11. Sadie
Sadie
T hursday morning and I’m standing in my kitchen staring at my coffee maker like it personally betrayed me. The ancient thing finally gave up completely, probably from shock after producing actual decent coffee when Levi brought the good stuff.
I’m contemplating whether walking to The Honey Crumb in my pajamas counts as acceptable small-town behavior when someone knocks at my side door.
I pad downstairs in my bare feet and peek through the peephole. Levi stands there with two cups and what looks like a small wrapped package. His dark hair catches the morning light and he’s wearing that soft gray sweater that makes his eyes look warm.
My body responds before my brain catches up. Slick gathers immediately and my nipples peak under my thin sleep shirt. Just from seeing him through glass. My scent shifts too—honeysuckle blooming sweeter, vanilla warming with interest.
Being around multiple interested alphas is intensifying everything. Like my body knows I’m surrounded by potential mates and won’t let me forget it.
“Coffee emergency,” I say, opening the door. His cedar and rain scent wraps around me immediately, mixing with the lingering woodsy warmth that still clings to my clothes from yesterday. From Caleb.
Levi’s nostrils flare when he catches the scent combination. Instead of looking jealous, his eyes darken with something that looks almost possessive. Like he’s cataloging exactly how much of Caleb’s scent clings to me.
“Good morning to you too.” He hands me a cup, fingers brushing mine. The brief contact sends warmth racing up my arm. “Figured you might need this.”
“You figured right.” I take a grateful sip and nearly moan. Rich, perfect, exactly what I needed. “You’re a lifesaver.”
“I have my moments.” He steps inside, and suddenly my small kitchen thrums with possibility. “How are you feeling about tonight?”
It takes me a second to remember what he’s talking about. “Tonight?”
“Your dinner with Caleb.”
Right. Dinner. With Caleb. Who kissed me yesterday and made me forget my own name.
Warmth blooms across my cheeks. “How did you know about that?”
“Small town. Also, he mentioned it.” Levi sets his cup on my counter and turns to face me fully. “Sadie, we need to talk about something.”
My stomach lurches. Here it comes. The part where he tells me I can’t keep doing this.
“Caleb and I had a conversation yesterday.” His voice carries something I can’t quite identify. “About you. About... working together instead of competing.”
My stomach does a little flip. “Working together?”
“The kind where two alphas realize they want the same thing.” He reaches for the wrapped package. “Which brings me to this.”
Inside is another leather notebook, smaller than the first one he gave me. When I open it, pressed flowers fall out. Not maple leaves this time, but three different flowers. Cedar sprigs, sandalwood blossoms, and bergamot stems.
“Three flowers,” I whisper.
“Three...” He trails off, letting me draw my own conclusions. Watches my face carefully as understanding dawns.
I stare at the notebook, at the careful way he’s preserved flowers that represent all of us. The thoughtfulness makes my throat tight with emotion.
“You and Caleb talked about this?”
“We talked about you deserving to be happy. About not making you choose if you don’t want to.” His thumb traces my cheekbone. “About working together instead of fighting over each other.”
“What if I mess it up?” The question comes out smaller than I intended.
“What if you’re exactly what we all need?”
The simple question catches me off guard. “You really think that’s possible?”
“I think maybe what feels impossible is actually just uncommon. But not wrong.” His thumb continues its gentle path along my jaw.
We stand there for a moment, the weight of what we’re discussing settling between us. Three alphas. One omega. A pack formation that goes against everything I thought I knew about my own limitations.
“Have a wonderful dinner tonight,” he says finally, voice dropping to that rough tone that makes my core clench. “Let Caleb take care of you the way you deserve.”
“And you’re okay with that?” The question comes out breathless, like I can’t quite believe what’s happening. Two months ago I couldn’t get a date, and now I have one alpha sending me off to dinner with another alpha like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“I’m more than okay with it.” He frames my face with both hands. “I’m looking forward to hearing all about it later.”
The heat in his voice makes my breath catch. “Levi.”
“Now go get ready for your day.” He kisses me then, soft and sweet but with heat underneath. “I’ll see you later.”
He winks as he heads for the door, leaving me breathless and aching.
After he leaves, I sit in my kitchen surrounded by the lingering scent of cedar and rain. Three different alphas. Three different ways of caring about me.
