Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Daphne
The afternoon sun was slanting through the kitchen windows when I heard another vehicle coming down the road.
My shoulders tensed automatically…I'd already had enough visitors for one day.
Micah's early morning appearance had left me emotionally wrung out, my defenses scattered after the vulnerable talk.
I was standing at the counter, mindlessly chopping vegetables for a soup I didn't really want to make, when I recognized the sound of the engine. Not one of the pack's trucks. This was lighter, higher-pitched. Familiar in a different way.
Viola's little sedan came into view, dust trailing behind it as she pulled up near my porch.
I set down the knife, wiping my hands on a towel as I tried to gather myself.
Viola wasn't someone I really knew too well.
.. She wasn't even really a friend, not in the traditional sense.
Just… someone I saw when I came to town.
Someone who'd been kind to me over the years, who worked at the line dance bar on the outskirts and always had the latest gossip.
But we weren't close. I didn't do close.
I stepped out onto the porch as she climbed out of her car, a basket in her hands and a knowing smile on her face. She was wearing jeans and a flowy top, her dark hair pulled back in a messy bun, looking effortlessly put together in that way some people just seemed to manage.
"Daphne!" she called out, her voice warm. Though she had a smile on her face, I could see how nervous she was. "Hope you don't mind me dropping by. I brought pie."
Pie. The universal peace offering, but it did have me giving the other omega a small smile, "You didn't have to do that."
"I know I didn't have to. I wanted to." She climbed the porch steps, and I caught the scent of apples and cinnamon wafting from the basket. "Can I come in? Or would you rather I leave this on the porch and go?"
The directness of the question caught me off guard. Most people just assumed entry, pushed their way into spaces without asking. Viola was giving me a choice, same as Micah had done this morning.
"You can come in," I heard myself say, stepping aside to hold the door open.
Viola's smile widened as she passed me, bringing the scent of pie and her own light perfume—something floral but not overwhelming.
She moved into my kitchen like she'd been there before, setting the basket on the counter and immediately pulling out not just pie, but also a thermos.
"Coffee," she explained, a small laugh leaving her, ""The good stuff from the diner. Figured you might need it after the day you've had yesterday…and today."
I blinked at her. "How did you—"
"Small town, honey. By noon, half of Haven's Rest knew Micah came to visit you this morning.
By two, the other half knew you'd agreed to have dinner with the pack on Wednesday…
and not to mention what happened yesterday at the market.
" She pulled out two mugs from my cabinet like she belonged there, making me wonder how she knew where the cups were.
I shook my head as she continued to talk, "Gossip moves faster than lightning around here. "
My stomach sank. Of course. Of course everyone knew. "I should never leave my house."
"Probably not, if you wanted to stay invisible forever." Viola poured coffee into both mugs, sliding one across the counter to me. "But I don't think you really want that anymore. Do you?"
The question was too perceptive, too knowing. I wrapped my hands around the warm mug, using it as an anchor. "I don't know what I want."
"That's a start." Viola cut two generous slices of pie, plating them with the ease of someone comfortable in kitchens. "At least you're admitting you're not sure instead of insisting you want to be alone forever."
"I've been alone for five years," I said defensively, though it sounded weak even to my own ears. "I'm good at it."
"Being good at something doesn't mean it's what you should keep doing." She pushed a plate toward me, then grabbed her own and moved to my small kitchen table, sitting down like we did this all the time. "Come on. Sit. Let's talk."
I hesitated, every instinct telling me to refuse, to maintain distance, to keep this interaction surface-level and brief. But something in Viola's expression—open, genuine, without judgment—made me want to try. Made me think of Micah's words that morning: One step at a time.
I carried my coffee and pie to the table, sitting across from her. The silence stretched for a moment as we both took our first bites. The pie was perfect—sweet and tart, with a flaky crust that melted on my tongue.
"This is amazing," I admitted quietly, never having a pie like this. I wasn’t the best at deserts, having better luck at baking bread instead.
