Chapter 13 #2
I leave him laughing, which feels like victory even if nothing's really resolved.
The drive to Araminta Vale's is peaceful, October painting the countryside in dying colors. I use the time to think, to plan, to talk myself out of this three times before committing again.
The shop is exactly what I expected—crystals and herbs and things that smell like feelings. The owner, a tiny Beta woman with silver hair, takes one look at me and laughs.
"Alpha, shopping for an omega, scared out of your mind. Third one today."
"Third?"
"Apparently there's some video going around. You're all panic-shopping." She winks. "Don't worry, I'll help you not fuck it up."
She leads me through the shop, explaining different scents, their properties, what works for anxious omegas versus contented ones. I learn more about omegas in twenty minutes than I did in years of biology classes.
"This one," she says finally, presenting a set of three candles. "Lavender base for calm, vanilla bean for comfort, and just a hint of cedar to remind her of Alpha presence without overwhelming. Not claiming, just... present."
"Cedar," I repeat, thinking of Rowan.
"Is that a problem?"
"No. It's perfect."
She'll smell the cedar and think of him. But maybe that's okay. Maybe that's what she needs—all of us, even when we're not there.
I buy the candles, plus some tea that's supposed to help with anxiety, and a soap that just smells nice because I'm already here and apparently I've lost my mind.
The drive to Hazel's bakery is shorter than I want it to be. I need more time to figure out what to say, how to explain that I'm falling for her without sending her running. That I want to protect her but not cage her. That I think about her so much it's affecting my spreadsheets.
The bakery is closed when I arrive, but I can see light from the kitchen. She's still there, probably baking tomorrow's inventory, probably covered in flour and exhausted and beautiful.
I knock on the back door—the one I fixed, which now opens smooth and silent.
"We're closed—" She stops when she sees me, eyes widening slightly. "Luca."
"Hi."
Smooth. Excellent start. Really showing that superior intelligence.
"Is everything okay?" She's wearing an apron covered in what looks like chocolate, hair piled on her head with a pencil holding it in place. There's flour on her nose.
"Fine. Yes. I just—" I hold up the bag. "Candles."
"Candles."
"For you. To help with... things."
Things. Jesus Christ, I run a business. I negotiate with suppliers. Why can't I form sentences?
"You brought me candles." Her voice is carefully neutral.
"Scent-calming ones. For anxiety. Not that you're anxious. Or maybe you are, which is fine. Normal. Understandable given... everything."
Stop talking. Stop talking right now.
"From Araminta Vale's," I add, because apparently I hate myself.
Her expression softens. "You drove two towns over to buy me anxiety candles?"
"The internet said they help."
"You researched omega wellness?"
"Extensively."
She laughs, soft and surprised. "Of course you did. Research and spreadsheets, right?"
"Spreadsheets are very versatile."
"I'm sure they are." She steps back. "Want to come in? I just pulled cinnamon rolls out of the oven."
The kitchen is warm, smells like heaven and hard work. She pours me coffee without asking—black, no sugar, exactly how I take it.
"You know how I take my coffee?"
"I pay attention," she says simply, then blushes. "I mean, you all come in enough. I notice things."
"What else do you notice?"
She looks at me, really looks, and I feel exposed in ways that have nothing to do with clothes.
"You count steps when you're nervous. Always in sets of four. You fix broken things without being asked because you can't stand disorder. You watch from the edges but see everything. You pretend to be cold but you're the first to help when someone needs it."
She sees me. Actually sees me.
"The video," I say, deflecting from the warmth in my chest.
"Oh god, you saw it?"
"Everyone's seen it. You're famous."
"I'm mortified."
"You looked happy."
She pauses in her rolling. "I was. Am. It's complicated."
"Three Alphas would complicate anyone's life."
