Chapter 17 Renovation Surprise #2
"SEVENTY-THREE—" I stand up so fast I get dizzy. "Absolutely not. No. That's insane."
"That's investment," Rowan corrects. "Split three ways, plus some favors called in for labor."
"You can't just drop twenty-five thousand dollars each on MY bakery!"
"Twenty-four thousand three hundred and thirty-three," Luca corrects. "And thirty-three cents, technically."
"I'm going to murder you."
"Murder me after you see the espresso machine," Levi says excitedly. "It's Italian. Does that fancy milk foam art."
"LEVI."
"What? You deserve fancy foam!"
I sink back onto the couch, overwhelmed. "I can't accept this."
"Then don't," Rowan says. "Consider it a loan."
"With interest—"
"No interest."
"That's not how loans work."
"It's how this one works."
"I'll feed you," I blurt out. "During construction. All of you. The whole crew. Breakfast and lunch."
They exchange glances.
"That's actually more expensive than—" Luca starts.
"Deal," Rowan interrupts. "You feed us, we build you a dream kitchen."
"And I still pay you back."
"We'll discuss it later."
"We'll discuss it never," I correct.
"Stubborn," Levi mutters.
"Pot, kettle," I shoot back.
We sit there, plans spread between us, and something settles in my chest. Not quite peace, but maybe its cousin.
"I'm sorry," I say quietly. "For freaking out. For assuming the worst. It's just—Korrin and his pack, they never let me own anything. Every decision had to go through them. My bank account was 'supervised.' My choices were 'guided.' Even the bakery was supposed to be theirs, originally."
"What?" Rowan's voice has gone dangerously low.
"The business loan. It was in his name. His credit. His dream of owning a chain of cafes." I laugh bitterly. "I was just supposed to run it. Like a employee with benefits."
"Benefits being?" Luca asks.
"Being his omega. Getting to bear his cubs. You know, the usual." The sarcasm tastes like old poison. "When I left, I had nothing. No credit, no savings, no anything. This bakery? It's the first thing that's actually mine."
"And now we're—" Levi stops, understanding dawning.
"Taking over," I confirm. "Or that's what it felt like."
"We should have asked," Rowan says. "Should have talked to you first."
"When? Korrin filed that complaint Friday afternoon. We had the weekend to act or you'd have been shut down today."
"You gave up your weekend for my bakery?"
"We gave up our weekend for you," Luca corrects quietly.
The weight of that, the simple truth of it, breaks something loose in my chest.
"Thank you," I whisper.
"Always," they respond in unison, and it's becoming our thing, this call and response of gratitude and permanence.
"I should probably shower," I say, realizing I'm still in yesterday's clothes with construction dust in my hair. "Then go see what they're doing to my baby."
"Your baby?" Levi grins. "The bakery or the espresso machine?"
"Yes."
They laugh, standing to leave, but I catch Rowan's sleeve.
"The forgery thing. That's illegal."
"Very."
"You could lose your job."
"Worth it."
"Rowan—"
"Hazel." He turns to face me fully. "I'd forge a hundred documents, lose a dozen jobs, fight the entire town council if it meant keeping you safe and happy. Get used to it."
He leaves before I can respond, which is probably good because my response would have been to climb him like a tree, and that's not helpful right now.
"We're proud of you," Luca says quietly from the doorway. "For accepting help. We know it's hard."
"Getting easier," I admit.
"Good." Levi grins. "Because wait until you see what we're doing with the display cases."
"What are you doing with my display cases?"
"Nothing!" They flee like the cowards they are, leaving me alone with construction sounds and complicated feelings.
I shower, dress in work clothes that can handle dust, and head downstairs to survey my kingdom under renovation.
It's chaos. Beautiful, purposeful chaos.
Workers who nod respectfully and check with me about decisions.
Levi is explaining the new layout with infectious enthusiasm.
Luca is documenting everything with typical precision.
Rowan directs traffic with the easy authority that makes everyone want to follow him.
"Hey, boss!" Jenkins appears from behind a wall of plastic. "Where do you want the coffee station?"
Boss. I'm the boss. This is mine, even with their help.
"Corner by the window," I say, surprising myself with the certainty. "Customers can watch the baristas work."
"Good choice," Rowan murmurs as he passes. "Natural light, efficient flow."
"I know my business."
"Yes," he agrees, and there's pride in his voice. "You do."
By noon, I've made forty-seven sandwiches, two pots of soup, and enough cookies to feed an army. The crew devours everything with gratitude that makes me tear up again.
"Best worksite food ever," someone declares through a mouthful of cookie.
"Worth the early morning," another agrees.
I watch my three Alphas—when did they become mine?—working alongside the crew. Levi charms everyone into working harder. Luca catches problems before they become disasters. Rowan is making sure everything exceeds code by miles.
Building something. Not tearing down.
"You okay?" Levi appears at my elbow, paint in his hair, and a smile that could power cities.
"Getting there," I say honestly.
"Good enough for now," he says, stealing a cookie. "But someday, I want to see you actually believe you deserve this."
"Working on it."
"We've got time." He winks. "Seventy-three thousand dollars worth of time."
"I'm paying you back!"
"Sure you are, sunshine. Sure you are."
He dances away before I can throw something at him, laughter echoing through my under-construction bakery.
Three Alphas. One massive renovation. Zero idea how I got this lucky.
Lucky isn't the right word.
Maybe it's what love looks like when it's not trying to control.
Or it could be just a typical Monday, and I have seventy-three thousand dollars worth of sandwiches to make.