Allison
The library feels like neutral ground. Bright, public but quiet enough to hear yourself choose a word before you regret it. I check the study room door twice, put my notebook on the table, and write the title I promised myself I'd write;
Edges we don't cross.
Elijah knocks once and waits until I get the door. Hoodie, clean T-shirt, hands in his pockets. His eyes are calm, darker at the rim in the way that means his wolf is close but not forward. He doesn't step in until I move back.
"Thank you for meeting here," I say.
"Your call, your room," he says. He looks at the table instead of me like he's giving me time to change my mind. I don't.
I sit on the far side and turn the notebook so he can see. "Rules," I say. "Clear ones. We write them down, we both agree and
