Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
Daphne
Three days after Oliver's picnic, I found myself standing on my front porch at seven in the morning, watching Garrett's truck wind its way down my road.
The sun was barely up, the sky still painted in soft shades of pink and lavender, and the air held that particular crispness that promised a beautiful day ahead.
I'd been nervous since I woke up—earlier than necessary, my body apparently deciding that sleep was optional when a date with an attractive alpha was on the agenda.
I'd changed clothes twice, eventually settling on sturdy hiking boots, comfortable jeans, and a lightweight long-sleeved shirt in a deep burgundy that I'd forgotten I owned.
My hair was pulled back in a practical ponytail, and I'd packed a small daypack with water, sunscreen, and snacks, feeling slightly ridiculous about how much thought I'd put into the whole thing.
It's just a hike, I'd told myself repeatedly. Just walking in the woods with a man who happens to be part of the pack courting you. No big deal…But my racing heart disagreed.
Garrett pulled up near my gate and climbed out, and I felt that familiar flutter in my chest at the sight of him.
He was dressed practically—worn hiking boots, cargo pants with multiple pockets, a forest green t-shirt that stretched across his broad shoulders.
His dark hair was slightly tousled, like he'd run his fingers through it instead of bothering with a comb, and his blue eyes crinkled at the corners when he spotted me waiting.
"Good morning," he called, his voice warm in the early quiet. "You're ready. I'm impressed—Levi's never on time for anything."
"I've been up for hours," I admitted as he approached. "Couldn't sleep."
"Nervous?" He asked, a small knowing grin on his face.
"A little." There was no point in lying—he'd probably see through it anyway. "I haven't done anything like this in a long time. Hiking with someone, I mean. Or... any of it, really."
Garrett's expression softened, and he stopped a comfortable distance away, giving me space while still feeling present.
"We can take it easy. The trail I picked isn't too strenuous—beautiful views, mostly shaded, with a nice spot for lunch at the top.
If at any point you want to turn back, just say the word. "
"I'm not worried about the hiking part." I shifted my pack on my shoulders, suddenly self-conscious. "The hiking part I can handle."
"I know." His smile was gentle, understanding. "The other part—the being-with-another-person part—that's what's scary. I get it, Daphne. I really do." He gestured toward his truck. "Ready when you are. No pressure, no expectations. Just a walk in the woods with hopefully some good conversation."
I took a breath, steadying myself, and nodded. "Let's go."
The drive to the trailhead took about twenty minutes, winding through increasingly rural roads that climbed gradually into the foothills.
Garrett drove with easy confidence, one hand on the wheel, occasionally pointing out landmarks—a farm that sold the best honey in the county, a swimming hole he'd discovered as a teenager, the turnoff to a cabin his family had owned for generations.
"You grew up around here?" I asked, surprised. "I thought you moved from the city."
"We did, for work. But this area—it's home. Has been for generations, on both my side and Oliver's." He glanced at me, something warm in his eyes. "That's part of why we wanted to come back here. It felt like coming back to where we belonged."
"That must be nice. Having roots somewhere." I said, a flicker of sadness thinking about Margaret and Tom.
"You don't?" He asked, glancing at me from the corner of his eye before turning them back to the road.
I shook my head, watching the trees blur past my window.
"I grew up all over. Foster care, mostly.
Never stayed anywhere long enough to feel rooted.
" The admission came easier than I'd expected, the words slipping out without the usual defensive edge.
"This cabin—the five years I've been there—that's the longest I've ever lived anywhere. "
Garrett was quiet for a moment, and I appreciated that he didn't immediately fill the silence with platitudes or pity. When he spoke, his voice was thoughtful. "Then you’ve made your own roots. That's even more impressive, in a way. You didn't inherit a place to belong—you built one."
The observation landed somewhere tender, and I found myself blinking against unexpected moisture in my eyes. "I never thought of it that way."
"It's true, though." He turned onto a smaller road, gravel crunching beneath the tires. "The garden, the cabin, the life you've created—you did that from nothing. That is admirable.”
We pulled into a small parking area at the base of the trail—just a dirt lot with room for a few cars, empty this early on a weekday morning.
