The meadow stretched wide, drenched in sunlight, wildflowers bowing under the lazy summer breeze. You’d insisted—no patrols, no pack business, no sulking in garages. A picnic. A demand, not a request. And somehow, impossibly, the two biggest forces in your life had obeyed.

Paul sprawled against the grass, dark sunglasses on, looking like a predator forced into domesticity. He had one arm braced behind him, the other reaching lazily into the basket only to steal food he hadn’t packed. Every move was deliberate, possessive—his knee brushing yours, his shoulder angled so you felt the weight of his presence. His smirk was pure provocation.

Embry, on the other hand, was stretched out on your other side, long limbs tangled in the grass as if he belonged there. He plucked a honeycreeper feather you’d kept as a keepsake from your pocket when you weren’t looking, twirling it between his fingers with maddening ease. His laugh was easy, unbothered, but his eyes—warm, sharp, fixed on you—made it clear he was playing the long game.

“Didn’t think a picnic would work for me,” Paul muttered, pulling the lid off your coffee thermos and sniffing it with a wrinkle of his nose. “But I’ll admit, watching you boss us around like a queen of the meadow? Not the worst way to spend an afternoon.”

“Not the worst?” Embry’s brow shot up, mock-scandalized as he flicked a blade of grass at Paul. “She drags us out here, lays down this spread, makes us behave like civilized human beings for once—and you call it ‘not the worst’? I call it perfect.”

Paul scoffed, but his hand slid along the grass until his fingers brushed your thigh, deliberate. “Perfect would be you shutting up for five minutes.”

Embry only grinned wider, leaning on his elbow to look at you directly. “Perfect would be her finally admitting which one of us she likes better.”

The meadow went quiet for a breath. Both of them—two wolves circling, two souls locked on yours—waiting, hungry for the answer. The air seemed to tighten, a tug-of-war invisible but suffocating.

And you? Sitting there between them, lilac hoodie catching the sun, coffee warm in your hands—you had both. The fire and the calm. The storm and the anchor. Two men devoted to you, ready to tear the world in half if you asked.

The meadow was bright. The air smelled of grass, wildflowers, and Paul’s cologne mingling with Embry’s soap. And for the first time, you felt the balance tip in your favor.