Chapter 39 #2
"Everything," I whispered. "Everything scared me.
The kiss. The feelings. The way I couldn't stop thinking about all of you, even when I tried.
The way I felt at your house---like I belonged there, like I wanted to rearrange your pillows and make your spaces mine.
" I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly cold despite the mild afternoon.
"I've never wanted to belong somewhere before. Not since Margaret. And she---"
My voice broke. Oliver made a soft sound---something between a rumble and a whine---and shifted closer on the bench. Not touching, but close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from his body.
"She left," I finished, the words like broken glass in my throat. "Everyone leaves. And I know that's not fair…I know she didn't choose to….she died…but it doesn't matter. The result is the same. I let myself belong, and then I was alone again."
"Daphne." Oliver's voice was rough, and when I glanced up, I saw something fierce in his expression---protective and tender and aching all at once. "Look at me."
I turned, meeting his gaze, and the intensity there made my breath catch.
"I can't promise you forever," he said slowly, each word deliberate, like he was placing stones in a foundation. "No one can promise that. Life is unpredictable, and people are fragile, and things happen that we can't control."
Something cold slithered through my chest. "Then why---"
"But," he continued, holding up a hand, "I can promise you this: we won't leave by choice.
We won't get bored or distracted or decide you're too much work.
We won't wake up one day and realize we've made a mistake.
" A low growl underscored his words, and the alpha authority in it made my omega sit up and pay attention.
"You are not a phase, Daphne. You're not a whim.
You're the woman we've been looking for, even before we knew we were looking.
If you choose us, when you choose us, we will spend every day proving that you made the right call. "
Tears blurred my vision. "You can't know that. You barely know me."
"Then let me know you." He reached out, slowly, giving me every chance to pull away, and brushed a strand of hair back from my face.
The touch was feather-light, barely there, but it sent sparks cascading down my spine.
"That's all I'm asking, Daphne. Not forever.
Not commitment. Just... the chance to know you.
To let you know us. To see where this goes without you running scared every time it gets too real. "
"I'm not---" I started, then stopped, because that was exactly what I'd been doing. Running scared. Pulling back. Building walls before anyone could breach them.
"You are," Oliver said gently, no judgment in his tone.
"And that's okay. You have every reason to be scared.
But Daphne..." He leaned in, just slightly, and his scent washed over me---honeysuckle and rum and home.
"Being scared doesn't mean you have to be alone.
It just means you need people who will be patient while you figure out how to be brave. "
After that there was silence before Oliver led me around to just walk.
We walked for hours. Past the rose garden, through the Japanese maple collection where the trees blazed in shades of crimson and gold against the grey autumn sky.
Past the herb garden, Oliver laughed when I spent twenty minutes examining their sage varieties and comparing them to my own and through the woodland walk where ferns grew thick and green beneath towering tulip poplars.
We talked. Really talked, in a way I hadn't let myself with any of them since that first dinner at their house.
He told me about growing up in a pack household, about his mother who had died when he was young, about his father who had raised him with equal parts discipline and devotion.
About how he'd known from childhood that he wanted to lead a pack of his own someday, to build something lasting and real.
"Garrett was first," he said, as we paused at the edge of a meadow filled with ornamental grasses swaying in the breeze.
"We grew up together but drifted apart…even though our families were close…
we had our own lives until we met again in college.
He was building furniture in the sculpture studio, when he was supposed to be doing abstract installations.
The professor hated it. I thought it was the most practical thing I'd ever seen. "
"That sounds like Garrett," I murmured, smiling despite myself.
"Micah came next, we worked at the same firm after I graduated." Oliver's voice warmed with affection. "He doesn't trust easily. When he finally let me in, I knew I'd never let him down."
"And Levi?" I asked curious as I thought of the man that reminded me of a golden retriever.
Oliver laughed, a real laugh that crinkled the corners of his eyes.
"Levi was an accident. The best kind. He was dating Garrett's younger sister for about five minutes before they both realized they were better as friends.
By then, he'd already wormed his way into our lives.
Into our pack." He shook his head, fond and exasperated.
"He drives me crazy sometimes. But I can't imagine us without him. "
"They're your family," I said quietly, understanding settling into my bones.
"They're my pack," Oliver corrected, but gently.
"Family by blood is an accident. Pack is a choice.
They chose me, and I chose them, and we built something together from nothing.
" He turned to face me fully, and the intensity in his gaze made my heart pound.
"That's what we're offering you, Daphne.
Not just romance, not just attraction. Pack.
Belonging. The kind of home you choose, with people who chose you back. "
My instincts keened at the words, a desperate, wanting sound that didn't quite make it past my throat. Pack. Belonging. Home.
Everything I'd never let myself want. I let him lead me into another section.
A massive Victorian structure of iron and glass, it rose from the landscape like a crystal palace, its panes catching the afternoon light and fracturing it into rainbows.
Inside, the air was thick and warm, heavy with humidity and the green scent of growing things.
"Oh," I breathed, and the word came out reverent.
Tropical plants soared toward the glass ceiling, towering palms, massive philodendrons with leaves the size of dinner tables, orchids cascading from hanging baskets in every color imaginable.
A stone path wound through the jungle of greenery, crossing tiny bridges over koi-filled streams, ducking beneath flowering vines that dripped with blossoms.
"I thought you might like this part," Oliver murmured, and there was something vulnerable in his voice, like he'd been waiting to see my reaction, hoping it would be this.
"Like it?" I laughed, the sound startled out of me. "Oliver, this is... this is incredible."
I pulled him deeper into the greenhouse, our joined hands swinging between us, and for the first time in days, weeks, maybe, the anxious knot in my chest loosened completely.