"Mrs. Chen makes the best pies in three counties." Viola took another bite, then set down her fork and looked at me directly. "So….. You're actually considering this? Being courted."
"I don't know if 'considering' is the right word." I pushed a piece of apple around my plate. "More like... I agreed not to automatically say no."
"That's progress for you." There was no judgment in her voice, just observation..and that made me relax a bit more as I took another bite of the pie as she continued to speak. "From what I've seen, you usually shut down anything that even hints at connection before it can fully form."
The accuracy of the statement stung. "You don't know me that well."
"I know you better than you think." Viola sipped her coffee, her eyes never leaving mine.
"We've been orbiting each other for what, three years?
Since I started at the bar. And in all that time, we've had a handful of conversations that lasted longer than five minutes.
All of them in town, all of them surface-level.
You've never invited me out here, never accepted any of my invitations to events or gatherings. "
"I'm private," I said stiffly, not liking where this conversation could be heading. I had a feeling I wouldn’t like a lot of what Viola would say today.
"You're isolated." She said it gently, but it hit like a blow to the chest. "There's a difference, Daphne. Being private means you have boundaries. Being isolated means you have walls so high nobody can even see over them."
I set down my fork, my appetite disappearing. "Why are you here, Viola? Really?"
"Because I like you," she said simply, a small smile on her face as she looked at me with soft eyes.
"I've always liked you. I think you're smart,talented, and stronger than you give yourself credit for.
And I hate watching you lock yourself away from everything and everyone who might actually care about you. "
"People who care about you leave," I said, the words bitter in my mouth. "People who say they'll stay don't. I've learned that lesson enough times."
"Have you? Or have you just convinced yourself that's the only possible outcome?
" Viola leaned forward, her expression intense.
"Daphne, I heard about what happened at the market yesterday.
Trinity coming at you, making accusations.
And you know what else I heard? That the entire town took your side.
That people were ready to throw her out if she didn't leave on her own. "
"So what?" I picked up my coffee, needing something to hold onto. "That doesn't change anything."
"It changes everything!" Viola's voice rose slightly with exasperation.
"Don't you see? This town—these people—they've been watching you for five years.
They've seen you work hard, stay honest, mind your own business.
They respect you, Daphne. They like you.
But you've kept them all at such a distance that you have no idea how much support you actually have. "
"I don't need support. I need to be left alone." But even as I said it, the words felt hollow. A defense mechanism I'd repeated so many times it had become automatic.
"Do you think so?" Viola asked quietly. "Do you really need to be left alone? Or is that just safer than risking connection?"
I stood abruptly, carrying my barely-touched pie to the sink. My hands were shaking, and I gripped the edge of the counter to steady them. "You don't understand."
"Then explain it to me." Viola's voice came from right behind me, and I hadn't even heard her move. "I'm here, Daphne. I'm listening. No judgment, no gossip, just... talk to me. Like a friend."
"We're not friends," I said, but the words came out weak, uncertain.
"Why not?" she challenged, and I could hear the determination in her voice. She wasn’t going to leave until we talked…really talked. "And don't give me the 'I'm private' excuse. The real reason. Why aren't we friends?"
I turned to face her, and the genuine concern in her expression made something crack inside me.
"Because friends leave. Everyone leaves.
My mother left me at an orphanage. Margaret and Tom died.
Their kids sold everything and didn't look back.
Everyone I've ever let in has found a way to leave, one way or another. "
"So you decided to leave first," Viola said softly, understanding dawning in her eyes…and I knew I said more than I really wanted but she was hitting points I didn’t want to address.
"By never really letting anyone in at all.
You keep everyone at arm's length—me, Eleanor, everyone in town.
You interact just enough to be polite but never enough to actually connect.
And that way, when people inevitably drift away or move on, it doesn't hurt because they were never really close in the first place. "
The tears I'd been fighting since Micah left that morning finally spilled over. "It's safer."