Chapter 29
TWENTY-NINE
DAHLIA
Aknock at the door interrupted whatever Dahlia might have said next.
Junie jumped up immediately. “That’ll be Rosemary. Her equipment shipment got delayed, and she’s stuck in town another night. I told her we were here.”
Rosemary. Junie’s cousin—the marine biologist who’d met Beck at Junie and Leo’s mating reception. The woman who’d spent three weeks with a wolf shifter before sailing away to the Pacific, leaving behind heartbreak on both sides.
The door opened. Rosemary Reed stepped through, and Dahlia understood immediately why Beck Driscoll hadn’t been himself for months.
She was striking in a windswept, practical way—auburn hair several shades darker than Junie’s, pulled back in a loose braid that had surrendered to the coastal wind.
The same scattering of freckles across her nose, the same sharp intelligence in her features, but where Junie was chaos and fire, Rosemary was steady currents and deep waters.
She moved with the balanced confidence of someone who’d spent years on boats, sure-footed even on solid ground.
But weariness shadowed those green eyes. A hollowness beneath the practical competence. The look of someone who’d been running from something so long, they’d forgotten there was another option.
Dahlia recognized that look. She’d seen it in her own face more times than she could count.
“Sorry, I’m late.” Rosemary dropped onto the couch beside Junie, accepting a wine glass with a grateful nod. “The repair shop is moving at glacial speed. At this rate, I’ll miss my own expedition.”
“Would that be so terrible?” Cassia asked, her tone too innocent to be genuine.
Rosemary’s expression flickered—a flash of longing before she locked it down behind professional composure. “It’s my job, Cass. It’s what I do.”
“Jobs can be changed.”
“Drop it.” The words came out sharper than intended. Rosemary softened immediately, guilt crossing her features. “Sorry. I—can we talk about literally anything else? Junie said there was drama happening.”
“Dahlia’s falling for a bear shifter,” Avine summarized with characteristic directness. “Cal Ursa. The one who came back to take over his grandfather’s sleuth.”
“Oh.” Rosemary’s eyebrows rose. “The one in the expensive suits? I ran into him at the hardware store last week. He looked like he’d been burning candles at both ends for a decade.”
“That’s the one,” Dahlia confirmed, a helpless laugh escaping.
“Huh.” Rosemary took a long sip of wine, considering. “Well. At least he’s not a wolf.”
The silence that followed was deafening.
Junie reached over and squeezed her cousin’s hand. Avine looked away. Cassia found her wine glass fascinating. And Dahlia watched Rosemary’s carefully controlled expression and saw her own fears reflected back—the terror of wanting what you weren’t sure you could have.
“He asks about you.” The words slipped out before Dahlia could stop them. “Beck. Every time he stops by. He tries to be casual about it, but—”
“Don’t.” Rosemary’s voice cracked. “Please. I can’t—” She pressed a hand to her eyes, breathing through whatever was clawing at her composure.
“I have a grant. A career. A whole life that doesn’t fit in a small coastal town.
And he can’t leave. His pack is here. His whole world is here.
We’re—” A shaky exhale. “We’re impossible. ”
“So is Cal and me,” Dahlia said. “He has a company in Seattle. I have a bakery I can’t abandon. My grandmother’s legacy. Everything I’ve built. We’re impossible too.”
Rosemary lowered her hand. Her green eyes met Dahlia’s, glittering with unshed tears.
“Then what are you going to do about it?”
Dahlia didn’t have an answer. But looking at Rosemary—at the longing she was fighting so hard to suppress—she knew one thing with absolute certainty.
She didn’t want to spend her life wondering what-if.
The conversation shifted after that—lighter topics, easier territory.
Cassia complained about her mother’s latest matchmaking attempts, launching into an impression of the witch Elder that had everyone laughing.
Junie described a new potion formula that had accidentally turned Leo’s kitchen ceiling bright orange.
Avine shared updates on the inn’s renovations and the new guest suites finally coming along.
But Dahlia couldn’t focus. Her mind kept drifting back to Cal—the rawness in his face when he’d woken up. The way he’d said, I see all of it, and I want all of it. The unsettling possibility that Narla was right, that irreversible forces were already in motion between them.
Around ten, Rosemary gathered her jacket and made her excuses—an early morning video call with her research team.
At the door, she paused, hand on the frame. Her back was still to the room when she said, quietly, “Tell him. Whatever you need to say. Don’t wait until you run out of time.”
She was gone before anyone could ask who she was really talking to.
That left Avine, Junie, Narla, and Marzipan—who had descended from her perch to curl in Dahlia’s lap, claiming possession with the imperious confidence only a cat could manage.
“All right.” Avine eased deeper into the sofa cushions, tucking her feet beneath her. “Everyone else has gone. Now tell us what you’re feeling.”
Dahlia stroked Marzipan’s fur, letting the cat’s presence ground her. “I don’t know how to answer that.”
“Yes, you do.” Junie’s voice was gentle but unyielding. “You don’t want to say it out loud. Because once you give it words, it becomes real, and then you have to deal with it.”
“Speaking from experience?”
“Obviously.” A crooked grin softened the chaos witch’s features.
“I spent weeks pretending I wasn’t falling for Leo.
Picked fights with him constantly. Pushed him away every time he got close.
Nearly destroyed my grandmother’s legacy because I was too scared to admit I wanted what I didn’t think I deserved. ”
“And now?”
“Now I wake up every morning next to a man who makes me feel like the most important person in the world. Who sees all my chaos and mess and sharp edges and chooses me anyway.” Junie’s expression went soft, unguarded in a way Dahlia had never seen before Leo.
“It’s terrifying. Every single day. But it’s also the best thing that’s ever happened to me. ”
Avine nodded. “Theo and I were the same. So much between us. So many reasons it shouldn’t work.
I was convinced I’d ruin it—that I wasn’t capable of being what he needed, what an alpha’s mate should be.
” She reached out, her hand finding Dahlia’s.
“But mate bonds don’t care about your fears or your logic or your carefully constructed reasons why it won’t work. They are.”
Marzipan butted her head against Dahlia’s wrist, warm and deliberate.
“Then let him see you.” Narla rose, moving toward the door with her characteristic grace. She paused at the threshold, looking back with those dark, knowing eyes.
She slipped out into the night. Ember hooted softly as they disappeared.
Junie and Avine exchanged a look—that silent communication of old friends who understood each other without words. Then Junie stood, stretching.
“We should go. Let you get some sleep.” She bent to kiss Dahlia’s forehead, the gesture achingly maternal. “For what it’s worth? I think he already sees you. The question is whether you’re brave enough to let him keep looking.”
Avine hugged her tightly, whispering against her ear, “You deserve this. You deserve to want things for yourself. Stop trying to talk yourself out of it.”
And then they were gone, and Dahlia was alone with her cat, her racing thoughts, and the lingering scent of wine and magic and friendship.