Chapter 32 #2
"What about you, Levi?" I asked, partly to deflect from my own anxiety, partly because I genuinely wanted to know. Gathering data helped me process, and right now I needed all the processing power I could get. "Have you figured out what you're doing for your date?"
Levi's whole face lit up, his blue eyes bright with that particular excitement that meant he'd found something good.
"I've got it all planned out. My buddy has a pottery studio, you know, the workshop space he rents out for classes?
He's letting me use it after hours. I'm going to teach her how to throw clay on the wheel. "
"Pottery?" Garrett raised an eyebrow. "That's... actually pretty clever."
"Right?" Levi was grinning now, the earlier tension about Trinity momentarily forgotten.
"It's hands-on, it's creative, and it's impossible to take yourself too seriously when you're covered in clay.
She spends so much time being careful and controlled…
I want to give her permission to make a mess. To laugh at herself. To just... play."
I filed that away. Levi understood something important about Daphne, that she needed space to be imperfect, to fail without consequences. It was a different approach than mine, but equally valid. Equally necessary.
"She laughed during the hike," Garrett said quietly, almost to himself. "When we reached the summit and the wind nearly knocked her over. She grabbed onto me and just... laughed. Like she'd forgotten she was supposed to be guarded."
"That's what we need to give her more of," Oliver added, settling into his own chair with a plate piled high. "Moments where she forgets to be afraid. Where she's just... present."
The kitchen fell quiet for a moment, all of us eating and thinking.
The bacon was perfectly crispy, the eggs fluffy and well-seasoned, Levi's doing, since he was the only one of us who could consistently produce edible breakfast food.
The coffee had cooled enough to be drinkable now, and I sipped it slowly, feeling the caffeine start to cut through the fog of early morning.
"We need to talk about logistics." Oliver's voice shifted into that practical Alpha tone that meant pack business. "Friday is Micah's date. Levi, when are you planning the pottery thing?"
"Monday," Levi with an informed grin on his face, "Gives her the weekend to recover from whatever emotional processing she needs to do after Friday. That and she does the market on Saturday."
"Good thinking." Oliver nodded approvingly. "Garrett already had his hike. I've got the greenhouse surprise planned for after Levi's date."
"Greenhouse surprise?" I raised an eyebrow.
Oliver's expression softened in a way that was almost startling on his usually controlled face.
"I'm converting the old greenhouse on the back of the property.
The one that's been falling apart. I want to rebuild it for her—give her a space to grow things year-round, expand her operation if she wants to. "
"Oliver." Garrett's voice was thick with something like awe. "That's..."
"It's practical," Oliver cut in, echoing my own earlier defense. "She's passionate about her garden, about her business. This gives her options. Resources."
"It's romantic as hell and you know it." Levi threw a piece of toast at him, which Oliver caught without looking. "Don't pretend you're not trying to woo her."
A faint flush crept up Oliver's neck, and I found myself smiling despite the lingering worry about Trinity.
This was what the pack was supposed to be, support and teasing and genuine care all tangled together.
And now Daphne was becoming part of it, slowly but surely weaving herself into the fabric of us.
"The point," Oliver continued, clearing his throat, "is that we're all making an effort. Showing her different sides of who we are, what we can offer. But we need to be coordinated about it. Give her space to breathe between dates, make sure we're not overwhelming her."
"Agreed." I nodded, pulling out my phone to check my notes. "She's processing a lot—the courting itself, the Trinity confrontation, whatever emotional work she's doing internally. Too much too fast and she might panic."
"You know her patterns better than any of us," Garrett put in though, not accusatory, just observant. "That morning on her porch—you really got through to her."
I remembered that morning in fragments: the way Daphne had sat beside me like a wild animal deciding whether to trust an outstretched hand, the careful honesty I'd offered because I knew she'd see through anything less.
The scent of her—honeysuckle and green growing things, that had made something ancient and primal stir in my chest.
"I was honest with her," I told him simply. "That's all. She's been lied to—by omission, by people pretending to be things they weren't—so many times that honesty became the most valuable thing I could offer."
"Keep that up Friday night." Levi pointed his fork at me. "Don't try to be something you're not. She's not looking for smooth romance-novel moves. She's looking for something real."
Real. I could do real. Real was all I knew how to be. My phone buzzed, and I glanced down to see a text from Daphne. My heart rate picked up, another data point for the file.
Still on for Friday? I found an old star chart in one of my books. Thought you might find it interesting.
The message was simple, straightforward, and yet it made something warm spread through my chest. She was thinking about our date. Thinking about me. Looking for ways to connect through shared interests.
I typed back: Absolutely still on. I'd love to see the chart. Historical astronomical documents are fascinating, they show how our understanding of the sky has evolved.
Three dots appeared, then: I knew you'd say something like that. See you Friday?
I'll be there. At nine on the dot.
I set down the phone, aware that the others were watching me with varying degrees of amusement.
"That smile," Levi observed, "is extremely un-Micah-like."
"Shut up." I couldn't quite make the words bite, couldn't quite suppress the warmth that was spreading through me despite my best efforts at control.
