22. Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Two
I ran my fingers along one of the workbenches, the smooth, aged wood warm beneath my touch. A hush blanketed the space—quiet in the way only nature and glass walls could create. I turned in a slow circle, taking in the filtered sunlight dancing across the floor, the delicate perfume of soil and dried herbs still lingering in the air.
“So pretty,” I murmured, more to myself than to him. But Gabriel was watching me, leaning against the far bench with his arms crossed, looking like he belonged in every room he entered—still, grounded, deliberate.
"It suits you," he said quietly, those blue eyes studying me with an intensity that made my skin warm. "The way you move in this space... it's like you already belong here."
I looked away, suddenly self-conscious under his gaze. "Plants have always been my safe place. Flowers, especially. They make sense to me in a way people often don't."
Gabriel nodded, pushing himself off the workbench to join me at the center island. "How so?"
I traced the grain of the wood, considering how to explain something that felt so intrinsic to my being. "Flowers are honest. They need what they need—sun, water, soil—and they either thrive or they don't. No pretense, no hidden agendas." I glanced up at him with a small smile. "And when they communicate, it's always clear if you know how to listen."
Gabriel took a step closer, his presence warm without being intrusive. "And what are they saying now?" he asked, his voice soft in the quiet of the greenhouse.
I let my fingers drift over a small cluster of succulents nestled in a forgotten corner. "These little ones? They're saying they've been neglected but they're survivors. Resilient." I smiled, touching a pale green leaf. "That's what I love about plants—they find a way to thrive even in difficult circumstances."
"Like a certain Omega I know," Gabriel observed, his gaze steady on my face.
The comparison caught me off guard, and I felt heat rise to my cheeks. "I wouldn't call what I'm doing thriving, exactly. Surviving, maybe."
“I think you don’t give yourself enough credit.” Gabriel told me, his lip twitching into what seemed like a found smile.
I tilted my head at this, “Maybe. But it is just how I feel about it.” I was being honest. I didn’t feel like I was thriving, just going along day by day and surviving.
The two of us sat in silence as I fluttered around looking at what was in the greenhouse.
"She would have liked you," he said out of the blue, the words carrying a weight that made my heart flutter unexpectedly. "She was independent too. Fierce about her passions."
I smiled, touched by the comparison. "Your mother…tell me more about her.”
Gabriel's expression softened, memories flickering behind his eyes as he leaned against the workbench. "Her name was Eleanor. She was brilliant—a botanist with a specialty in rare plants. This greenhouse was her laboratory, her studio, her sanctuary." He gestured around us. "Every inch of this place used to burst with life. Orchids hanging from the rafters, experimental hybrids lined up in neat rows, medicinal herbs that she cultivated for research."
I could almost see it—the greenhouse in its glory days, filled with vibrant life instead of the few lonely succulents that remained. "What happened to all her plants?" I asked softly.
"After she died, I tried to keep them alive." A shadow crossed his face. "I failed miserably. I didn't have her touch." He ran his hand along the empty workbench. "Eventually, we donated most of her collection to the botanical gardens at the university where she taught. Seemed fitting."
The revelation of this personal history touched something in me—this Alpha who presented such a controlled exterior had tried to save his mother's legacy, plant by plant. I could picture a younger Gabriel here among the greenery, desperately trying to keep her memory alive.
"That must have been difficult," I said, imagining the young Gabriel trying to keep the plants here alive.
He nodded, his gaze distant. "I was seventeen when she passed. Old enough to understand what we'd lost, not experienced enough to maintain what she'd built." A small, self-deprecating smile touched his lips. "I killed a cactus within a month. A cactus."
I laughed softly, the image of a teenage Gabriel mourning a cactus unexpectedly endearing. "Even desert plants need attention sometimes."
"That's what Theo told me," Gabriel replied, his expression warming. "He was the one who managed to save a few specimens. He has more patience for these things."
I moved around the center island, examining the dormant space with new understanding. "So this space has just been waiting all these years. For what?"
