Wolfe’s POV.

“Oh, I’m so terrible at this,” Makenna groaned next to me with a shaky laugh as the clay collapsed onto itself.

The studio was bathed in warm, natural light, the kind that makes the dust particles dance lazily in the air. I watched Makenna sitting at the pottery wheel, her hands covered in wet clay, staring at the lopsided mess in front of her with a look of pure frustration. She let out a groan that made me chuckle.

“I think I’ve created a new ...