Chapter 6
Grayson
The apartment above Ashpine Books smells like old paper and dust.
I stand in the middle of what's supposed to be both my living space and tattoo studio, surrounded by boxes I should've unpacked last night. The accountant who lived here before left it clean but empty—white walls, bare floors that echo, windows showing the gray December morning outside.
It'll work.
Has to work. This is what a fresh start looks like.
Tuesday. December 1st. New month, new town, new attempt at not screwing everything up.
I move to the window, looking down at Main Street. Gray sky and the mountains in the distance. The general store sits directly across from the bookstore.
Movement catches my eye.
Woman leaving the general store, locking up. Dark hair in a messy ponytail, wearing dark jeans and a green flannel jacket that's seen better days. Even from up here, I can see curves that make me look twice. She's got her shoulders up, defensive. Ready to fight or run.
I know that posture. Worn it most of my life.
She checks her watch, then heads down the street with purpose. Quick, efficient movements. Not hurrying, but not inviting conversation either.
Something about the way she moves catches my attention more than it should.
"Coffee?"
I turn, caught staring out the window like a creep on my first morning in town.
Levi Reyes stands in the doorway, holding two mugs.
My new landlord moves quietly for an alpha—that same thoughtful energy Elijah has.
Elijah's the one who recommended this place when I mentioned needing a fresh start somewhere small.
Told me his cousin Levi had space above his bookstore.
Somewhere I could disappear and rebuild.
Honeyridge Falls seemed like a good place to be invisible.
Clearly not starting well on that front.
"Thanks." I take the mug, inhaling steam that smells like cedar and rain—Levi's scent mixing with the coffee. He's calm, welcoming. Easy to be around.
Good. I'm not looking for complications in my new home.
"Appreciate you letting me move in today."
"Julian's been gone since October. Place was just sitting empty." Levi leans against the doorframe, amber eyes assessing without judgment. Then he glances at the window, mouth quirking slightly. "That's Bea Wilson. Works at the general store across the street."
I grunt, taking a drink of coffee to cover the fact that I was definitely staring.
"Ben Wilson's younger sister, if you end up at his garage," Levi continues. He's not teasing, just matter-of-fact. "She just moved back home recently. Omega."
Something in his tone makes me look up. "Recently?"
"Came home a couple weeks ago. Had some kind of situation with her ex at the Thanksgiving Festival last week.
" Levi sips his coffee, watching me with that same thoughtful assessment.
"I didn't see the whole thing, but apparently he showed up trying to talk to her, and she ended up kissing Deputy Seth Monroe to get away from the conversation. "
My hand stills on the mug. "She what?"
"Kissed the deputy. Right there in public." Levi shrugs. "Then pretty much ran. Her ex left town that night, and she's been dealing with the aftermath ever since. Small town gossip being what it is."
An omega desperate enough to kiss a stranger rather than deal with her ex. That takes guts. Or panic. Maybe both.
Something about that boldness is attractive. Inconvenient, considering I literally just moved here.
"Bet that's been awkward," I say, because Levi seems to expect some response.
"For everyone involved." He straightens from the doorframe. "Anyway, welcome to Honeyridge Falls. Where the gossip is relentless but the people mean well."
"Good to know."
"Elijah says you do good work. That's recommendation enough for me." Levi gestures to the main room with its high ceilings and natural light. "Studio space should work well up here. Separate entrance from the bookstore, so you won't disturb customers. Or they won't disturb you."
"That's the idea."
He leaves me with my coffee and the knowledge that I've already been caught watching the one person in town who probably doesn't need another alpha's attention.
Great start, Grayson.
I return to the window. The general store sits quiet across the street now, door locked. She's gone—probably to wherever she was headed with that purposeful stride.
Time to unpack and stop staring out windows.
By mid-morning, I've got the important stuff done. Tattoo equipment set up in the main room—chair, cart, sterilization station. Inks organized by color because chaos in my work space makes my brain itch. Sketches taped to one wall, designs I've been working on for months.
This is the part of me that makes sense. The art. The ink. The only thing I've ever been consistently good at.
Living space takes longer because I keep stopping to stare out the window like a creep.
I don't own much. Clothes that fit in two duffel bags. Books I've read so many times the spines are cracked. My music collection on my phone. Foster care taught me not to get attached to stuff. Places. People.
