The Humvee’s engine hummed low as we pulled away from the Harcourts’ parsonage. Gabriel kept both hands on the wheel, headlights cutting through the Cape night, the trees and quiet houses slipping past. For the first time all evening, it was just us again.
Neither of us spoke for a while. My head was still full — of Betty’s laugh, Philip’s steady voice, the way the Harcourt kids crowded around like a real pack. The smell of roast chicken and apple pie lingered in my nose. Home. A real home.
Gabriel finally exhaled, long and heavy. “Damn.”
I glanced over. “Yeah.”
His grip tightened on the steering wheel. “When his mom hugged me… I didn’t know what to do. I can’t even remember the last time somebody did that without… I dunno, without it feeling forced or fake.”
I stared out the window, jaw tight. “Same. My mom—” I cut myself off, shaking my head. “Doesn’t matter. Betty Harcourt… she meant it. You could feel it.”
“Yeah,” Gabriel said softly. “And his dad… he looked at us like… like we were worth something.”
The words landed heavy in my chest. I remembered Philip’s handshake, the calm in his eyes, the way he thanked us for being Mark’s friends — like we’d done something noble, instead of just… being wolves doing what wolves do.
I let out a rough laugh, more bitter than I meant. “We scare the hell out of half the school, and here’s this pastor thanking us for watching out for his kid. What kind of upside-down world is that?”
Gabriel shook his head. “Not upside-down. Just… different. Better.”
We drove in silence a few more miles, the tires humming on the asphalt. Finally, Gabriel said, “Thane… that’s the first time I’ve felt like I belonged anywhere. Even for a couple hours.”
I didn’t answer right away. My throat was too tight. I just reached over and rested a hand on his shoulder. He shot me a glance — just enough of a look to say he got it.
The rest of the ride to his house was quiet, but it wasn’t empty. It was full — of something we hadn’t had in a long time. Maybe ever.