Chapter 6
Beau
The Brew was busier than usual for seven in the morning, filled with the kind of people who needed caffeine before facing whatever their day held.
I’d arrived first, claimed a corner booth with sightlines to both the door and the emergency exits, and was nursing my second cup of black coffee when Dane walked in.
The county sheriff moved through the coffee shop with the same tactical precision he brought to everything else, scanning faces and assessing threats that probably didn’t exist. When his eyes landed on me, he nodded once and made his way over.
I’d known this conversation was coming. Had been avoiding it, actually, hoping that maybe if I ignored the situation long enough it would resolve itself. But Dane’s text yesterday had been direct: We need to talk about the coordinator.
No point pretending I didn’t know what he meant.
“Beau.” He slid into the booth across from me, bringing with him the scent of leather and gunpowder that probably never fully left his uniforms no matter how many times they were washed. His sheriff’s badge caught the morning light, a reminder that he was always on duty in some capacity.
“Dane.” I took another sip of coffee, wondering how to start this conversation. We’d worked together on enough emergency responses to have professional respect, but we’d never been what you’d call friends. We were both too careful for that. Too aware of what it cost to let people close.
I’d spent three years keeping everyone at arm’s length. Three years making sure no one got close enough to depend on me, close enough for me to fail them the way I’d failed that omega and her kid.
And now I was sitting in a coffee shop about to have a conversation about another omega. One who made my carefully maintained distance feel less like protection and more like cowardice.
“You texted about the coordinator,” Dane said, cutting straight to the point the way he always did. No small talk. No easing into difficult subjects. Just tactical efficiency applied to conversation.
“Sable Wynn,” I confirmed. “Yeah.”
“You interested in her?”
The blunt question should have felt invasive. Instead, it felt like relief. Like maybe I wasn’t the only one struggling with unwanted feelings and the guilt that came with them.
“Might be. You?”
“Might be.” He leaned back, his expression giving away nothing. Three years as county sheriff had probably made him even better at the poker face he’d learned in the military. “That’s a problem.”
“Doesn’t have to be. We could both back off. Plenty of other omegas in the county.”
“None like her.”
I’d noticed the same thing. Had been trying very hard not to notice it, actually, but my alpha had other ideas. Her scent had embedded itself in my memory after just two interactions, which was more than any omega had managed in three years.
“So we have a situation,” I said.
“We do.” Dane’s jaw tightened slightly, the only sign that this conversation was as uncomfortable for him as it was for me. “Though it might be more complicated than just the two of us.”
Before I could ask what that meant, the door opened again and Silas Vance walked in, spotted us immediately, and headed straight for our booth with a grin that suggested he knew exactly what this meeting was about.
Of course he did. Silas noticed everything, even things you didn’t want him to notice.
“Well, well,” he said, sliding in next to Dane without waiting for an invitation.
“The two most emotionally unavailable alphas in Hollow Haven, having coffee together at the crack of dawn. This can’t possibly be about a certain emergency coordinator with dark amber eyes and a scent that makes suppressants seem pointless. ”
Dane’s expression went flat. “How did you know about this meeting?”
“I didn’t. But I’ve been looking for an opportunity to talk to both of you, and when I saw Beau’s truck and your sheriff’s vehicle parked outside The Brew at seven in the morning, I figured the universe was giving me a gift.
” Silas flagged down the server and ordered something complicated involving oat milk and cinnamon.
“So. We’re all interested in Sable Wynn.
That’s either the beginning of a very awkward situation or the beginning of something else. ”
I set my coffee down carefully, watching Silas with the same caution I’d use approaching an unstable structure. The paramedic was always like this—too perceptive, too willing to say things other people danced around, too comfortable pushing into spaces where he probably wasn’t wanted.
“What do you mean, something else?” I asked.
“I mean we can either compete like territorial idiots, or we can be adults about this and not make her life complicated.” Silas leaned back, his usual playfulness still present but with an edge of seriousness underneath.