Twenty-four years old and I still pack like I might need to leave in a hurry.
Probably should work on that.
I'm hanging my favorite piece, a phoenix rising from flames that took me three weeks to get the feathers right, when movement outside catches my attention.
Bea Wilson, walking back toward the general store. Coffee cup in one hand, what looks like a muffin in the other. Still moving with that same purposeful stride.
She disappears into the store, and I realize I've been staring again.
Not my business. I came here to disappear, not get invested in local drama. Especially not in an omega who's clearly dealing with enough without some new alpha watching her from windows.
I go back to unpacking and tell myself to stop looking.
My phone buzzes around two. Elijah: Levi says you made it. Place work out?
Yeah. Thanks for the recommendation.
Good. Town's small but decent. People will leave you alone if you make it clear you want space.
That's the plan.
Three dots. Then: Give it a chance though. Honeyridge Falls has a way of growing on you.
I stare at the message for a long moment.
Give it a chance. Like I gave Pine Valley a chance? Like I gave Morgan a chance, thinking maybe this time would be different?
Elijah knows I needed out. Needed my own space. Needed somewhere I could build something that was mine without Morgan showing up to cause scenes at the shop. Three years together, and by the end she was calling constantly, accusing me of things I wasn't doing, making clients uncomfortable.
It wasn't violent. Just exhausting. Suffocating.
Foster care taught me how to disappear. Morgan reminded me why I needed to keep that skill sharp.
The irony isn't lost on me that the first person I'm attracted to here is an omega. Morgan's worst nightmare. The thing she was always terrified I'd want instead of her.
Maybe she knew me better than I knew myself.
I don't answer Elijah's text. Can't promise what I don't know.
By late afternoon, the place looks lived-in. Art on the walls. Equipment ready. Smells like leather and ink instead of dust and emptiness.
Not home. Never had one of those.
But it's mine. For now. That counts for something.
My stomach growls. Right. Food. Forgot about that.
The instant ramen I brought doesn't sound appealing, and I've been living on gas station snacks for two days. Pretty sure that's not sustainable long-term.
Probably should figure out the local food situation before I die of malnutrition in my cool new apartment.
Levi mentioned a diner—Millie's, maybe?
I grab my jacket and head out.
Cold hits me the second I step outside. That sharp December cold that makes your nose hurt. Main Street's quiet—few cars, lights coming on in windows. That blue-gray time between day and night when everything feels like it's holding its breath.
Millie's Diner is three blocks down. I can smell coffee and fried food from here, and my stomach growls loud enough to embarrass me.
I'm almost there when I see her.
Bea Wilson, locking up the general store. Closer now, I can see sharp features, green eyes that look tired, dark hair escaping that ponytail. Still wearing that worn jacket.
She turns. Sees me watching.
Freezes.
We're maybe ten feet apart. Empty sidewalk. Two strangers.
Her scent hits me properly now—cinnamon and apple cider, sharp winter air underneath. Warm and tart and so distracting I forget what I was going to say.
Pretty omega who looks exhausted and defensive and smells like everything I shouldn't want on day one in a new town.
My body doesn't care about logic. Blood's already heading south, pulse picking up.
Fantastic timing.
I should keep walking.
"You heading to dinner?"
She blinks. "What?"
"Dinner." I nod toward Millie's. "I'm new. Moved in today. Don't really want to eat alone."
Her eyes narrow. Assessing. "Do I know you?"
"No." I hold out my hand. "Grayson. Just moved into the apartment above the bookstore."
She looks at my hand for a beat, then shakes it. Her grip is firm, no-nonsense. "The tattoo artist." Not a question. Small towns. "Levi mentioned someone was moving in."
"That's me." I shove my hands in my pockets. This might be a terrible idea. She looks like she'd rather fight me than have dinner with me. "Look, if you're not interested, no problem. Just thought I'd ask."
Long pause. She's studying me like I might be a serial killer.
Fair.
Then something in her face shifts. Walls coming down just a crack.
"You know what? Sure." She locks the door with a decisive click. "Why not. I don't feel like facing the well-meaning interrogation at my parents' house tonight."
"Bea, right?"
Her entire body tenses. "How do you know my name?"
"Levi mentioned you work here. Said your brother Ben owns the garage." I keep my voice level. "That's all I know."
She watches me. Looking for the lie.