Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Jared
Emily cuts through the market crowd with ease, her silver hair catching sunlight as she weaves between shoppers. I follow in her wake, fighting the urge to reach for her hand each time the crowd threatens to separate us.
The list in her grip flutters in the breeze, hardware items checked off one by one, while I focus on the rhythm of her work boots thudding on the sidewalk, anchoring myself to the sound instead of the whispers that follow us.
“Three-inch galvanized deck screws,” she murmurs, more to herself than to me, adjusting her course toward a hardware stall nestled between a flower vendor and a cheesemonger.
The scent of fresh-cut lilacs mingles with aged cheddar, an odd combination that somehow works in the chaos of Pinecrest’s Saturday market.
The last few dinners we’ve shared linger in my mind, of Emily sitting across from me, eating the meal we made together, the soft light catching in her silver hair as Mixie purred between us. Last night, she’d let her guard drop, her foot not moving away from mine under the small table.
Since that first kiss earlier in the week, I’ve held back, recognizing that pushing for more than she already gave would only make her retreat. But I couldn’t resist asking to accompany her today, inventing thin excuses about needing supplies myself.
A shopper bumps into my shoulder, a scowl twisting his face when he recognizes me. He mutters under his breath, veering away as if I’m contagious. The viral video may be old now, as far as social media goes, but the rumor mill continues to thrive.
“Ignore him,” Emily says without turning, her hearing sharper than I expected. “He’s the same guy who got drunk at the town festival and threw up in the mayor’s flowerbed.”
A quiet huff escapes me despite the knot in my stomach. “How do you know that?”
“I rebuilt his deck last summer. Heard all about his ‘unfair’ public intoxication citation.” She peers back, her gray eyes softening when they meet mine. “Small towns have long memories, but short attention spans. Something new will come along.”
Her words are meant to comfort, but we’re both aware this might not blow over so fast.
We reach the hardware stall, where Emily runs her fingers over bins of nails and screws with the critical eye others might reserve for jewelry. “Henry, has my order come in yet?”
The vendor, a weathered man with callused hands, tips his chin in greeting. “Back corner, same as always.”
Emily turns to me, her shoulder brushing mine. “Look around. I need to check these against my specs.”
The casual contact sends warmth spreading across my skin, leaving me feeling ridiculous. I’m not some teenager with a crush, yet here I stand, mesmerized by the brief pressure of her arm brushing mine.
How soon can I coax her into another kiss? How soon before I can have her melting into my arms again?
Emily’s head lifts from sorting through metal fastenings, red tingeing her cheeks. “Go on, then. Stop staring at me.”
Old Henry chuffs in amusement. “To be young again.”
Heat flickers under my skin, no doubt my pheromones, so I drop my gaze and reach for the screwdrivers. I pretend to compare sizes, stealing glances as she moves down the display. She handles every tool, weighing it, testing it.
I catch myself wanting to smooth the crease in her brow and cup her hand to feel what makes her discard one tool while approving another.
Someone bumps into the display next to me, sending a box of washers clattering to the ground, and a voice breaks through my reverie. “Sorry, excuse me—”
I bend to help collect them, finding myself face-to-face with Grady Finch. His cane hooks over his forearm as he balances a grocery bag on his hip, awkwardly stooping to gather the scattered metal pieces.
“It’s okay, I got it.” I scoop up handfuls of washers, noting how his bad leg extends to the side.
“Thanks. Clumsier than usual today.” Grady straightens, and recognition dawns. “Oh, hey, Jared. Didn’t think I’d run into you here.”
The simple acknowledgment without judgment settles over me like a gift. “Just running errands.”
He adjusts his hold on his grocery bag, which emits the faint scent of fresh bread. “You’re still staying with Emily?”
Heat creeps up my neck. “For now.”
For forever, if I can have my way.
His head lowers. “If you need to, I can always—”
Before he can finish, Emily approaches, her arms loaded with packages of screws and a coil of galvanized wire.
“Grady.” She inclines her head in greeting. “Didn’t expect to see you in Pinecrest. Thought you’d be hiding in Kyle’s cabin, working.”
“Fresh air and perspective,” he replies with an easy shrug. “Plus, Holden threatened bodily harm if I didn’t bring back the fancy flour he needs for tomorrow’s bread experiment.”
Emily pays for her purchases, tucking them into the canvas bag slung over her shoulder. When she turns back to us, I’m surprised to find Grady still lingering, his weight shifted to his good leg, grocery bag now dangling from his fingertips.
