someone countered skeptically.

"Ah, who cares what the difference is between this new lead alpha and the old one? It doesn't concern us. As long as those shifters don't cause trouble in my store, they're just another paying customer," another added dismissively.

"Speak for yourself. My sandwich shop is right in front of that second-hand bookstore. After they trashed the place, there were barely any customers—shifters or humans—coming into my shop," a frustrated shop owner shot back.

"No one comes to your place because your sandwiches are terrible," someone else quipped, earning a round of chuckles.

The chatter grew louder, devolving into an argument about which place in town made the best sandwiches.

Other than making me hungry—since Chris and I had come straight here after work—this "meeting", if you could even call it that, was giving me a headache.

How many times had the discussion veered off-topic? What was even on the agenda?

Supposedly, this was meant to discuss how the change in leadership among the shifters could affect the human-owned businesses and residents of the town.

Everyone seemed to wonder whether things would stay the same or if there would be changes. But instead of a constructive conversation, it had turned into a complaining session.

The older residents, who had lived here longer, seemed to take a "go with the flow" attitude. To them, it was just another pack alpha change—something to get used to and move on from.

The younger crowd, or those like me who had just moved to town or had more unfortunate experiences with the previous lead alpha's men, were more concerned.

"There has to be something in place in case they tear up another shop!" a young woman with a worried expression called out, her voice rising with urgency.

The chatter grew even louder, with the room feeling like it was spiraling in a single direction.

The more vocal, dissatisfied voices began to dominate, feeding off each other's frustrations. It felt like a hive mind taking shape.

Though nothing major had happened since the incident at Miles' bookstore, the mood was shifting.

I felt a surge of irritation as I listened to the increasingly one-sided complaints.

It was as if everyone was lumping all shifters into one basket, painting them with the same broad, negative brush.

Sure, I could think of a few unpleasant ones—a certain landlord came to mind—but my interactions with shifters over the past year had been pretty limited.

So, I wasn't the best judge of their character, but I knew enough to recognize that not all of them were the problem.

Some, like Mrs. Hill or Miles, were genuinely good people. My thoughts briefly drifted to Sawyer before I caught myself.

Before I realized it, I was on my feet. The room fell silent, every eye fixed on me.

"I need to say something," I began, my voice trembling slightly but growing steadier as I spoke. "Not all shifters are like the ones you're talking about. Most of them are nice and friendly."

I hesitated; a wave of heat crept up my neck and into my cheeks, but now I couldn't stop. "In fact, some of them are really considerate... they notice things that might seem small, like remembering your coffee order."

I cleared my throat, realizing I might've said too much. "Anyway, it doesn't make sense that we're having this discussion without any shifters here. If we're going to talk about this, why not invite some of them? How can we have a dialogue without hearing both sides? All this complaining won't lead to anything if we're just sitting here among ourselves."

The room remained dead silent, their eyes still fixed on me.

Slowly, I sat back down, my legs feeling like jelly.

Chris raised his hand as if he was about to start clapping, but I grabbed it, stopping him just in time. A low murmur began to spread through the room.

"That felt like a slow clap moment," Chris whispered, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Shut up," I muttered, sinking deeper into my chair, wishing I could disappear as a few more people glanced our way, undoubtedly curious about my little speech.

"That bit about remembering your coffee order seemed oddly specific," Chris continued, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. "Did someone do that for you?"

"Please shut up," I groaned, covering my face with my hands. I silently thanked the universe that Lisa wasn't there to add fuel to the fire.

"Fine," Chris said, leaning back, though his grin remained. "But seriously, what's gotten into you?"

I didn't answer him. I was still in shock. What had I just done?

I couldn't decide which was more surprising—standing up in front of a crowd and giving a speech out of nowhere, or the fact that I had defended shifters, considering my past.

An older man's voice broke through my thoughts. "Young man, what do you suggest?"

It took me a moment to realize he was talking to me. Chris gave me a hard poke in the ribs, snapping me back to reality.

Still dazed from what I had just done, I found myself standing again before I could even process it.

"I—uh—I know a shifter who's high up in the pack hierarchy," I stammered. "I'll bring him to the next meeting."

Before I could collapse, Chris yanked me back down into my seat. My knees were threatening to give out entirely.

