Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Oliver
The drive back to the pack house was quick, my mind replaying every moment of the conversation with Daphne.
The way she'd stood in her garden, dirt-stained and beautiful in the golden afternoon light.
The vulnerability in her voice when she'd admitted her fears.
The careful way she'd pulled her hand back from mine—not rejection, just self-preservation.
I understood that impulse more than she probably realized.
The truck rumbled over the gravel drive as I approached our property, and I found myself taking in the view with fresh eyes.
What would Daphne see when she arrived tomorrow?
The half-renovated farmhouse with its new porch still lacking paint?
The barn foundation we'd poured last week, raw concrete waiting for walls?
The stacks of lumber and tools scattered across what would eventually be a proper yard?
We'd been so focused on making the place functional that we hadn't stopped to consider how it might look to someone visiting for the first time. Someone who'd spent five years creating a sanctuary of order and beauty, who might see our work-in-progress as chaos rather than potential.
I parked beside Micah's truck and cut the engine, sitting in the growing dusk for a moment. Through the kitchen windows, I could see warm light spilling out, hear the faint sounds of voices and laughter. Home. We haven’t been here too long, but already this place felt like home in a way the various apartments and rental houses we'd cycled through never had.
Maybe because we were building it together. Or maybe because we all knew, without saying it explicitly, that we were building it for more than just the four of us.
The front door swung open before I'd made it halfway across the yard, and Garrett stood silhouetted in the doorway, his posture tense with barely contained worry.
"Well?" he demanded, not even waiting for me to reach the porch. "Is she okay? Did she tell you what happened? Should we be worried?"
"Breathe, Garrett," I said, climbing the steps with an amused smile on my lips. Garrett didn’t get like this very often but it was rather amusing to watch when he did. "She's fine. And she'll tell us everything tomorrow."
"But—"
"Tomorrow," I repeated firmly, using just enough of my Alpha authority to make it clear the discussion was closed. "She’s asked to tell us all together, and we're going to respect that."
Garrett's jaw tightened, but he stepped aside to let me pass. "At least tell me she seemed okay. Not hurt or scared or—"
"She seemed tired," I sighed, kicking off my boots in the mudroom. The scent of the house wrapped around me—pack, home, and the lingering aroma of whatever Levi had been cooking. "Tired,wary, and doing her best to hold herself together. But she let me stay. We talked for a while."
I moved into the kitchen, where Levi was pulling something out of the oven—focaccia, from the smell of it, probably the batch he'd been planning for tomorrow. Micah sat at the table with his laptop, though his sharp green eyes were fixed on me with obvious curiosity.
"You were gone a long time," Levi observed, setting the bread on a cooling rack. The kitchen was warm from the oven, fragrant with rosemary and olive oil and the yeasty scent of fresh bread. "Must have been a good conversation."
"It was," I confirmed, moving to the sink to wash my hands. The water was cold and grounding, washing away the last traces of Daphne's property and the honeysuckle sweetness of her scent that had clung to my skin. "She's scared. Really scared. But she's trying."
"That's all we can ask for," Micah said, closing his laptop. His expression was thoughtful, calculating. "Did you get any sense of what happened this morning? Why she needs to talk to all of us?"
I dried my hands on a dish towel, considering how much to share. Daphne had asked to explain it herself, but the concern in my packmates' faces made me want to offer something. "My gut says it has to do with Trinity. The timing, the fact that she was rattled but not in immediate danger—it fits."
Garrett's expression darkened immediately, a low growl rumbling in his chest. "If that woman—"
"We'll handle it tomorrow," I interrupted, my voice carrying the weight of my position.
"After Daphne's had a chance to tell us what happened on her terms." The kitchen fell silent for a moment, tension thrumming beneath the surface.
This was the part of being head Alpha I'd never particularly enjoyed—having to balance everyone's needs and instincts, including my own, while making sure we moved forward as a unit rather than four individuals.
"Garrett," I sighed, more gently this time. "I know you want to fix everything for her. But this isn't something you can fix. She needs space to tell us in her own time."
"I hate that she's dealing with something alone," Garrett muttered, running a hand through his dark hair in obvious frustration. "She's been alone for too long already."
