13. Emma #2
I tentatively climb the ladder. It’s only three steps, but from this vantage point, I can see over some of the corn stalks. I reach for the lights, lifting them to where Liam has instructed as he nails them back into place.
“Almost finished,” Liam says, stretching to hammer the last nail.
There’s a determined bleat from below, and I look down to see Maple eyeing the step ladder.
“Maple, no—” I start, but it’s too late.
Maple launches herself up the ladder, apparently determined to join me, but there isn’t enough room for both of us.
“Shit!” I yelp as I shift to accommodate her, but my foot slips off the edge of the step.
In desperation, I grab the string of lights, thinking they might stabilize me. Instead, they tear free from the freshly placed nails, and suddenly I’m swinging through the air like some omega Tarzan.
“Emma!” Liam drops his hammer and lunges to catch me.
For one glorious second, I’m airborne, suspended by nothing but Christmas lights and pure panic.
Then gravity remembers I exist.
I crash directly into Liam’s chest; the momentum sends us both tumbling to the ground. We land with a heavy thud, with me entirely sprawled on top of him, my face inches from his. His arms instinctively wrap around me, breaking my fall but trapping me against the hard planes of his body.
“Oof,” he grunts, his eyes wide with surprise.
Time freezes as we stare at each other.
I’m acutely aware of every point where our bodies connect: my chest against his, my hips aligned with his, his large hands splayed across my back.
His woodsy bourbon scent engulfs me, more potent than ever at this proximity.
It fills my lungs with each shaky breath, making my head spin worse than any suppressant side effect.
Before I can process the riot of sensations, a triumphant bleat and a significant weight land squarely on my back, driving me even more firmly against Liam.
I gasp as Maple settles herself comfortably on top of me, looking immensely pleased with her new perch and apparently deciding that this pile of humans makes an excellent resting spot.
Then I feel the deep rumble of Liam’s laughter vibrating through his chest, where I’m pressed against him. The sound is so unexpected, and despite being sandwiched between an alpha and a goat, I laugh too.
“Your face,” he manages between laughs. “When you were swinging—”
“I was terrified!” I protest, but I’m laughing too hard to sound indignant. “I thought I was going to die by Christmas lights!”
Apparently enjoying the vibrations of our laughter, Maple settles more comfortably on my back, making herself at home.
* * *
The drive into Autumn Falls proper takes only fifteen minutes, the winding country road carrying me past fields and forests painted in autumn colors.
The town is small but charming—a main street lined with locally owned businesses, a town square with a gazebo, and the kind of architecture suggesting most buildings have stood for at least a century.
I park near the pharmacy, keeping my head down as I hurry inside. As soon as I step inside, the elderly beta behind the counter looks up with the polite curiosity of someone who knows they don’t recognize a customer.
“Good afternoon,” she says. “Can I help you find something?”
As I approach the counter, I scan the shop to ensure no one will overhear, already feeling exposed. “I need to refill a prescription,” I say quietly. “Omega suppressants.”
Her expression doesn’t change, but she lowers her voice discreetly. “Do you have your prescription with you, dear?”
I produce the empty bottle, pushing it across the counter. She examines it, then looks up with an apologetic smile. “I’m afraid we don’t carry this particular brand or dosage. This is stronger than what we typically stock.”
My heart sinks. “Do you have anything similar? Any suppressants at all?”
She turns to her computer, typing briefly. “We have the standard formulation, but it’s about half the strength you’re taking. And we’d need a local doctor to write you a new prescription.”
The thought of seeing a doctor, explaining my situation, and possibly having my details entered into a system that could be tracked sends a spike of fear through me. “How long would it take to order this specific one?”
“At least a week, possibly longer. We don’t have many omega customers requesting extra-strength suppressants, so we don’t keep them in regular inventory.”
A week! I have one pill left. The panic must show on my face, because the pharmacist leans forward, her expression sympathetic.
“Are you staying in town long?” she asks gently.
“I’m here for the season,” I admit, seeing no reason to lie about that much.
Recognition flashes in her eyes. “Oh! You must be the new social media girl at Harvest Home Farm . Theo was here last week, talking about how their Instagram following exploded.”
