Chapter 20 #2
"Everything about this situation is complicated," Oliver sighed, but there was something almost affectionate in his tone. "Four Alphas trying to court an Omega who'd rather be left alone. It doesn't get much more complicated than that."
"I didn't say I'd rather be left alone," I protested, then stopped, realizing what I'd just admitted. "I mean—"
"You said exactly what you meant." Oliver's smile was gentle but knowing. "You're starting to realize that maybe isolation wasn't what you actually wanted. Just what felt safest."
The tea kettle whistled, saving me from having to respond. I poured the hot water over the tea bags, then added ice, my movements automatic and familiar. Oliver accepted the glass I offered him with a nod of thanks, and we moved back outside to the porch where the air was cooler and less confining.
We sat in the rocking chairs sipping our tea in companionable silence. The afternoon was starting to shift toward evening, the light taking on that golden quality that made everything look softer, more forgiving.
"Can I ask you something?" Oliver asked after a while, his voice quiet but curious. He shifted his gaze from looking out at the scenery to me.
I tensed slightly but nodded as I wearily answered. "I guess."
"What scares you most? About tomorrow, about all of this?" He turned his body so his gaze was on me directly. "And I want the real answer, not the one you think I want to hear."
I stared out at my garden, at the rows I'd weeded today, at the greenhouse where seedlings grew in carefully controlled conditions.
Everything I'd built here was about control—controlling my environment, my interactions, my vulnerability.
Then here Oliver was asking me to give up that control, at least for a moment.
"That I'll mess it up," I whispered finally after a long minute of silence to gather my thoughts and the best way to express this into words. I wasn’t always the best at conveying my needs and wants into a conversation.
. "That I'll panic or push you away or say the wrong thing, and you'll all realize I'm too much work.
Too damaged. That it's easier to find someone else who doesn't come with all my… baggage."
Oliver was quiet for so long I thought maybe I'd said too much, revealed too much of the fear that kept me up at night. Though when he spoke, his voice was steady and sure.
"Daphne, I'm going to tell you something, and I need you to really hear it." He set down his tea and turned his chair to face me fully. "Every single person has baggage. Every single person has damage. The difference is whether you let that damage define you or whether you learn to work with it."
He leaned forward, his blue eyes intense. "You're not too much work. You're the right amount of work for people who actually care about you. And we do care, Daphne. All four of us. We're not looking for easy. We're looking for real. And you're about as real as it gets.."
Tears burned behind my eyes, but I blinked them back furiously. "You barely know me."
"We know enough," Oliver told me simply, his voice was soft as he spoke to me.
"We know you're strong, independent, and talented.
We know you've survived things that would have broken other people.
We know you're scared but brave enough to try anyway.
That's enough for us to want to know more. To want to earn your trust."
"I don't know how to do this," I admitted, my voice cracking. "How to let people in without losing myself in the process."
"Then we learn together." Oliver reached out slowly, giving me time to pull away, and when I didn't, he took my hand. His grip was warm as he gave my hand a small squeeze. "That's what pack is supposed to be, Daphne. People figuring it out together, supporting each other through the hard parts."
I looked down at our joined hands, at the way his larger palm completely engulfed mine. It should have felt overwhelming, suffocating. Instead, it just felt… safe.
"What if I can't be what you need?" The question escaped before I could stop it, raw and vulnerable.
"What if you already are?" Oliver countered gently, his eyes softening when he looked at me.
"What if everything you think are flaws are actually exactly what we need?
What if your caution keeps us grounded? What if your independence reminds us that love isn't about possession? What if your walls teach us patience?"
I pulled my hand back, not because his touch was unwelcome, but because I needed to breathe, to think, to process the weight of his words without being completely overwhelmed by his presence.
"You make it sound so simple," I said, wrapping my arms around myself. I had kept to myself so long to protect myself to let people in can’t be that simple.
"It's not simple at all," Oliver admitted, leaning back in his chair. "It's probably going to be one of the most complicated things any of us have ever done. But complicated doesn't mean impossible. It definitely doesn't mean it’s not worth it."
We sat in silence again, but it was different now—charged with possibility instead of just awkward uncertainty. Oliver's presence was solid and reassuring in a way I wasn't used to, less gentle than Garrett's patient warmth but no less comforting.
"The others are driving me crazy, you know," Oliver told me after a while, a hint of amusement in his voice.
"Garrett keeps asking if it's too early to bring you flowers.
Levi's planning an entire feast for tomorrow instead of just dinner.
And Micah's been running mental scenarios about every possible way tomorrow could go. "
Despite everything, I felt a laugh bubble up. "That sounds exhausting for you."
"It's what I signed up for when I became head Alpha of this particular pack." His smile was fond, affectionate. "They're good men, Daphne. Maybe a little intense, definitely overthink everything, but their hearts are in the right place."
"And your heart?" I asked before I could stop myself. "Where's it at in all this?"
Oliver turned to look at me, his expression serious but open. "In the same place as theirs. Hoping you'll give us a chance. Hoping tomorrow goes well. Hoping that maybe, eventually, you'll see yourself the way we see you—as someone worth choosing, worth staying for, worth, everything."
The intensity of his words, the certainty in his voice, made my breath catch. This was the head Alpha, the one the others deferred to, the one whose word was final in their pack. And he was sitting on my porch, drinking my tea, telling me I was worth everything.
"I'm going to disappoint you," I whispered, glancing down as I curled my arms around myself. "All of you. Eventually."
"Probably," Oliver agreed easily, which was not the response I'd expected, making my eyes fly back to him.
"And we'll probably disappoint you too. That's what people do. They mess up, they fall short, it’s human.
The question isn't whether we'll disappoint each other, it's whether we'll work through it when we do. "
He stood then, stretching slightly, and I realized the sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold. He'd been here for a while, just sitting with me, not demanding anything, just… being present.
"I should go," he hummed out, but he didn't sound like he particularly wanted to. "Let you have your evening. But Daphne? Thank you."
I stood too, following him toward his truck. "For what?"
"For letting me be here. For not pushing me away." He paused at the driver's door, looking back at me. "I know it wasn't easy. So thank you for trying."
"One step at a time," I said, echoing what everyone kept telling me. Maybe if they kept on telling me it would be something I actually believed.
"Exactly." Oliver climbed into the truck, but before starting the engine, he rolled down the window. "Tomorrow, six o'clock. But if you need anything before then—anything at all—you have my number now. Use it."
"I will," I said, and meant it. I watched his truck disappear down the road, then stood in the fading light for a long moment. Three Alphas had visited in two days. All of them checking on me, supporting me, offering patience and understanding I wasn't sure I deserved.
Tomorrow, I'd face all four of them together. The thought made my stomach knot with anxiety, but underneath it was something else. Something that felt dangerously close to hope.
Inside, my phone buzzed with a new message.
Viola: How are you doing? Did you tell them about this morning?
I typed back: Tomorrow. Oliver came by to check on me. Everyone keeps checking on me. It's weird.
Her response came quickly: That's called having people who care about you. Get used to it.
I smiled despite myself, setting the phone down. Having people who cared. What a strange, terrifying, wonderful concept.
I spent the rest of the evening in my usual routine—making a simple dinner, tending to evening garden tasks, and preparing for tomorrow's workload. But everything felt different now, colored by the knowledge that tomorrow would bring change, whether I was ready for it or not.