Chapter 21 #2
I pushed open the door and stood in the doorway, studying the space.
It was the best bedroom in the house besides Levi's suite—corner position with windows on two walls, eastern exposure for morning light, a view of both Daphne's direction and the forest beyond.
We'd finished it completely, down to the fresh coat of warm cream paint and the new curtains Levi had insisted on installing last week.
Almost like we'd known, even before we'd met her, that we were building a home for more than just ourselves.
The room was simple but welcoming—empty of furniture but clean and light-filled.
I moved to the window that faced toward Daphne's property, though all I could see was trees and a darkening sky.
Somewhere beyond that tree line, she was probably finishing her evening routine, maybe thinking about tomorrow with the same mixture of anticipation and dread I was feeling.
"We're really doing this," I said to the empty room, to myself, to the universe. "Courting someone together. Four Alphas and one incredibly wary Omega."
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out to find a message from my father.
Dad: Heard you boys are having company tomorrow. Jack talked to a woman named Lynn. Said she mentioned something about a girl from the market. This the same one who's had Garrett walking around like a lovesick puppy?
I snorted, typing back: That's the one. And we're all lovesick puppies at this point.
His response came quickly: Good. About time you boys found something beyond work and renovations. Your mother always said a home isn't complete without someone to share it with.
The mention of Mom made my chest ache the way it always did—sharp and sweet and painful all at once. She'd been gone for almost ten years now, lost to cancer when I was just sixteen, but her wisdom still echoed in the choices I made.
Me: Wish mom was here to meet her.
Dad: She'd have loved her already. Anyone brave enough to take on four Alphas has your mother's kind of spirit. Bring her by the mill sometime. I want to meet the girl who's got my boy cleaning house at eight at night..
I smiled, pocketing my phone. Dad had a way of cutting through complications to find the heart of things. And he was right—we were cleaning house, at eight pm on a weeknight because we wanted to make a good impression. Because we wanted Daphne to feel welcome, comfortable, safe.
Because we were already half in love with her, even though she'd barely let us past her walls. I heard footsteps on the stairs and turned to find Garrett standing in the doorway, taking in the empty room with an expression I couldn't quite read.
"You thinking about what I'm thinking about?" he asked quietly, his eyes scanning over the room.
"That this could be her room?" I moved away from the window, giving him space to enter. "Yeah, but that's probably getting ahead of ourselves."
"Is it?" Garrett walked to the other window, the one overlooking the forest. "Oliver, we've all felt it. From the first moment with her. This sense of... rightness. Like we've been waiting for her without knowing what we were waiting for."
I couldn't argue with that. I'd felt it too, sitting on her porch this afternoon, holding her hand and feeling like something fundamental had shifted into place.
Not love, not yet—you couldn't love someone you barely knew.
The potential for it, the recognition that this person could become essential.
"She's not ready for us to be talking about her having a room here," I told him gently, more for my sake than his. "She's barely ready to have dinner with us."
"I know." Garrett's reflection in the window showed his frustration. "I just... I want to give her everything. Space and time and patience, but also safety, belonging, and the knowledge that she doesn't have to be alone anymore. I just don't know how to balance those things."
I moved to stand beside him, our shoulders nearly touching. Pack. Brothers in all but blood. "We balance them by following her lead. By offering without demanding. By showing up consistently and letting her decide what she's ready to accept."
"That's very wise," Garrett sighed with a slight smile. "Levi’s right—you do get philosophical."
"Shut up and help me move furniture," I laughed, pushing him toward the door. "If we're going to make this place presentable, we need to clear out the boxes from the hall closet."
We worked in comfortable silence for a while, moving through the upstairs with practiced efficiency. Garrett handled the heavy lifting while I organized and directed, falling into the dynamic we'd established over three years of friendship and pack life.
"Can I ask you something?" Garrett asked quietly as we carried a box of old curtains down to the donation pile. "As head Alpha?"
"You can ask me anything, anytime," I reminded him. He never had to ask for advice or an opinion I’d always give it to him. "You don't need to preface it with my title."
