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The fire in the cabin crackled softly, but Isaac still sat on the couch with his hands buried in his sleeves.
Scott knelt in front of him, tugging his hands free. “Your hands are so cold.”
Isaac gave him a half-smile, voice low. “Guess the werewolf thing doesn’t cover bad circulation.”
Scott frowned, wrapping Isaac’s fingers in his own. “You should’ve said something sooner.” Isaac was already feeling better.
“I’m fine,” Isaac murmured, but he didn’t pull away.
Scott shook his head. “No, you’re not. Next time, just tell me.”
The softness in his tone unraveled Isaac’s defenses. “Yeah … okay.”