Chapter 68

Addy’s POV

“Tow truck to Damien’s driveway,” I’d declared like a mission commander, even though my car had just staged its own roadside protest. My poor Honda had more health issues than a stereotype about werewolves—and here I was, very nearly stranded without wheels. My job hunt needed to move faster than my break-fix bike ever could. Unless I risked commandeering Damien’s truck—but no way was I borrowing that unless someone shot out puppy-dog eyes at me first.

I’d been coasting on gut instinct since Day One of this “instant platonic marriage” stunt, and, not gonna lie, trusting my gut hadn’t been a total disaster. Yet. But my gut also felt like it was being sent through a wood chipper every time I thought about Next Steps. What did “Next Steps” even look like? Kissing—platonic—on a beach? Learning to fold fitted sheets together? Becoming a blended family of grinning absurdity? Terrifying.

Rocky padded beside me through Damien’s back door, nose twitching.