The thought follows me through my shower, getting dressed, opening the shop. I keep touching the notebook in my apron pocket, running my fingers over the pressed flowers.
What if I’m not omega enough to handle three alphas? What if my independence has made me too set in my ways?
Most omegas my age are already settled into established packs. At twenty-nine, I’m practically ancient by pack formation standards.
What if I’ve missed my window?
At nine exactly, Caleb shows up at my shop door with a toolbox and planning materials.
“Ready to turn this festival into something spectacular?” he asks, and there’s something different about him today. Lighter. The rigid control he usually carries has softened into something that looks almost playful.
“Ready as I’ll ever be.” I unlock the door, hyperaware of how his woodsy scent fills my shop immediately. “Fair warning, I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing on this scale.”
“I missed you,” he says quietly, stepping closer. Before I can respond, his hands frame my face and he kisses me. Soft but sure, like he’s been thinking about it since yesterday. When we break apart, my knees feel unsteady.
“Lucky for you, I specialize in complex logistics.” He sets his materials on my counter, rolls up his sleeves. The movement draws my attention to his forearms, and I have to look away before I do something embarrassing.
As I explain what Tessa needs for the festival, Caleb transforms into someone I remember from years ago. The big brother who could fix anything, organize any adventure, make the impossible seem manageable.
“This is actually perfect,” he says, spreading out papers across my counter.
“Perfect?” My voice cracks slightly. “Caleb, this is three times what I normally do.”
“Which is why we’re going to approach it strategically.” He moves closer to show me something on his planning sheets, and his warmth radiates against my side. “Look at this breakdown.”
I try to focus on his writing, but being this close to him makes my thoughts scatter. He smells like sandalwood and leather and something that makes me want to press my face against his neck.
“Main street displays can be modular units,” he explains, apparently unaware that his proximity is making me forget how to breathe. “Festival grounds get divided into zones. Nothing we can’t handle together.”
“That actually sounds manageable.”
“It is manageable. With proper planning.” He looks up from the papers, catching me staring at his mouth. Awareness sparks in his dark eyes. “Sorry, am I standing too close?”
“No.” The word comes out breathier than intended. “You’re fine. Perfect distance for... planning.”
Something shifts in his expression. More heat, less careful politeness. “Planning. Right.”
For the next few hours, we work on organizing the festival requirements.
But there’s an undercurrent of awareness threading through everything we do.
When he reaches across me to grab a pen, his arm brushes my shoulder.
When I lean over to show him something, my hair falls forward and he gently tucks it behind my ear—fingers trailing along my neck like he’s scent-marking me.
The way his scent mixes with the lingering cedar from Levi’s visit creates something rich and complex that calls to my omega biology.
Around noon, he glances at his watch. “I should grab us some lunch. We can eat here and keep working.”
“You don’t have to?—”
“I want to.” He stands, stretches in a way that makes his shirt ride up slightly, revealing a strip of tanned skin. “Besides, this is technically our dinner date, right? Just moved to lunch timing.”
“You’re counting working lunch as our dinner date?”
“I’m counting any time we spend together as exactly what it is.” He moves closer, backing me gently against the counter. “Time with someone I care about, doing something that matters to both of us.”
My pulse jumps against my throat. His scent deepens, sandalwood and leather growing richer with interest. My omega biology responds immediately, recognizing an alpha in my space who wants me.
“Caleb.”
“Besides.” His hands settle on either side of me, caging me against the counter but not trapping me. “This way we get to focus on what’s important instead of worrying about what fork to use.”
His thumb traces along my jaw. “I also know you’ve been stressed about money, about the festival, about whether you can handle everything that’s happening. This way, we work together and I still get to feed you.”
The thoughtfulness behind it makes my chest warm. He’s not trying to impress me with expensive restaurants. He’s trying to make things easier while still giving us time together.
“That’s actually perfect,” I admit.
“Good. Ham and swiss or turkey club?”
“Surprise me.”
When he returns with sandwiches from Millie’s, we settle at my work table surrounded by festival plans and flower samples.
“This feels very domestic,” I say, unwrapping my sandwich. Turkey club with avocado, exactly what I would have ordered.