"What did you just do?" Chris asked, his voice a mix of disbelief and amusement.

What the heck did I just do?

I spent the rest of the night after that disastrous meeting tossing and turning, wondering how I could possibly ask Sawyer to come to the next one.

It wasn't like I could just shoot him a quick text and say, "Hey, mind being the spokesperson for all the Pecan Pines shifters?" Right?

Would he have to run it by his lead alpha? Did the pack even know the humans in town were having meetings about them?

And if they didn't, how would they react to finding out about it now?

This definitely wasn't something I could handle through a text or call. It needed to happen face-to-face.

Still, I had seriously considered texting him last night. But a 2 a.m. "Come over" request could definitely send the wrong message.

So, after a sleepless night, I decided to wait for morning.

It was Thursday, and the last time Sawyer had come by the shop with Benny was also a Thursday morning. There was a decent chance he might walk in any minute.

If he didn't show up by lunchtime, I'd ask him out for coffee—or maybe dinner. Either way, I needed to talk to him.

I grabbed my phone and started drafting a text, my mind racing with what I wanted to say when the door swung open. I looked up, quickly deleting the half-finished message.

"Hey there, handsome! Good to see you," I greeted, trying to keep my voice steady, even though my nerves were clearly getting the better of me.

Was my voice higher than usual? I hoped not.

"Well, thanks. Good to see you too." Sawyer smiled warmly, but his eyes carried a more serious vibe as they swept around the room.

His smile faded slightly as he continued scanning the space, like he was looking for something.

"I was talking to Benny," I joked, bending down to pick up the dachshund.

It was my way of addressing him first, giving me a moment to gather my thoughts before diving into whatever conversation lay ahead.

Sawyer chuckled, following me as I carried Benny over to the grooming table, setting him up for his usual session.

But Sawyer kept glancing around the room, his gaze sharp and focused. I couldn't help but notice how distracted he seemed. Something was clearly bothering him.

"Is Garth here or coming by later?" he finally asked.

I raised an eyebrow, not sure why he was suddenly bringing up Garth. "No, Garth's not coming by."

I'd already handled the rent a few days ago, sending a check in the mail just like I used to with Mrs. Hill. With that done, I figured I wouldn't have to deal with Garth for a while.

Sawyer's eyes darted around. I could tell he was uneasy.

I couldn't help but ask, "Why are you looking for Garth? Shouldn't you know where he is, being in the same pack and all?"

I meant it as a lighthearted jab, but Sawyer didn't laugh. Instead, he shifted in his seat, looking a bit uncomfortable.

"Well," he started, hesitating, "I heard that Garth might be coming by for... a date with you."

I blinked, caught off guard by his words. Then the sheer absurdity of it hit me, and I burst out laughing—a little too loudly.

The idea of Garth and me going on a date? No way.

As the laughter died down, an uneasy silence settled between us. I caught a glimpse of Sawyer's serious expression, and a twinge of guilt crept in as I wiped a tear from the corner of my eye.

"Sorry. It's just... the idea of me and Garth going out? It's ridiculous." I gave him a more genuine smile, hoping to lighten the mood. But I hesitated, knowing I had something more serious to say.

"Actually, it's you I wanted to see. There's something I need to talk to you about." I took a breath, my heart racing a little.

Sawyer's curiosity deepened, though a hint of concern flickered in his eyes. "What is it?"

I told him about the town meeting, explaining everything. When I finished, I added, "I might have... volunteered you to come to the next one."

Sawyer raised an eyebrow. "Volunteered me?"

"Yeah," I admitted, running a hand through my hair. "I wasn't really thinking clearly, and now I'm worried it could cause issues with your pack. I'm really sorry about that."

He studied me for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, to my surprise, his lips quirked into a grin. "How will you make it up to me?"

I blinked, completely caught off guard. I'd expected more questions about the meeting, maybe even some frustration. But instead, Sawyer seemed amused.

"I—uh, I'm not sure yet," I stammered. "But I'll figure something out. I promise I'll make it up to you."

Sawyer's grin widened, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Anything?"

A nervous laugh slipped out before I could stop it. "Yeah, sure, anything," I replied, even though I wasn't entirely sure what I was agreeing to.