Gabriel's eyes met mine, something unspoken passing between us. "I'm not sure. Maybe for someone who could appreciate it properly again."
The weight of his words settled in the air between us, charged with meaning I wasn't quite ready to examine. I turned away, focusing instead on the practical aspects of the space.
"The lighting is perfect for flowers," I observed, changing the subject. "Natural but diffused. And these workbenches are at just the right height." I ran my hand along the surface of the center island. "This will be ideal for the Sullivan wedding arrangements."
"I'm glad it works for you," Gabriel replied, accepting my pivot to safer ground. "Theo's ordered all the supplies on your list, plus a few extras he thought might be useful. They should arrive after breakfast tomorrow.”
"And the flowers for the wedding?" I asked, mentally reviewing the complex order that would need to be completed in just a few days.
"Scheduled to arrive by early afternoon tomorrow," Gabriel confirmed. "Dakota will pick them up personally to ensure they arrive in peak condition."
I raised an eyebrow, surprised by this level of involvement. "Dakota doesn't strike me as the flower delivery type."
Gabriel's lips quirked in amusement. "He's not. But he takes protection duties seriously, and right now, your flowers fall under that umbrella."
"My knight in scowling armor," I quipped, earning a genuine chuckle from Gabriel that transformed his usually serious face.
"He grows on you," Gabriel assured me, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Like moss. Or fungus."
I laughed, the sound echoing through the greenhouse. It felt good to laugh, to experience this moment of levity amid the chaos of the past few days. I found myself studying Gabriel's face—the way his entire expression transformed when he smiled, the slight crinkles at the corners of his eyes, the warmth that replaced his usual intensity.
"What?" he asked, catching me staring.
"Nothing," I said quickly, looking away. "Just... I haven't laughed much lately. It feels nice."
Gabriel's expression softened. "It suits you. The laughter." I ducked my head, suddenly self-conscious. There was something about Gabriel that made me feel exposed, as if he could see beneath the careful layers of independence I'd built around myself. It was unsettling and comforting all at once.
"I should probably head back inside," I said reluctantly, running my fingers along a dusty shelf. "I'd like to explore the rest of the house if that's okay. Get my bearings."
"Of course," Gabriel agreed, pushing himself away from the workbench. "This is your temporary home. You should feel comfortable navigating it."
As we walked back toward the main house, I found myself sneaking glances at him. The morning light softened his features, highlighting the angles of his face in a way that made him look younger, less burdened by whatever weight he usually carried.
"Thank you for sharing that with me," I said quietly as we approached the back door. "About your mother.”
Gabriel paused, his hand on the door handle. For a moment, he seemed caught off guard by my words, a flicker of vulnerability crossing his features before his usual composure returned.
"You're welcome," he said simply, but the warmth in his voice carried more meaning than the words themselves. "It's been a long time since I've talked about her."
We stepped back into the house, the controlled temperature a stark contrast to the humid warmth of the greenhouse. The hallway stretched before us, sunlight streaming through windows and illuminating polished hardwood floors.
The first floor contained the spacious living room I'd glimpsed earlier, a formal dining room that looked rarely used, and a well-equipped home gym tucked away by the sunroom. There were Two bedrooms on this floor, one I was using and a guest bedroom.
"Dakota and Lucas spend most of their free time in there," Gabriel explained as we passed the gym. "They claim it helps them think."
I nodded, as i continued to follow Gabriel.
"This is technically my grandfather's house," Gabriel explained as we climbed the wide staircase to the second floor. "It's been in the family for generations. When I formed the pack, it made sense for us all to live here. Plenty of space, privacy, and good security."
"It's beautiful," I said, admiring the craftsmanship of the wooden banister beneath my fingertips. "Not what I expected for a house full of Alphas."
Gabriel quirked an eyebrow. "What did you expect? Spartan furnishings and protein powder everywhere?"
I laughed, picturing the stereotypical Alpha bachelor pad. "Something like that. Lots of black leather, maybe a few broken things from testosterone-fueled outbursts."