"It's not just that." She turns to face me fully. "You all want something from me, but I don't know what. A mate? A girlfriend? A shared omega? I don't even know if you're a pack or just friends who happen to—"
"Want you," I finish. "We want you. However you'll have us."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only answer I have right now." I stand, move closer but not too close. "We're figuring it out. The three of us. How to do this without destroying our friendships or pressuring you or making things worse."
"And?"
"And we decided your choice. Always. No competition, no Alpha bullshit, just... honest courting. If you'll allow it."
She's quiet for a long moment, hands working dough automatically. "The town's going to have opinions."
"The town always has opinions."
"People are already calling me—" She stops.
"Calling you what?"
"Names. Pack-jumper. Knot-chaser. Other things."
Rage floods my system, hot and immediate. "Who?"
"It doesn't matter."
"It does to me."
"Luca." She touches my arm, and the contact burns through my shirt. "I can handle words. I survived worse."
Korrin. She survived Korrin.
"We want to increase security on the bakery," I say. "Cameras. Better locks. Maybe an alarm system."
"That's excessive."
"That's caring whether you're safe."
"I don't need three Alpha protectors."
"No," I agree. "You don't need us. But maybe you could want us anyway?"
She looks at me, flour on her nose, exhaustion in her eyes, something soft and scared and hopeful in her expression.
"I already do," she whispers. "That's what terrifies me."
I want to kiss her. Want to pull her against me and show her she's safe, she's wanted, she's going to be so fucking cherished she won't remember what it felt like to be anything else.
Instead, I step back.
"Lock up when you're done," I say. "Use the good locks, not just the latch."
"Yes, sir," she says sarcastically, but she's smiling.
"And try the candles. They really are supposed to help."
"I will."
I head for the door, pause. "Hazel?"
"Yeah?"
"The video doesn't change anything. How we feel, what we want—that was already there. Now it's just... public."
"Is that supposed to be reassuring?"
"It's supposed to be honest."
I leave before I do something stupid like tell her I've been drawing hearts around her name in the margins of my spreadsheets like a lovesick teenager.
Midnight finds Levi and me on the ranch house porch, beers sweating in the October chill. Rowan's truck pulls up, headlights cutting through darkness before dying.
"Started without me?" He grabs a beer from the cooler.
"You're late," Levi points out.
"Had to check the bakery. Make sure she got home safe."
"We all checked," I admit. "Separately. Like idiots."
"Caring idiots," Levi corrects.
We sit in silence, three Alphas on a porch, facing something none of us trained for.
"So," Rowan says finally. "We're really doing this."
"Apparently."
"All three of us."
"Unless someone wants to bow out?" Levi asks, but his tone says he already knows the answer.
No one moves.
"Her choice," I say firmly. "No competition between us. No undermining each other."
"Agreed," Rowan says.
"But we're going all in," Levi adds. "Full court. Show her what being ours would mean."
"Ours individually or ours collectively?" Rowan asks.
"Yes," Levi and I say simultaneously.
More silence. Then Rowan laughs, dark and amused.
"We're so fucked."
"Completely," I agree.
"But maybe in a good way?" Levi suggests.
"Jury's out."
We drink, stare at stars, think about a baker with hazel eyes who's got us all twisted up without trying.
"Security upgrades," I say. "On the bakery. Cameras, locks, maybe a panic button."
"She won't like it," Rowan warns.
"She'll hate it," Levi agrees.
"But we're doing it anyway?"
"Obviously."
Brothers first, we promised. But as I sit here planning how to protect a woman we all want, I realize maybe that's exactly what we're being. Brothers united in purpose, even if that purpose is courting the same omega.
"May the best Alpha win?" Levi raises his beer.
"May she win," Rowan corrects.
"May we all win," I amend.
We clink bottles, and somewhere across town, Hazel Holloway is probably asleep, surrounded by the scent of anxiety candles and cinnamon rolls, dreaming of things I hope include us.
Three Alphas. One omega. Zero idea what we're doing.
But we're doing it anyway.
Because she's worth it.
We’re already too far gone to stop.
And deep down I’m hoping this impossible thing might actually work.