Chapter 2
TWO
Michelle
Three days.
I'd been hiding in my childhood bedroom for three days, and I was starting to think I might never leave.
Not that hiding was particularly restful.
I'd spent seventy-two hours managing Lucas's channel remotely while trying to ignore the fact that every email from Ro made my heart race, every notification made me jump, and every time I closed my eyes I saw three faces staring at me with recognition and want.
My laptop sat on the small desk Mom had set up by the window, surrounded by color-coded sticky notes and three different planners. Professional Michelle was still running at full capacity, even if personal Michelle was having a complete breakdown.
I'd finalized the GamerGear sponsorship.
Negotiated a better rate for the New Year's stream.
Resolved a scheduling conflict between two of my other clients.
Answered forty-seven emails. Had three video calls where I'd kept my camera angled so no one could see the teenage band posters still on my walls.
And I'd taken my suppressants religiously. Double doses, just to be safe.
They weren't working.
Oh, they were dampening my scent enough that my family wasn't drowning in distressed omega pheromones.
But every night, I woke up at three AM with my body screaming for something—someone—I couldn't have.
My omega had tasted pack bond, and she wasn't interested in going back to the suppressed half-life I'd been living.
Traitor, I thought at my own biology.
A soft knock on my door made me look up from my laptop.
"Mija? Can I come in?"
"Yeah, Mom."
Janet Rodriguez-Williams entered carrying two mugs of hot chocolate, the good kind with real peppermint and fresh whipped cream. She'd been plying me with comfort food since I'd arrived, and I'd been too wrung out to protest.
"You've been up here all morning," she said, settling onto the edge of my bed. "It's almost noon. Have you eaten?"
"I had a granola bar."
"That's not eating, that's surviving." She handed me a mug. "Bill's making lunch. You're coming down."
"Mom, I have a call with—"
"The call can wait. You need to eat actual food and maybe see sunlight." Her expression gentled. "And maybe talk about what you're running from."
I wrapped my hands around the warm mug, letting the heat seep into my palms. "I'm not running. I'm strategically relocating."
"Mm-hmm." Mom took a sip of her chocolate, studying me over the rim. "Have they tried to contact you?"
"Ro sent one email. I told you about that." I'd shown her the email the night I arrived, needing someone to tell me I wasn't crazy for feeling both terrified and tempted. "Nothing since then."
"And Lucas? He's your client. You must be talking to him."
"Professionally, yes. About content strategy and sponsorships and stream schedules." I stared into my mug. "He hasn't mentioned the market. Neither has Ro in the work emails. They're... respecting my boundaries."
"Which is good."
"Which is confusing." I looked up at her. "If they're my fated mates, shouldn't they be pushing? Shouldn't they be showing up here, demanding I acknowledge the bond?"
"Maybe they're smarter than that. Or maybe—" Mom's eyes were too knowing, "—they're proving they can respect what you need."
My chest ached. "I don't know what I need."
"Yes, you do. You're just scared to admit it."
Before I could respond, Maya's voice echoed up the stairs, "MICHELLE! You have PACKAGES!"
I nearly dropped my mug. "What?"
"Like, a lot of packages!" Josh added. "From Seattle!"
Mom and I exchanged glances. Her lips were twitching like she was trying not to smile.
"I didn't order anything," I said weakly.
"Well, someone sent you something. Several somethings." Mom stood, heading for the door. "Come on. Let's see what your very respectful, boundary-honoring alphas sent you."
"They're not my—" But she was already gone.
I set down my mug and followed her downstairs, my heart doing something complicated in my chest.
The front porch had been transformed into a delivery station. Three boxes sat neatly stacked on the porch swing, each wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine. They looked rustic and intentional and absolutely terrifying.
Maya and Josh were hovering near them like Christmas had come early.
"They're addressed to you," Maya said, bouncing slightly. "From Seattle. No return address, but there are cards."
"Maya, did you open my mail?"
"The cards weren't sealed! They were just tucked under the twine!" But she looked slightly guilty.
I approached the boxes like they might explode. The first one was small, wrapped carefully. A sprig of fresh cedar was tucked under the twine.
Cedar and vanilla. Lucas.
My hands shook slightly as I pulled out the card.