“Mind if I walk with you a bit?” he asks, directing the question to both of us. “I’m heading toward the book stalls next.”
“Fine by me,” Emily says with a shrug that tries to suggest indifference but doesn’t quite achieve it.
We continue down the market street, Grady falling into step on Emily’s other side. The crowd parts around us, some faces curious, others hostile. I keep my eyes forward, pretending not to see the mother who pulls her child closer as we pass.
“Missed you at lunch yesterday,” Emily says, a soft lift at the corner of her mouth that she doesn’t offer many people.
“Oh, well…” Grady looks away, flustered by her attention. “As you said, I’ve been working.”
A mother with two children barrels toward us, and without missing a step, Emily cups Grady’s elbow to draw him out of their path.
I stare at her hand on him, wrestling with the surge of emotion her casual touch triggers. Instinct insists Emily belongs with me, but this Beta awakens her protective side, and I can’t start acting jealous when she hasn’t even acknowledged our bond.
Hell, I’m pretty sure she hasn’t even noticed it yet. Auren really did a number on my sweet Alpha, leaving her with so many walls I sometimes worry they’ll never come down.
But that kiss gave me hope.
Emily pauses at a booth selling carved wooden handles, running her thumb along the polished grain of a chisel grip. The vendor hovers at a respectful distance, saying nothing as she tests the balance of each piece.
“For the new set?” Grady asks, motioning toward her selections.
“The old ones are wearing thin.” She selects three handles, adding them to her growing collection. “And I’ve been meaning to try spalted maple.”
Their conversation flows with the ease of people who have shared conversations I wasn’t a part of. I know Emily carves wood from the pieces in her house, but I haven’t seen her work on anything since I moved in.
I stand apart from them, watching Emily as she animatedly discusses wood types and grain patterns, a glimpse of passion she usually keeps hidden.
The crowd thickens as we approach the center of the market, forcing us closer together. Emily’s arm brushes mine again, before she steps ahead to navigate through a dense cluster of shoppers, making space for Grady and his cane.
I trail behind, hyperaware of each point of contact.
“Over there.” Grady tilts his head toward the bookstalls that line the eastern edge of the square. “Leif is already raiding the educational section.”
Through gaps in the crowd, I spot the tall Omega at a table piled high with books, his broad shoulders unmistakable even at this distance. Quinn stands beside him, her small hand clutching the edge of his jacket as she points at a display of colorful children’s novels.
When we approach, Leif looks up, his periwinkle eyes widening when they lock onto mine. The last time we spoke was at the dock, washing the water taxi together, and the tentative friendship we formed remains fragile.
“Morning. Finding everything you need?” He directs the question at Emily, but his gaze flicks back to me before settling on Grady with visible relief.
“Just about.” Emily gestures to her bag. “New hardware for a project at home.”
Quinn bounces on her toes, breaking the tension as she waves a book with a Komodo dragon on the cover. “Mr. Leif is getting me new books for science! This one has real facts about lizards.”
“Sounds fascinating,” Grady says, leaning down despite his bad leg to examine her selection. “I bet there’s a whole chapter on how they’re related to dinosaurs.”
As they chat about prehistoric creatures, I catch Leif watching me, his face unreadable. When our eyes meet, he gives a small, cautious nod. It’s more acknowledgment than I get from most people these days.
Without discussion or apparent decision, the five of us drift between stalls together, Quinn inspecting random bits and bobs, Leif and Grady discussing a new author, while Emily examines metal fixtures at a craftsman’s booth.
I hover nearby, not quite part of any conversation but somehow included in their orbit.
It strikes me how unlikely this grouping would have seemed a few weeks ago, with the reserved Alpha superintendent, the injured Beta, the imposing Omega tutor with his young charge, and me, the outcast Alpha no one wants to claim. Yet here we are, moving through the market as a loose unit.
When Emily catches my eye over a display of hand-forged hinges, the ghost of happiness lights her gray eyes, and I forget my flash of jealousy at seeing her attention directed toward Grady, or my uncertainty over whether Leif and I are friends.
Nothing else matters so long as I keep pulling more and more smiles from Emily.
The tentative comfort of our impromptu group shatters when we reach the food stalls. The air shifts, conversations dropping to murmurs as we pass tables of diners clutching steaming cups and half-eaten pastries.