Chapter 6 #2
“You’re all idiots,” a voice said from behind me, and I turned to see Sarah Pierce, Jonah’s omega, standing there with a coffee pot and an amused expression. “I’ve been refilling your cups for the past ten minutes and you haven’t noticed because you’re too busy having your alpha feelings meeting.”
“Sarah.” I felt my neck heat slightly. “This is a private conversation.”
“In a public coffee shop. Where I work. And where I’ve known Beau for three years and watched him avoid any kind of emotional connection like it might kill him.
” She topped off my mug even though I hadn’t asked, and I noticed she was careful not to spill a drop despite the pointed way she was looking at me.
“Sable Wynn is a good person. She’s careful.
She’s been hurt. And if you three are serious about being interested in her, you need to understand that she’s not going to make it easy. ”
“We’re not trying to make her do anything,” Silas said.
“Good. Because she doesn’t need fixing or saving or protecting.
She needs people who see her competence and respect it.
People who don’t try to crowd her or pressure her or make assumptions about what she wants.
” Sarah looked at each of us in turn, and I felt like I was being evaluated and found wanting. “Can you three do that?”
The question hit harder than it should have. Could I respect Sable’s competence without trying to protect her from dangers that might not exist? Could I be present without being overbearing? Could I want her without making it her responsibility to heal the guilt I carried?
“Yes,” Dane said, confident in his answer in a way I envied.
“We can try,” I added, because trying was all I had to offer.
“Trying is good.” Sarah smiled, and some of the tension left her expression. “And for what it’s worth, I think you’re doing the right thing by talking to each other first. Coordination is smart. Just don’t forget that she’s a person, not a problem to solve.”
She walked away before any of us could respond, leaving us with full coffee mugs and the uncomfortable awareness that we’d been called out by someone who knew us too well.
“So,” Silas said after a moment. “We’re doing this? We’re being reasonable adults who communicate and don’t compete?”
I looked at Dane, who was watching me with that same assessing gaze he probably used when evaluating whether someone was a threat. “I’m not looking to compete,” I said carefully. “But I’m not backing off either. Not unless she tells me to.”
The words felt like commitment. Like stepping off a ledge I couldn’t see the bottom of.
“Same,” Dane agreed.
“Then we’re agreed.” Silas pulled out his phone. “Give me your numbers and I’ll start a group text. Nothing fancy. Just coordination so we don’t accidentally overwhelm her.”
I recited my number, watching as Silas typed it in with quick fingers. Dane did the same, and I found myself in a group text with two alphas I barely knew, coordinating our interest in an omega who probably didn’t want any of our attention.
This was insane.
Silas sent out a test message: Welcome to the world’s most awkward coordination group. Rules: Don’t be a dick. Communicate. Respect her choices. Questions?
My phone buzzed in my hand, the notification feeling strangely significant. I typed back: Copy that.
Dane’s response came a second later: Understood.
“Good.” Silas pocketed his phone and stood, draining the last of his complicated coffee drink.
“I’ve got shift in twenty minutes. But before I go, one more thing.
If this does work out, if she is interested in any of us, we support that.
No jealousy. No sabotage. No making her feel guilty for choosing. ”
“Agreed,” Dane said without hesitation.
I nodded, even though the thought of Sable choosing one of them made something in my chest twist uncomfortably. But that was my problem to deal with, not hers.
“Right. So we’re doing this.” Silas headed for the door, then turned back. “And Beau? Stop looking like you’re planning your own funeral. She liked that coffee machine lesson. That’s something.”
He left before I could respond, and I was alone with Dane in the early morning light.
This was a terrible idea. Three alphas coordinating their interest in one omega who’d made it very clear she didn’t want any alpha attention. The odds of this ending well were slim at best.
But maybe that was okay. Maybe sometimes the odds didn’t matter as much as the trying.
“Think she’ll notice?” I asked.
“That three alphas are suddenly being very careful about how they interact with her?” Dane’s mouth twitched in what might have been amusement. “She’s an emergency coordinator. She notices everything.”
“So we’re probably screwed.”
“Probably.” Dane finished his coffee and stood, adjusting his sheriff’s badge out of habit. “But at least we’ll be screwed together. That has to count for something.”
He left, and I sat alone in the booth, thinking about cedar smoke and autumn rain and the way Sable had smiled when the coffee machine finally produced something drinkable.
Three years I’d kept everyone at arm’s length. Three years of telling myself I didn’t deserve connection because I’d failed when it mattered most.
And now I was in a group text with two other alphas, coordinating an approach to an omega who terrified me in the best possible way.
This was definitely a terrible idea.
But it was also the first time in three years I’d wanted something enough to risk failing at it.
And maybe, just maybe, that was worth the risk.
I pulled out my phone and looked at the group text again. Three names. Three alphas who were all damaged in their own ways, all carrying guilt and walls and reasons why they shouldn’t want anyone.
But we all wanted her anyway.
I typed out a message before I could overthink it: Tomorrow morning. I’m bringing her coffee. Just so you know.
Silas’s response came quickly: Noted. Good luck.
Dane’s followed: Keep us posted.
I pocketed my phone and headed out to start my shift, feeling like something had shifted. Like maybe for the first time in three years, I was moving forward instead of just surviving.
It was terrifying.
It was also the first thing that had felt right in a very long time.