Gabriel's lips quirked into that small smile I was beginning to recognize. "Sorry to disappoint. We're fairly civilized most of the time."
The second floor housed the pack's personal spaces. Gabriel pointed out rooms as we passed them—Dakota's domain at the far end of the hall, Lucas's slightly messy quarters with the door half-open, revealing rumpled bedding and clothes draped over a chair, and Theo's meticulously organized room with bookshelves lining every wall.
"And this is my office," Gabriel said, pausing at a door near the staircase. "If you ever need me and can't find me elsewhere, this is where I am.” Then we went to the last door, and he gave me a small smile.
“And this is usually Theo’s hidwaaway. You can usually find him here or in his room.” My breath caught as Gabriel pushed open the french doors, revealing a library that seemed plucked straight from a fairytale. Two stories of bookshelves stretched toward a coffered ceiling, with a spiral staircase connecting to a wraparound balcony lined with even more books. Comfortable leather chairs were arranged in cozy reading nooks, and tall windows filtered sunlight through sheer curtains, casting a warm glow over everything.
"This is magnificent," I whispered, stepping inside and turning in a slow circle to take it all in. The rich scent of leather bindings and old paper enveloped me, instantly soothing in its timelessness.
Gabriel watched me, something like pleasure warming his expression. "Another of my mother's legacies. She collected rare botanical texts, first editions, anything that caught her interest." He gestured to a section near one of the windows. "Those shelves house her botanical collection. First editions of some of the most important texts in the field, hand-illustrated manuscripts from the eighteenth century, journals from her own research."
I moved toward the shelves he indicated, drawn to a large leather-bound volume with delicate gold lettering on the spine. "May I?" I asked, my fingers hovering near the book.
"Of course," Gabriel nodded, watching as I carefully slid the volume from its place. "My mother believed books were meant to be read, not just displayed."
The book opened with a satisfying crackle to reveal exquisite hand-painted illustrations of flowers—each petal rendered with such precision and care that they seemed almost real enough to touch. I gasped softly, turning pages with reverent fingers.
"This is incredible," I murmured, tracing the outline of a lily with my fingertip, not quite touching the delicate page. "These are Viktor's Botanical Magazine illustrations from the early 1800s," Gabriel explained, moving closer to look over my shoulder. "Each plant was documented as it was discovered and introduced to the world. My mother treasured this collection."
The intimacy of the moment struck me—standing beside Gabriel in this sanctuary of knowledge, sharing something that clearly meant so much to him. This glimpse into his past, his family's legacy, felt like a gift more precious than he might realize.
"You must have grown up surrounded by extraordinary beauty," I said softly, carefully closing the book and returning it to its place.
"I did," Gabriel acknowledged, his voice quiet with memory. "Though I didn't always appreciate it at the time. Children rarely do."
I nodded, understanding. "It's only when we're older that we recognize the value of what shaped us."
Our eyes met, and something shifted in the air between us—something warm and understanding that made my heart beat a little faster. For a moment, we simply stood there, surrounded by books and history and the weight of shared confidences.
I looked away first, suddenly self-conscious about how close we were standing, about the intimacy of the moment. "I should probably let you get back to work," I said, taking a small step back. "I've already taken up too much of your morning."
"You haven't," Gabriel replied, his voice deeper than usual. "But I do have some calls to make about the case." He gestured toward the comfortable reading chairs. "Please, feel free to stay and explore. The library is yours to use whenever you like."
"Thank you," I said, genuinely touched by his generosity. "I might take you up on that offer. It's been a while since I've had time to just... read."
Gabriel nodded, moving to the door, “Enjoy. One of us will come and check on you later. If you get hungry feel free to raid the kitchen it is usually stocked with snacks to grab.”
I nodded, he gave me one last smile before leaving me alone in the library…and leaving with my heartbeat feeling like it was going to beat out of my chest. This was definitely not a good thing.
I can’t catch feelings…no matter how attractive these men are. I let myself move to one of the chairs, and was going to distract myself from these thoughts