Here, surrounded by growing things, by life and beauty and the careful cultivation of something wild, I felt like I could breathe.
We wandered for a bit longer and I found myself talking, -really talking about plants and growth patterns and the satisfaction of watching something flourish under your care.
Oliver listened with genuine interest, asking questions that showed he was paying attention, making observations that proved he understood more about gardening than he'd let on.
"You know more about this than you pretended," I accused, pausing beside a massive bird of paradise in full bloom.
His smile was almost sheepish. "I may have done some research. Read a few books. Watched some videos."
"Why?" I asked, a frown on my face as I looked at this Alpha who was being so gentle with me.
The sheepishness faded into something more serious.
"Because it matters to you. Because I wanted to understand the things you love, even if I could never love them the same way.
" He reached out to touch one of the bird of paradise's orange petals, careful not to bruise the delicate tissue.
"That's what partners do, Daphne. They pay attention. They learn."
My heart did something complicated, a squeeze and a flutter and a warmth that spread through my whole chest. "Oliver..."
"You don't have to say anything." He turned back to me, and his eyes were soft, so soft.
"I just wanted you to know. This," He gestured between us, around us, at the whole beautiful strange day.
"This isn't about impressing you or winning you over.
It's about showing you who we are. Who I am. And hoping that's enough."
Before I could think better of it, I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around him.
Oliver went rigid for just a second, surprised, maybe, and then his arms came around me, pulling me against the solid wall of his chest. He was so warm, so big, and his scent enveloped me like a blanket, rum and the underlying musk of alpha that made me want to curl up and never leave.
A rumble built in his chest, a deep, satisfied growl that vibrated through both of us and he tucked his chin over the top of my head, holding me like I was something precious, something worth protecting.
"Thank you," I whispered into his shirt. "For today. For understanding. For being patient."
"Always," he murmured back, and the word settled into my bones like a promise.
"Always, Daphne." We stood there, wrapped in each other, surrounded by growing things and filtered sunlight, and for the first time in longer than I could remember, I let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, I could have this.
“Come let’s get you home. I think I took enough of your day today.” Oliver whispered as he let me go, but I could see the reluctance as he gave me a small smile and led me back out and to the care.
The drive home was different from the drive there.
I sat closer to the center console, my body angled toward Oliver, watching the way the fading afternoon light played across his profile.
We talked about small things, favorite books, foods we loved, places we wanted to visit someday.
Easy conversation that felt like building something, brick by brick.
When we pulled up to my cabin, the sun was just beginning its descent toward the treeline, painting the sky in shades of rose and gold.
Oliver parked but didn't move to open his door, just sat there for a moment, looking at my little home with an expression I couldn't quite read.
"You've built something beautiful here," he said quietly. "The garden, the cabin, the life you've made... it's all you, Daphne. All that strength and care and stubborn determination. I hope you know how remarkable that is."
My throat felt tight again, but this time it wasn't from fear. "It wasn't supposed to be for anyone but me."
"And now?" He asked, and I could see the apprehension in his voice that made my heart hurt.
I thought about the question, really thought about it.
About my cabin with its reorganized closets and empty spaces.
About the pack's house with its coat hook by the door and crooked pillows I still wanted to straighten.
About the way my omega had started to wake up, to want things it had denied itself for years.
"Now..." I took a breath. "Now I think maybe I'm ready to share it."
Oliver's smile was slow and warm, like honey in sunlight. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." I smiled back, and it felt real, not forced, not careful, just real. "I'm still scared. I'm probably going to keep being scared for a while. I don't want to be alone anymore. I don't want to keep running from something that might be exactly what I've been looking for."
He reached across the console and took my hand again, bringing it to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to my knuckles. The gesture was old-fashioned, almost courtly, and it made my heart flutter like a teenager's.
"We'll figure it out together," he promised, his breath warm against my skin. "One day at a time. Just... us. Getting to know each other."
"Pack," I whispered, testing the word on my tongue.
Oliver's eyes darkened with something primal, and a low growl rumbled through the cab of the truck. "Pack," he agreed, and the word sounded like a vow.
I leaned across the console before I could lose my nerve, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. I felt his sharp inhale, the way his whole body tensed with restraint, the effort it took him not to turn his head and capture my lips with his.
"Goodnight, Oliver," I murmured against his skin, breathing in his scent one more time.
"Goodnight, Daphne." His voice was rough, strained, and when I pulled back, his eyes were more wolf than man, glowing with barely leashed alpha intensity. "Dream sweet."
I climbed out of the truck on legs that weren't entirely steady, pausing to wave before heading up my porch steps. He waited until I was inside, until I'd turned on the lights and moved past the window where he could see me, before finally pulling away.
I watched his taillights disappear down the gravel road, my hand pressed to the glass, my heart full to bursting. My phone buzzed before I'd even made it to the couch.
Oliver: Made it home. Still thinking about the greenhouse. Still thinking about you.
Then, seconds later:
Levi: Oliver's floating. Like, literally floating. What did you DO to him?
Garrett: He won't stop smiling. It's weird. But good weird.
Micah: I hope the gardens were satisfactory. Oliver spent considerable time trying to figure the best place to take you today.
I laughed, a real, full laugh that echoed through my empty cabin and curled up on my couch with my phone clutched to my chest. Maybe empty wasn't the right word anymore.
Maybe the space was just... waiting. For the right people to fill it.
I typed back a response to all of them, something light and teasing that made my smile widen even as I sent it.
Then I set my phone aside, looked around at my carefully reorganized cabin, and felt something settle deep in my chest.
I had to tried to push them away…and they still came to me. It showed me that they really wanted me. Maybe I need to try to push these thoughts away. I know it was easier said than done. I can only go one day at a time and just hope they would be there at the end of this.