The forest rose around us, tall pines and old oaks creating a canopy that filtered the morning light into dappled patterns on the ground.
The air smelled different here—richer, greener, full of the secret life of growing things.
"This is beautiful," I breathed, climbing out of the truck and turning slowly to take it all in.
"Wait until you see the view from the top." Garrett grabbed a pack from the back seat—larger than mine, probably containing lunch—and slung it over his shoulders. "Ready?"
We set off down the trail, walking side by side where the path was wide enough, single file where it narrowed.
Garrett set an easy pace, and I found myself relaxing into the rhythm of movement, the simple pleasure of putting one foot in front of the other.
The forest was alive around us. Birds called from the canopy—I recognized the sharp cry of a blue jay, the melodic warble of something I couldn't identify.
Squirrels chattered from branches overhead, and once, a deer startled from the underbrush and bounded away in graceful leaps, its white tail flashing.
"I love mornings like this," Garrett said as we climbed a gentle incline. "Before the world wakes up fully. When everything feels possible."
"Do you hike often?" I asked with curiosity in my voice.
"When I can. It's harder now, with the business and the renovation, but I try to get out at least once a week. Clears my head." He held back a branch so I could pass, the gesture automatic and thoughtful. "What about you? Do you ever explore the land around your property?"
"Some. There's a trail that follows the creek for a mile or so, and I know the woods well enough to forage.
I don't usually go far." I ducked under a low-hanging branch, my boots finding purchase on the uneven ground.
"I tell myself it's because I'm too busy with the garden, but honestly.
.. I think I was afraid. Of going too far from safety. "
"And now?" He asked, as he moved around another branch that was in the way of the walking path.
I considered the question as we walked, the trail winding steadily upward through increasingly rocky terrain. "Now I'm starting to think that safety isn't always where I thought it was. That maybe I've been hiding instead of living."
"That's a big realization." He gave me a grin, it was soft and warm making me smile back.
"Viola said something similar. She said I'd built a prison and called it protection." I laughed softly, shaking my head. "Everyone keeps holding up mirrors lately. It's uncomfortable but probably necessary."
"Growth usually is uncomfortable." Garrett's voice was matter-of-fact, not judgmental.
"When I took over my family's construction business after my father stepped down from being the owner, I had to face a lot of things about myself I'd been avoiding.
My tendency to take on too much, to think I had to do everything alone, to never ask for help because asking felt like weakness. "
"How did you change?" It was nice hearing more about them. I usually didn’t get this far when taking to people…it was nice.
"Oliver, mostly. And Micah, and later Levi.
Having pack—having people who called me on my bullshit while still loving me through it—that made the difference.
" He glanced back at me, his blue eyes serious.
"That's what we're offering you, Daphne.
Not just romance or partnership, but a support system.
People who will tell you the truth even when it's hard to hear, and who will stand beside you while you figure out what to do with it. "
The trail opened up ahead, and I caught my first glimpse of the view—a sweeping vista of valleys and mountains. The morning mist was still clinging to the lower elevations like cotton caught in the trees. I stopped walking, my breath catching at the beauty of it.
"This is the halfway point," Garrett said, coming to stand beside me. "The view at the top is even more spectacular, but I thought you might want to rest here for a minute."
"It's incredible." I couldn't look away from the landscape spread before us—rolling hills in every shade of green, the silver ribbon of a river far below, mountains blue with distance on the horizon. "I had no idea this was here. I've lived twenty minutes away for five years, and I never knew."
"There's a lot we miss when we're focused on just surviving." Garrett's voice was gentle, and I was glad I couldn’t hear any judgment in his voice. "The world is full of beautiful things. Sometimes we just need someone to show us where to look."
We stood there for a while, catching our breath and drinking water, letting the silence speak.
It wasn't uncomfortable—not the way silence usually felt to me, loaded with expectation or judgment.
This was companionable, easy, the kind of quiet that exists between people who don't need to fill every moment with words.
"Can I ask you something?" I said eventually, gaze still on the scenery around me.
"Of course." He grinned, as he glanced at me.