Chapter 10 #2
Grady’s expression turns grim. “Kyle’s trying to get the full footage released, but by then the damage might already be done. Social media doesn’t care about facts.”
I think about how quickly I’d doubted Jared this morning, filing him away as another predatory Alpha based on a clip that showed only a fragment of the truth. “Does the resort know?”
“Emily, that’s the construction crew superintendent, have you met?” When I nod, he continues. “Well, she picked him up from security last night. She called Kyle to let him know what happened. He came to pick up the taxi as soon as there was light in the sky.”
Grady rubs his knee absently. “The Wright Pack will have the facts by now.”
The café patrons continue their conversation, words drifting across the street in fragments. “...should lock him up... Can’t trust Alphas like that...”
My fingers tighten around my coffee cup. “But releasing the full footage will prove his innocence, right?”
Grady lifts one shoulder. “People are falsely accused of crimes all the time. What people remember is the accusation, not the innocent verdict.”
“I understand being misjudged.” The words come out quieter than I intend. “Being told you can’t be what you are because you don’t match the part.”
Understanding flickers in Grady’s gaze as it drifts to my hands, large enough to palm a basketball, then to my shoulders, which strain the seams of my button-up shirt.
“It’s not fair. Neither for you nor Jared,” Grady says. “I’d like to think things will change someday, but…”
“A reason to keep pushing,” I agree, finishing off my coffee. “Thank you for telling me about the full footage.”
A smile touches the corners of Grady’s mouth. “Sometimes the truth needs a little help getting around.” He gestures to the grocery bag. “And sometimes, so do I.”
I return his smile, feeling the first genuine connection I’ve had with someone since arriving here. “Let me carry these to wherever you’re headed. It’s the least I can do after almost destroying your eggs.”
“Thank you.” Grady struggles to his feet. “I should have let Chloe come with me, but she would have grumbled at me the entire time until I gave up and went back to the island.”
I stand, toss my empty cup into the nearby trash can, and tuck his grocery bag under my arm. “You don’t live on the island?”
“No.” He squints toward the water. “Chloe was angling for it, but after the fire… I’m taking up space in Kyle’s cabin that Jared could be using instead of freeloading off Emily right now.”
My head whips toward him. “Wait, he’s staying with her?”
I don’t know why the revelation bothers me when I’ve avoided the female Alpha, but a sharp, uncomfortable tug comes from my chest.
“Emily might come across as gruff, but she’s actually quite kind.” A blush rises to Grady’s cheeks. “She’s the kind of person who will share her lunch with a stranger so they don’t go hungry.”
I study the slender Beta. “She doesn’t intimidate you?”
He lets out a bark of laughter. “Have you seen her? The woman is gorgeous. She’s also confident and taller than I am. Of course, I’m intimidated.”
The awe in his voice leaves no doubt we’re talking about two very different kinds of intimidation.
“She’s protective,” I allow. “Some of the Alphas who work at the docks were giving me a hard time, and she scared them off.”
Grady whistles in appreciation. “Would have loved to see that.”
As we walk along Harbor Street, our pace slows and, accompanied by the gentle tap of Grady’s cane on the boardwalk, he regales me with stories of his time in university with the Wright Pack Omega and his accident on the island.
The morning sun warms my back while vendors call out their wares, their voices mixing with the cries of gulls wheeling overhead. I adjust my grip on Grady’s grocery bags, matching my stride to his shorter steps.
“I don’t mean to slow you down,” Grady says, pausing to catch his breath near a flower stall. “The leg’s giving me hell today.”
“No rush.” I inhale the sweet scent of fresh-cut peonies. “I don’t have anything else to do today.”
A vendor holds out a bunch of lavender to Grady. He leans forward to breathe in the fragrance before he shakes his head in polite refusal.
We move on, weaving between clusters of tourists and locals.
“About what you said earlier,” I begin, the words catching in my throat. “About being misjudged.”
Grady glances up at me with curiosity.
“I’ve spent my whole life with people telling me I can’t possibly be an Omega.” The admission comes easier than expected. “Too tall. Too broad. Wrong build, wrong demeanor, wrong everything.”
A couple moves around us, and the woman’s eyes linger on my frame, followed by confusion when she catches my scent, and it contradicts her visual judgment.