"And tomorrow she won't be," Levi pointed out, moving to start slicing the focaccia.
The knife cut through the golden crust with a satisfying crunch.
"Tomorrow she'll be here, with all of us.
That's progress." Micah stood, stretching his lean frame, and moved to lean against the counter beside me.
His scent—that sharp, rain-and-green smell that was distinctly his—mingled with mine, pack, home and belonging all mixed together.
"How did she seem?" he asked quietly, pitched just for me. "Really. Beyond the scared and tired."
I thought about Daphne on her porch, the way she'd wrapped her arms around herself like she could hold her own pieces together through sheer will. The tears she'd blinked back when I'd told her she wasn't too much work. The small, surprised laugh when I'd mentioned Garrett's flower dilemma.
"Fragile," I told him after a minute of silence. "But not broken. She's bending, not breaking. I think..." I paused, making sure of my words before saying them. "I think she wants this to work. She's just terrified it won't."
"Aren't we all," Micah murmured, and there was something vulnerable in his tone that he rarely let show.
Levi appeared at my other side, pressing a piece of still-warm focaccia into my hand. "Eat. You haven't had dinner, and you always get philosophical when your blood sugar's low."
Despite everything, I felt a smile tug at my lips. "I'm not philosophical."
"You absolutely are," Garrett huffed out, finally managing a small smile of his own as he joined us at the counter. "Remember the lumber debate of last Tuesday? You spent twenty minutes talking about the metaphorical significance of choosing sustainable materials."
"That was a practical discussion about environmental responsibility," I protested, but I took a bite of the focaccia anyway.
The flavor exploded on my tongue—rosemary, salt, olive oil, and something indefinably perfect that made me understand why Daphne had given Levi's baking such high praise. "This is incredible."
"I have been practicing," Levi said with obvious pride and I couldn’t help but release alaugh at his evident pride.
"The house needs work before tomorrow," Micah spoke up, his strategic mind clearly already moving ahead. "We've been living in construction chaos, but we can't have her walking into a disaster zone."
"It's not a disaster zone," Garrett protested, though he looked around the kitchen with a more critical eye. "It's just... in progress."
"There are sawdust and tools everywhere," Micah pointed out. "The living room has drywall compound on the floor. The bathroom nearest the kitchen still doesn't have a door handle. The deck boards we pulled up are stacked against the back wall like we're building a bonfire."
He wasn't wrong. We'd been so focused on the major renovations—getting the structure sound, the plumbing functional, the electrical up to code—that we'd let the day-to-day cleanliness slide. It worked fine for four Alphas who didn't care about a little construction dust, but for Daphne...
"Cleaning party," Levi announced, already moving toward the closet where we kept the broom and mop. "Tonight. We make this place presentable."
"It's almost eight," Garrett pointed out laughing, though he was already rolling up his sleeves.
"Then we'd better get started," I grinned, setting down my half-eaten focaccia.
"Micah, you take the living room—get rid of the drywall mess and organize the tools into the workshop.
Garrett, you're on the deck situation. Move those boards to the barn area.
Levi, kitchen and bathrooms. I'll handle the upstairs.”
We had a lot to do before Daphne came over and we wanted this place to look presentable.
I gave my pack one last look, a smile coming to my lips as they all quickly went about their tasks with looks of determination on their faces.
This could really work. We’d moved to this town to start our lives and figure things out as a full pack.
Garrett’s Dad was a huge big help, but Levi and my own family helped by getting us contacts…
and now with Daphne coming into our lives.
Things seemed to definitely be falling into place.
I climbed the stairs to the second floor, taking in the space with a fresh perspective.
The hallway still needed paint, but at least the walls were up and the floors were finished.
We'd chosen wide-plank oak, refinished from the original flooring we'd salvaged.
The wood gleamed in the overhead light, warm honey tones that made the space feel inviting despite the bare walls.
Three bedrooms lined one side of the hall—Garrett's at the far end, mine in the middle, Micah's nearest the stairs. On the other side, Levi had claimed the master suite with its attached bathroom, and the remaining room sat empty.
The room we'd unconsciously been saving.