For your office. - L
I unwrapped the box slowly, aware of my entire family watching. Inside was a beautiful desk plant—a small jade succulent in a hand-painted pot decorated with winter scenes. Nestled beside it was a bag of my favorite peppermint tea blend, the expensive kind I only bought as a rare treat.
The kind I'd mentioned exactly once, in passing, during our very first phone call six months ago.
He'd been paying attention.
"That's sweet," Bill said from the doorway, spatula in hand. "Practical and thoughtful."
I stared at the little succulent, my throat tight. The pot was hand-painted. Someone had taken time with this. Had thought about what I might need, what might make me smile.
The second box was larger, also wrapped carefully. The card read simply: Thought you might need these. - R
Inside were noise-canceling headphones, and not just any. These were top of the line, the kind I'd been eyeing for months but couldn't quite justify. Next to those sat a leather-bound planner embossed with my initials, and a handwritten note on heavy cardstock.
Michelle,
I know you like to have control of your schedule. These might help. Also, I'm sorry if I came on too strong in my email. Take all the time you need.
But I meant what I said. We're not giving up.
- Ro
The planner was perfect. Exactly the kind I preferred, weekly spreads, space for notes, a ribbon bookmark. And my initials. He'd had it custom made.
He'd been paying attention too.
Maya was reading over my shoulder. "Oh my god, that's so romantic. He's been thinking about you for months!"
"Maya—"
"What? It's right there in the note! He's not giving up!" She grabbed my arm. "Michelle, these are courting gifts. They're courting you properly."
"They're my clients," I said weakly.
"They're your mates," Mom corrected gently. "There's a difference."
The third box was more practical, sturdy. The card: Basics. - D
I opened it to find hand warmers, a high-quality thermos, a first-aid kit for my car, a heavy-duty phone charger, and tucked at the bottom, a soft blanket in deep forest green.
The note was brief. For the drive home. Stay warm.
Something about that broke through my defenses. The practicality of it. The quiet thoughtfulness. Dex had thought about me driving back to Seattle eventually, had wanted to make sure I was safe and comfortable.
Had wanted to take care of me.
I held the soft blanket, and my omega purred.
"Well," Bill said, breaking the silence. "Those are some determined alphas."
"They're proving a point," Mom added. "That they see you. All of you. Not just the omega."
I looked at the three boxes, at the evidence of three alphas who'd been paying attention for months without even knowing I was their mate. Lucas knowing my favorite tea. Ro understanding my need for control and organization. Dex thinking about my safety and comfort.
They'd been courting me before they'd even met me.
"I don't know what to do," I admitted quietly.
"You thank them," Mom said practically. "That's what you do first. Then you decide what comes next."
"But the professional complications—"
"Are complications," she finished. "Not impossibilities. Michelle, you've built a successful business by solving problems. This is just another problem to solve."
"Mom, this isn't a scheduling conflict. This is a pack bond with my clients. If word gets out, my reputation—"
"Your reputation is that you're the best in the business," Bill interrupted. "That doesn't change because you found your mates."
Josh was pulling out his phone. "Also, can I just say? CozyLuke sent you courting gifts. That's so cool. He's literally the nicest streamer on the platform, and he's—"
"Josh," I said tiredly. "Not helping."
"I'm just saying! If you have to have a complicated pack bond situation, at least it's with decent alphas. Could be worse."
Maya smacked his arm. "Read the room, dude."
But he wasn't wrong. If I was going to have a professional crisis, at least it was with alphas who sent thoughtful gifts and respected my boundaries and hadn't shown up on my doorstep demanding I acknowledge the bond.
My phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number, but I recognized it now as Dex's from the text he'd sent three days ago.
Dex: Hope the packages arrived. No pressure. Just wanted you to know we're thinking of you.
Then, from Lucas's number: The plant's name is George. He's very low maintenance. Like me.
And finally, from Ro: If the gifts are too much, tell us. We're figuring this out as we go too.
I stared at the three messages. Three alphas, reaching out but not pushing. Making their interest clear but giving me space. Courting me the way I needed to be courted, with respect and patience and understanding.
"What are you going to do?" Maya asked, peering at my phone.
I looked at the gifts. At my family watching me with various expressions of support and curiosity. At my phone with three messages from three alphas who were trying so hard to give me what I needed.