“Alphas either dismiss me or approach me like I’m a conquest,” I continue. “Proof they can ‘make a big Omega submit’ or whatever fantasy they’ve concocted.”
Grady’s expression turns thoughtful. “People love their neat categories. When someone doesn’t fit, they try to force them into one, regardless.”
We stop at a produce stall where pyramids of apples glow red and green in the sunlight. Grady tests the firmness of a Honeycrisp with his thumb.
“I moved here for a fresh start,” I admit. “Quinn needed a tutor, and I needed to get away from an Alpha who wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
“And yet, here you are, giving Jared the benefit of the doubt.” Grady selects an apple, handing the vendor two dollars before adding it to the bag I carry. “Not many would, after your experiences.”
The observation catches me off guard. “I wasn’t at first. I saw the video this morning and assumed the worst.”
“But you changed your mind when you heard the full story.” He moves us forward. “That matters.”
We continue past stalls selling homemade jams, fresh bread, and local honey, the mingled scents creating an invisible thread we follow through the market.
My stomach growls, reminding me that I rushed out without breakfast.
“I’ve been feeling guilty,” Grady says suddenly, breaking our comfortable silence. “About overstaying my welcome on the island. I’ve been looking at apartments in Pinecrest, and wanted to check out the neighborhood.”
Grady gestures with his free hand toward a real estate office across the street. Its window displays photos of waterfront condos and forest cottages.
“It must be the season of needing a change.”
“That sounds like more than just moving location,” I say.
His lips purse in thought. “I’ve spent six years as Aurora Storm’s agent. I’m not sure what I’m doing with my life anymore, but staying in my old place, with all the links to that life, doesn’t fit anymore. Besides, all my doctors are in Pinecrest.”
The name takes a moment to register. “Wait—Aurora Storm, the fantasy author? You were her agent?”
“Still am, technically, though she handles most of her business herself now.” Pride and loss mingle in his voice. “She’s Chloe Wright these days. Married into the pack that owns Misty Pines.”
We stop at a honey vendor, where Grady examines tiny jars of wildflower honey, holding them up to the light to see the color.
“I left public education for similar reasons,” I tell him, surprised by my own openness. “Burnt out by bureaucracy, drowning in paperwork instead of focusing on teaching.”
“Yet you still tutor Quinn.” He selects a jar, adding it to our collection.
“The teaching itch never goes away.” I smile, thinking of my bright-eyed student. “Quinn reminds me of why I loved it in the first place. I live for that moment when understanding clicks. You can see it in their eyes and the pride in their posture.”
Grady pays for the honey, then motions toward a bench overlooking the harbor. We sit again, the grocery bags heavier with all of Grady’s new additions, and we watch sailboats drift across the water’s surface.
“Starting over is harder than I expected,” he admits. “I built my whole identity around being Chloe’s agent. Without that...”
“You don’t know who you are anymore,” I finish for him.
Recognition flashes between us, two men adrift in our late twenties. “Exactly.”
“Sometimes I think I made a mistake coming here,” I confess. “Teaching one child, no matter how brilliant, isn’t the same as having a classroom full of students.”
“Do you miss it? The classroom?”
I consider the question, watching a seagull dive toward the water. “I miss the certainty that what I was doing mattered.”
Grady nods, understanding without needing further explanation. “I used to write, before I became an agent. Had dreams of publishing my own work.”
“What stopped you?”
“Rejection. Doubt. The usual.” He shrugs. “When Chloe’s career took off, I let the easier path become my new purpose.”
A comfortable silence settles between us as we watch a fishing boat chug into the harbor, its deck stacked with crab pots.
The conversation flows easier than any I’ve had since arriving on the island, perhaps because we recognize in each other the particular loneliness of standing at life’s crossroads.
“What would you write about now?” I ask. “If you started again?”
The question surprises him. As he considers, his thumb rubs along the handle of his cane. “A story about people and connections. Those are always the most interesting for me.”
“So, no swashbuckling pirates?” I tease.
He laughs, the sound warming something in my chest. “I think there can be room for connections among pirates, don’t you, Professor?”
The teasing nickname draws a smile from me, and we sit a moment longer, two strangers becoming more.
Not quite friends, maybe, but heading in that direction.