Chapter 31 #2
"Maybe not." I picked up my basket, gathering the scattered threads of my composure. "But whatever happens next, it won't change anything. The pack chose me. I chose them. And nothing you do is going to change that."
I walked away before she could respond, my legs shaky beneath me but carrying me forward regardless. At the register, Mrs. Morrison looked up with concern as I set down my items. "Everything alright, dear? You look a bit pale."
"I'm fine." I forced a smile. "Just ran into someone I'd rather avoid."
Mrs. Morrison's eyes flicked toward the back of the store, where Trinity was still standing in the produce aisle, her expression thunderous. "Ah. That one." Her voice dropped. "She's been causing trouble around town. Asking questions about you, spreading rumors. My husband's keeping an eye on her."
"I know. The pack told me." I paid for my groceries, my hands only trembling slightly as I counted out the bills. "Thank you, Mrs. Morrison. For watching out."
"It's what neighbors do." She handed me my bag with a warm smile. "You're part of this community, Daphne. Whether you realize it or not. We look after our own."
The words stayed with me as I walked back to my truck, the paper bag clutched against my chest like a shield.
Part of this community. Our own. Such simple concepts, but they'd been foreign to me for so long that I'd forgotten what they meant.
I was loading the groceries into the passenger seat when I heard footsteps behind me.
I spun, heart hammering, but it wasn't Trinity.
It was Viola, her face flushed like she'd been hurrying, her dark curls escaping from their usual topknot.
"I saw Trinity," she said without preamble. "In the store. I was going to intervene, but by the time I got over there, you were already at the register and she was just standing there looking like someone had slapped her." Her amber eyes searched my face. "What happened? Are you okay?"
"I'm okay." And surprisingly, I meant it. "We talked. It wasn't pleasant, but... I stood my ground. I didn't let her make me feel small."
Viola's expression shifted from concern to something like pride. "Daphne. That's huge."
"It didn't feel huge." I leaned against the truck, suddenly exhausted. "It felt terrifying. My hands are still shaking."
"That's okay. Bravery isn't about not being scared—it's about doing the thing anyway." She pulled me into a quick hug, fierce and warm. "I'm so proud of you. A week ago, you would have run. Today, you fought back."
"I'm not sure I'd call it fighting back. I just... refused to crumble." I said with a forced laugh, feeling a bit sick for standing up for myself like that.
"That's the same thing, sometimes." Viola released me, stepping back with a grin. "Come on. I have thirty minutes before I need to be at an appointment. Let me buy you a coffee and you can tell me everything."
We walked to the small café on the corner, Viola ordered for both of us—some complicated espresso drink for herself, a simple lavender latte for me because she remembered what I liked.
We settled into a corner booth, and I found myself recounting the encounter with Trinity in more detail than I'd expected.
Viola listened intently, her expression shifting from worried to angry to proud and back again.
"She's unhinged," Viola said flatly when I finished. "Like, genuinely unhinged. The way she talked about Oliver—'the Oliver I know,' like they have some special connection…it's delusional."
"I think she really believes it." I wrapped my hands around my mug, letting the warmth seep into my cold fingers. "That they're meant to be together. That I'm just an obstacle."
"Which makes her dangerous." Viola's voice was serious. "Delusional people don't respond to reason. They just keep pushing until something breaks."
"I know. The pack is documenting everything. They've talked to the sheriff." I took a sip of my latte—sweet and floral, the lavender subtle enough to complement rather than overwhelm. "I'm not facing this alone anymore."
"No." Viola smiled. "You're not." We sat in comfortable silence for a moment, watching the morning light shift through the café windows.
Outside, Haven's Rest continued its quiet rhythms—people walking dogs, cars passing slowly, the ordinary life of a small town that I'd held at arm's length for so long.
"Can I ask you something?" Viola said speaking up after a few minutes of quiet.
"Of course." I blinked not knowing what she could want to ask.
"How does it feel? The courting, I mean. Having four men who want to be with you, who are actively pursuing you." She leaned forward, her expression curious but not prying.
I laughed despite myself. "It feels surreal.
Like I'm going to wake up and discover it was all a dream.
" I paused, searching for better words. "But also.
.. right? In a way I didn't expect. Each of them is different—Oliver is steady and protective, Garrett is patient and grounding, Levi is warm and playful.
And Micah..." I hadn't spent much time with Micah yet, but I'd seen glimpses.
"Micah is sharp and analytical, but there's gentleness underneath. "
"And they all want you." Viola shook her head in wonder. "You, Daphne. The woman who spent five years convincing herself she didn't need anyone."
"I know. It's ridiculous." I snorted softly as I looked down at my drink.
"It's not ridiculous. It's wonderful." She reached across the table, squeezing my hand. "You deserve this. All of it. Don't let anyone—especially not Trinity—make you think otherwise."
I squeezed back, feeling the warmth of her friendship like a tangible thing. "I'm trying. It's a process."
"Everything worth doing is." Viola glanced at her watch and grimaced. "I have to go—Lucas and Travis will kill me if I'm late opening again. But Daphne? What you did today, standing up to Trinity? That's the kind of thing that changes everything. Remember that when the doubt creeps back in."
She was gone before I could respond, leaving behind the echo of her warmth and the slowly cooling remains of her espresso.
I finished my latte alone, but it didn't feel lonely.
It felt like a pause—a moment of quiet between chapters, a breath before the next adventure.
I drove home with the windows down, letting the wind tangle my hair and the afternoon sun warm my skin.
The encounter with Trinity still lingered—a knot of tension in my stomach, a whisper of fear at the back of my mind but it was manageable now.
Contained. One more thing I'd faced and survived.
At the cabin, I unpacked my groceries and put on a pot of tea, moving through the familiar routine with new appreciation. This space I'd built, this life I'd created—it wasn't a prison anymore. It was a foundation. A launching pad for everything that was still to come.
My phone buzzed as I was settling onto the porch with my tea. A text from Levi: Monday still good for our date? Fair warning: wear clothes you don’t mind getting dirty.
I smiled and typed back: Monday is perfect. I'll wear clothes I don't mind ruining.
Another buzz, from Garrett: How are you feeling after yesterday? Any sore muscles?
A few, I admitted. Worth it though. That view is going to stay with me for a long time.
Good, he responded. There are more views to show you. When you're ready.
And then, unexpectedly, from Micah: Weather forecast looks clear for Friday—optimal viewing conditions for the meteor shower. I've prepared a list of constellations we should be able to identify.
The message was so quintessentially Micah—precise, informative, slightly formal—that I laughed out loud. I look forward to it, I typed back. I know almost nothing about astronomy, so I'll be relying on you to educate me.
That would be my pleasure, came the reply, and I could almost hear his voice behind the words—measured and serious, with just a hint of warmth underneath.
The thought no longer terrified me the way it once had.
Instead, it felt like possibility. Like the first green shoots of spring, pushing through soil that had been frozen for far too long.
Trinity's words echoed briefly—nothing, nobody, sad little omega—but I let them pass through me without taking root.
She didn't know me. She didn't know what I'd survived, what I'd built, what I was capable of becoming.
I did. And what I was beginning to realize was, that was the only opinion that truly mattered.
The sun was setting by the time I finished my tea, painting the sky in shades of amber and rose.
I watched the colors shift and change, thinking about everything that had happened, the confrontation at the store, Viola's encouragement, the texts from the pack—and felt something settle in my chest.
Peace. Fragile and new, but unmistakably present. I went to bed early that night, tired in a good way, and dreamed of mountaintops and meteor showers and the sound of four different voices saying my name like it meant something.
Like I meant something….and maybe, finally, I was starting to believe them.