“She doesn’t strike me as someone who wants three alphas circling her like sharks. ”
“No,” Dane agreed. “She doesn’t.”
The silence that followed was heavy with unspoken questions. I studied my coffee cup, trying to figure out what I wanted from this conversation. What I wanted from Sable, if I was being honest with myself.
I’d spent three years avoiding this exact situation. Avoiding feelings. Avoiding connection. Avoiding the risk of failing someone who mattered. The guilt from that rescue was supposed to have taught me that I didn’t deserve to want anyone, especially not an omega who’d clearly been hurt before.
But Sable had stood in my kitchen and fixed my coffee machine, and something about the focused competence in the way she’d worked had made me feel like maybe I wasn’t as broken as I thought.
“So what are you suggesting?” I asked finally.
“I’m suggesting we don’t get in each other’s way,” Silas said simply. “We’re clear with each other about our interest, and we let her decide if any of us are worth her time. No sabotage. No competition. No making her uncomfortable because we can’t handle our alpha egos.”
“That’s...” Dane paused, clearly working through the tactical implications. I could almost see him running scenarios in his head, calculating outcomes and probabilities. “Actually reasonable.”
“I have my moments.” Silas took a sip of his complicated coffee drink when it arrived.
“Look, I barely know her. You barely know her. We’ve had what, one or two professional interactions each?
This isn’t about claiming her or competing for her.
This is about being honest with each other so we don’t make things weird. ”
“Things are already weird,” I pointed out. “Three alphas interested in the same omega in a town this small? That’s complicated.”
“Only if we make it complicated.” Silas pulled out his phone.
“I’m giving you both my number. We communicate.
If one of us is planning to ask her for coffee, we mention it.
Not for permission, just for transparency.
We don’t ambush her with all three of us showing up places.
We don’t compete. We just... exist. And let her make her own choices. ”
I thought about that. About the alternative, which was all three of us trying to pursue her independently while pretending we didn’t know the others were doing the same thing. That would be worse. That would make her feel hunted instead of respected.
“And if she’s not interested in any of us?” Dane asked, voicing the question I’d been too afraid to speak out loud.
“Then we respect that and back off,” Silas said. “All of us. No exceptions.”
“And if she’s interested in one of us but not the others?” I asked, needing to voice the scenario that made my chest tight with something that felt uncomfortably like jealousy.
The thought of Sable choosing Dane or Silas shouldn’t matter. Shouldn’t feel like losing something I’d never had in the first place. But my alpha didn’t care about logic, and the image of her choosing someone else made me want to argue that I could be better, try harder, be more worthy.
Which was ridiculous. I’d spent three years convincing myself I wasn’t worthy of anyone.
“Then we’re happy for whoever she chooses and we don’t make it awkward.
” Silas met my eyes, and I saw something serious underneath his usual humor.
“I’m serious about this. I’m not looking to compete.
I’m just looking to see if there’s something worth exploring.
If there’s not, I’ll live. But I’d rather know we’re all on the same page than spend the next few months stepping on each other’s toes. ”
I thought about the way Sable had stood in my kitchen, fixing the coffee machine with focused attention.
The way she’d let silence be comfortable instead of rushing to fill it with meaningless words.
The way she’d looked at me like she saw something worth seeing underneath the careful distance I maintained.
The way she’d made me want to try again, despite three years of guilt telling me I didn’t deserve to.
“What do you know about her?” Dane asked, gathering intelligence the way he always did. Understanding the situation before committing to a course of action.
“Not much,” Silas admitted. “She’s been in Hollow Haven for five years.
Came from Idaho, I think. She’s good at her job.
Really good. Doesn’t take shortcuts. Doesn’t defer to alpha posturing.
And she wears suppressants strong enough that most people probably don’t even register her as omega until they’re close. ”
“Which means she doesn’t want attention,” I said.
“Or she’s had bad experiences with alphas and she’s protecting herself.” Silas’s voice went softer, more genuine. “Either way, she deserves better than three idiots making her life complicated.”
“I’m not an idiot,” Dane said mildly.