Garrett reached over and clapped me on the shoulder, his grip warm and solid.
"You've got this. Just be the guy who sat on her porch and told her the truth about what she was getting into.
That's the guy she said yes to." He was right.
I knew he was right. But knowing something intellectually and feeling it in your bones were two very different things.
"What about Trinity?" I inquired, needing to redirect, needing to think about something other than the anxious anticipation building in my chest. "Do we tell Daphne we know about the confrontation?"
Oliver considered this, his Alpha instincts visibly engaged.
"We let her tell us if she wants to. She stood her ground, that's her victory to share or keep private.
What we don't do is pretend we don't care.
If she brings it up, we acknowledge it. Tell her we're proud of her.
Make sure she knows the documentation is continuing. "
"If Trinity tries something Friday night?" The question had been nagging at me, a worst-case scenario I couldn't quite dismiss. "She’s figured out where Daphne lives from sending that package. Might try to follow us."
"Then she deals with all of us." Garrett's voice had gone hard, protective.
"I don't care if it's your date, Micah. If Trinity shows up, pack comes first. We shut it down together.
" I nodded, grateful. This was what pack meant—no one faced anything alone.
Whatever happened with Trinity, whatever challenges lay ahead with Daphne, we'd handle it as a unit.
The thought settled something in my chest that had been restless since I'd heard about the store confrontation.
"Alright." I pushed back from the table, gathering my dishes. "I need to do a final check of the viewing site, make sure there's nothing that might trip her up in the dark. And I should probably review my constellation notes."
"Of course you should." Levi's voice was fond despite the teasing. "Go on, Professor Romance. Go prepare your lesson plan." I flipped him off as I headed for the door, but I was smiling. Professor Romance. It wasn't entirely inaccurate.
Outside, the morning sun was burning off the last of the mist, painting everything in shades of gold and green.
I breathed in deeply, pine and earth and the faint sweetness of wildflowers from the field behind the house.
This land was becoming home in a way I hadn't expected, putting down roots despite my usual resistance to permanence.
Friday night, I'd be sharing it with Daphne.
Showing her the stars, yes, but also showing her this, the life we were building, the future we were hoping she'd want to be part of.
I just had to not mess it up.
The viewing site was at the highest point of the property, a small clearing that offered an unobstructed view of the sky in every direction.
I'd spent hours here over the past weeks, mapping the positions of the stars, timing the moonrise and moonset, and identifying the darkest windows for optimal viewing.
Tonight's conditions would be nearly perfect, a new moon, clear skies, low humidity.
The Perseids wouldn't reach their absolute peak until next week, but the pre-peak activity should still be impressive.
I walked the perimeter of the clearing, checking for rocks or roots that might cause a stumble in the darkness.
The grass was soft here, well-maintained from Garrett's occasional mowing, and I made a mental note to bring extra padding for the blankets.
Daphne would be lying on her back, staring up at the sky.
I wanted her comfortable, relaxed, able to focus on the wonder above rather than the ground beneath.
Wonder. That was what I wanted to give her.
The sense of something vast and beautiful and utterly indifferent to human problems. Sometimes perspective helped, knowing that the light hitting your eyes had traveled millions of years to reach you, that the universe was so immense that all our fears and failures were cosmically insignificant.
It could be comforting, that insignificance. Freeing.
I hoped Daphne would see it that way, that she wouldn't find my passion for astronomy boring or pedantic. I Hoped the careful planning would come across as thoughtful rather than obsessive.
Hope. There was that word again. I was doing a lot of it lately.
My phone buzzed again, and I pulled it out expecting another text from Daphne. Instead, it was Oliver.
Morrison just called. Trinity's been asking around town about our property…where exactly we are, what roads lead here. Wanted you to know.
The warmth that had been building in my chest cooled abruptly. Trinity was escalating, just as we'd predicted. Not deterred by Daphne's pushback, but motivated by it. Calculating her next move.
I typed back: Noted. We'll be vigilant Friday. If she shows up, we handle it together.
Oliver's response was immediate: Damn right we will.
I pocketed my phone and looked up at the sky—bright blue now, with wisps of cloud drifting lazily across.
In twelve hours, it would be dark, filled with stars and streaking meteors and infinite possibility.
Daphne would be here beside me, wrapped in blankets, watching the universe perform its ancient dance.
If Trinity tried to ruin it, she'd find out exactly what happened when you threatened something a pack had decided to protect.
I headed back toward the house, my mind already running through contingencies and backup plans.
That was who I was, the analyst, the planner, the one who thought three steps ahead.
But underneath all that calculation was something simpler, something that had nothing to do with strategy or logic.
I wanted this to work. I wanted Daphne to see the stars and feel the same awe I did.
I wanted her to feel safe with me, comfortable, chosen.
I wanted to be the kind of Alpha who could give her everything she deserved—not through grand gestures or smooth words, but through steady presence and honest devotion.
Two more days. Then I'd get my chance to show her exactly what that looked like.
Friday couldn't come fast enough.