Bearclaw Valley and i hit the ground running

Cole worked beside her, the weight of unspoken words pressing thick between them. He did not steal glances, did not reach to ease the space that had formed, knowing well enough that it was of his own making.
But when she finally looked at him—really looked—his breath hitched, just for a moment.
I’ve been good, she said. A simple answer. A polite lie. He recognized it because it was the same thing he would have said.
His jaw tightened, and he nodded, glancing down at his paws as he continued to help organize. Good. It’s been good. The words felt empty, but he said them anyway. He cleared his throat, shifting his weight, then nodded toward the carefully gathered gifts. It’s a… nice gesture.
His voice lacked the usual gruffness, the tension in it unmistakable. He could feel it, the way she avoided truly seeing him, the way she only gave him the barest threads of conversation. It was what he deserved, he knew that. And still—
He swallowed, the weight of what he’d done, what he’d chosen, pressing against him like a heavy stone. He could keep up the pleasantries. Keep the wall built between them. Or—
Listen— His voice wavered, and he hated that it did. He exhaled sharply through his nose, gathering himself, then tried again.
I— His throat worked around the words, his paws curling against the fur bundle at his side.
I’m sorry.
It left him rough, almost like a growl, but there was no anger in it. Only regret. Only the acknowledgment of something broken between them, something he could never quite put back the way it was.