"This feels like a title question." He set down his end of the box, then straightened to look at me directly.
"If this doesn't work—if Daphne decides we're too much, or if the logistics get too complicated, or if Trinity escalates to the point where Daphne feels unsafe—will you pull the plug? For the good of the pack?"
The question hit harder than I'd expected. Because it was the question I'd been asking myself since Micah's assessment two days ago. The one that kept me up at night, running scenarios and calculating risks.
"Honestly?" I met his gaze steadily. "I don't know. My job is to protect this pack, to make sure our choices don't damage what we've built. But my job is also to support what makes us whole. And I think... I think Daphne could make us whole in a way we've never been before."
"That's not really an answer," Garrett pointed out, though I could see the apprehension on his face.
"It's the only answer I have right now." I leaned against the wall, suddenly tired.
"If Daphne decides this isn't for her, we respect that and move on.
If the situation becomes genuinely dangerous—not just uncomfortable or complicated, but actually dangerous—then yes, I'd have to intervene.
But short of those extremes? We see this through. Together."
Garrett nodded slowly, seeming to accept this. "Fair enough. And for the record? I think she could make us whole too. I've thought that since I saw her in that garden, completely content in her solitude but also... lonely. Like she'd forgotten what it felt like to not be lonely."
"We'll remind her," I told him with more confidence than I felt. "If she'll let us."
We finished the upstairs and headed back down to find Micah and Levi had transformed the main floor.
The living room was immaculate, tools organized and put away, the drywall dust cleaned up to reveal the warm oak floors.
The deck boards were gone from the back wall, and through the kitchen window, I could see Garrett's truck parked near the barn foundation, presumably after delivering them there.
The kitchen gleamed, Levi's domain restored to the organized efficiency he preferred. Every surface was clean, the dishes were done, and the focaccia sat cooling on a rack, covered with a clean towel.
"Not bad for two hours of work," Micah said, surveying the space with satisfaction. He'd changed into clean clothes, and I noticed he'd showered—his hair was still damp, and he smelled like his usual soap, clean and sharp.
"The bathroom has a door handle now too," Levi added, gesturing toward the small half-bath off the kitchen. "Found the hardware in the workshop. Took five minutes to install—don't know why we've been putting it off for weeks."
"Because we're idiots who don't notice things until we need to impress someone," Garrett muttered, but he was smiling.
"Speaking of impressions," Micah pulled out his phone, tapping through what looked like a list. "Menu for tomorrow. Levi's handling appetizers and sides—focaccia, roasted vegetables, some kind of salad. Oliver, you're doing the steaks. Garrett's on grill duty for vegetables. I'll handle dessert."
"You're making dessert?" Levi raised an eyebrow suspicion on his face at the thought of Micah baking something. "Since when do you bake?"
"I don't. I'm buying dessert from Mrs. Chen." Micah's expression was utterly unapologetic. I almost laughed but kept it at bay. "She makes better pie than any of us, and I'm not too proud to admit it."
"Practical," I approved, letting myself laugh as I asked, "What kind?"
"I was thinking apple, but I'll ask Viola tomorrow. She seems to know Daphne better than we do—she'll know what Daphne would actually enjoy versus what she'd just politely eat." He told me as he gave a small grin.
The thoughtfulness of it struck me. This was why we worked as a pack—we each brought different strengths, different perspectives. Micah's strategic thinking meant he was already three steps ahead, considering details the rest of us might miss.
"Six o'clock," I said, looking around at my pack. "We have less than twenty-four hours to make sure everything's ready. Not just the house, but us. Our expectations, our approach, our understanding that tomorrow could go a hundred different ways."
"Pep talk time?" Levi asked with a grin, shifting to rock on his heels before making himself stand still.
"More like reality check time." I moved to sit at the kitchen table, and the others followed, taking their usual positions—Garrett across from me, Micah to my right, Levi to my left. Pack positions, established without discussion over years of meals and meetings and moments just like this.