Of course. Small towns. Everyone knows everyone. I smile and nod, hoping I don’t look as panicked as I feel.
“That’s me,” I confirm, forcing a smile. “Is there anywhere else nearby that might carry these? Another pharmacy?”
She shakes her head. “The nearest one that might be is in Snowflake Valley , about forty minutes north. But even they would probably need to order it.”
I thank her and leave quickly. Back in my car, I pull out my phone and search for online pharmacies.
I find one that carries my brand and offers express shipping—at an exorbitant cost that will eat into my carefully saved funds.
But I don’t have a choice. I add in their most robust, slick-absorbing panty pack.
I place the order, selecting overnight shipping, hoping it arrives on time.
When I return to the farm, my headache has intensified, and I feel slightly nauseated. I park near my cottage, planning to go directly there to apply a fresh scent patch, but Rowan is walking from the main house toward the barn and spots me immediately.
“Emma,” he calls, changing direction to intercept me. “Got a minute?”
I consider pretending I didn’t hear him, but that would be stupid. Better to get whatever this is over with quickly. “Sure,” I say, trying to sound normal despite the pounding in my head.
As he approaches, I can smell him more distinctly than before—burnt sugar and musk, but with undertones I hadn’t detected previously. Something earthy and compelling that makes my pulse quicken. The suppressants are definitely failing.
Rowan stops a few feet away, his head tilting as he studies me. “Everything okay? You look pale.”
“Just a headache,” I say, which is partially true. “Nothing serious.”
Rowan takes a step closer, and I have to force myself not to back away. His nostrils flare.
Panic flutters in my chest.
I need to take another dose.
I need to get away from him now.
“Actually, I’m not feeling great,” I admit, seizing the excuse. “Might be coming down with something. I should probably rest.”
“Of course. Can I get you anything? Medicine? Soup?”
“No, thank you. I just need to lie down for a while.”
He hesitates, then nods. “If you change your mind, text any of us. And Emma—” he pauses, his eyes holding mine, “don’t push yourself. The work can wait if you’re not well.”
He is so sweet and caring. I hate brushing him off like this.
I nod, already backing toward my cottage. “Thanks. I’ll be fine after some rest.”
Once I’m safely inside and the door is locked, I breathe normally again, but my panic grows.
What if he thinks I’m being totally rude and ungrateful?
What if the online order doesn’t arrive in time?
What if the pharmacy calls the doctor on the prescription and discovers I’ve been refilling it without authorization?
I lie on my bed, arm thrown over my eyes to block the light, intensifying my headache. I thought I’d found the perfect hiding place—a remote farm, a job that kept me busy but not too visible, and people who cared enough to respect my privacy.
A wave of guilt washes over me.
They’ve been nothing but kind since I arrived, and what have I given them in return?
Suspicion. Fear. Distance.
I’ve been so busy protecting myself that I’ve built walls higher than the corn maze, isolating myself from the people who have shown me more kindness than I’ve experienced in months.
A lump forms in my throat. I’ve been so focused on protecting myself from potential threats that I’ve forgotten how to be a person who connects with others.
Someone worth knowing. Worth caring about.
The truth is, I’m afraid because I care. Caring means vulnerability, and vulnerability has only ever led to pain.
But the most terrifying truth is that part I don’t want to run anymore. I want to stay, to see what these fragile connections might mean. To discover if Theo’s easy friendship, Liam’s quiet understanding, and Rowan’s protective presence could become something more.
Yep. I’m totally screwed because I’m developing feelings for not one, but all three men, my suppressants are failing, and my carefully constructed anonymity is threatening to unravel.
The rational part of my brain knows better.
I can never be safe.
Biology is biology.
Instinct is instinct. No matter how kind they seem now.
Would it, though?
Not all alphas are assholes… just the majority of them.
I press my palms against my eyes, willing the pain and doubt away. One day at a time. That’s how I’ve survived so far. Get through tomorrow. Wait for the suppressants to arrive. Stay hidden for just a little longer, and then you can reassess.