"Tomorrow, Daphne walks through that door," I began, making sure I had all their attention.
"Scared, wary, probably already looking for reasons to bolt.
She's going to tell us something that happened—something that rattled her enough that she felt she needed to tell all of us together.
And our job is to listen, support her, and make her feel safe enough to stay. "
"Without overwhelming her," Micah added, throwing in his own commentary.
"Without overwhelming her," I agreed, giving him a glance before looking at each one of them.
"Which means we need to be aware of our presence, our scents, our tendency to crowd.
Four Alphas in one space can be a lot even for an Omega who's comfortable with pack dynamics.
For Daphne, who's been alone for five years, it could be completely overwhelming. "
"So we give her space," Garrett said, understanding. "Let her choose where to sit, how close to get, when to engage."
"Exactly. And we don't all try to solve whatever problem she's bringing us.
We let her tell us what she needs, and then we respond accordingly.
" I looked at each of them in turn, a stern look on my face.
"This isn't about proving we can protect her or fix her life.
It's about proving we can listen and respect her. "
"Even if every instinct is screaming at us to fix whatever's wrong," Levi said quietly, though we all heard it. I didn’t blame him though.
"Especially then." I stood, feeling the weight of my role but also the rightness of it. "This pack works because we chose each other, because we respect each other's strengths and weaknesses. If we want Daphne to choose us, we need to show her that same respect."
Micah was nodding, his mind clearly filing away the points as I spoke up again.
"Most importantly—" I looked around at these men who'd become my family, my pack, my brothers. "We remember that no matter what happens tomorrow, we're in this together. If she says yes to courting, we share that victory. If she says no, we share that disappointment. But we stay united."
"Pack first," Garrett murmured, the phrase we'd adopted as our unofficial motto.
"Pack first," we echoed together. The kitchen fell into comfortable silence, each of us lost in our own thoughts. Tomorrow would be pivotal, one way or another. The moment when Daphne would either take another step toward us or decide we were too much, too complicated, too risky.
I thought about her on that porch, the way she'd looked at me when I'd told her she was worth everything. The tears she'd blinked back, the vulnerability she'd let me see. That woman wasn't ready to run. Not yet.
She was ready to try.
"Alright," I said, breaking the silence.
"It's late, and we all have work tomorrow before Daphne arrives.
Garrett, you're on mill duty with Dad—he wants to meet her sometime, by the way.
I am sure he told your Dad by now too. Micah, you've got the quarterly reports to finish.
Levi, you're handling the supply order for the barn project.
And I'm meeting with the contractor about the final inspection timeline. "
"Normal day until six," Levi confirmed, his lips twitching into a smile.
"Normal day until our lives potentially change forever," Micah corrected with dry humor.
"That too," I agreed, because this dinner tomorrow could change everything about our dynamics and life. It all depends on where Daphne wants to go from here. "Get some sleep. All of you. That's an order."
They dispersed, Garrett and Micah heading upstairs while Levi stayed behind to set up the coffee maker for morning. I lingered in the kitchen, looking around at this space we'd created together. Strong bones of an old house, filled with new life and possibility.
Tomorrow, we'd find out if there was room for one more.
My phone buzzed again—my father, with his impeccable timing.
Dad: Proud of you, son. Your mother would be too. Not just for finding someone worth caring about, but for building a pack that's ready to welcome her. That's the hard part.
I smiled, typing back: Thanks, Dad. Hope we don't screw this up.
His response was immediate: You won't. You've got your mother's heart and my stubbornness. Between the two, you'll figure it out.
I pocketed my phone and took one last look around the transformed space. Clean, welcoming, ready for tomorrow. Just like us. As ready as we'd ever be.
I climbed the stairs to my room, the house settling into the nighttime quiet around me. Through the walls, I could hear the familiar sounds of my pack—Garrett's shower running, Micah's music playing softly, Levi moving around his room.
Home.
And tomorrow, maybe, just maybe, it would become Daphne's home too.
One step at a time.
Just like we'd all been telling her. Just like she'd been trying to believe.