27. Grace
27
GRACE
I t’s been a week since I found the eviction notice pinned to my door. A week of stewing in my frustration, of turning over possibilities in my mind and discarding them just as quickly.
Rowan offered me a place at the lighthouse, Jake said I could crash at his, but I’m not ready to accept either. Not yet.
I still have time before I have to leave. That doesn’t mean the anger isn’t simmering beneath the surface, ready to boil over at any moment.
“You okay?” Jake’s voice pulls me from my thoughts.
I blink, bringing myself back to the present. We’re outside my shop, carefully loading up crates of older flowers into the back of Rowan’s truck.
The early morning sun bright and gentle, but it does little to lighten my mood. Still, I nod.
“Yeah. I’m okay.”
Ash is quiet as we finish packing up, his jaw set, his gaze distant.
I know this whole situation is weighing on him, but I don’t have the energy to unpack that right now.
Rowan has been setting up my stall at the farmers’ market as a surprise, and these two were tasked with getting me there.
When we climb into the truck, I let out a breath.
“Thank you. For this. And for hiking the other day. And for—” I stop, shaking my head. “Just, thank you.”
Jake slings an arm around my shoulder briefly before starting the engine. “Of course, Grace.”
Rowan nods, catching my gaze in the rearview mirror. “Always.”
The market is already bustling when we pull up. People mill between stands, chatting and laughing, the scent of fresh bread and coffee wafting through the air.
My chest tightens with something almost like nervousness—excitement, maybe.
Then I see it.
The stall Rowan built for me.
It’s beautiful, solid wood, stained deep brown, with my shop’s name carved into a smooth sign above the counter.
There are shelves on the side for small arrangements, hooks for hanging dried herbs, and even a little display stand in the front for single-stem sales.
I climb out of the truck in awe, rushing to my stall. My fingers brush over the surface of the wood while Rowan watches me expectantly.
“What do you think?” he asks.
Emotion clogs my throat, and before I can stop myself, I throw my arms around him.
He catches me easily, lifting me off my feet as I hug him tight. When he sets me down, his lips find mine in a slow, lingering kiss.
He pulls back, grinning as he glances at Jake and Ash. “The Omega approves.”
They chuckle, and soon we’re unloading everything, arranging flowers, and setting up for the morning crowd.
The work is enough to keep my mind from spiraling. It feels good. It feels normal.
Then I realize I forgot something.
I frown, checking through my inventory again. “Damn. I’m already selling out of roses. I need more. We should have brought more.”
Rowan grabs his keys. “I’ll go get them.”
Ash stretches. “I’m getting coffee. Want anything?”
“You know how I take it.”
Jake leans in, brushing his lips over my forehead. “I’m going to that stall I get my romance novels from.”
I smirk. “Get me at least two.”
He winks before heading off, leaving me alone at my stall as the customers start to roll in. Locals stop by, delighted to see me, their enthusiasm warming something inside me.
For the first time in a week, I feel like I belong here again.
The market hums with life around me—laughter, the chatter of vendors, the scent of fresh bread mingling with the delicate fragrance of my flowers.
I breathe in deeply, letting the warmth of the morning sun melt some of the tension that’s been gripping me all week. I focus on arranging the bouquets, smiling at familiar faces as they pass by.
I sense him before I see him.
A presence lingers at the edge of my stall, tall and sharp, commanding attention without even trying.
I glance up, my fingers still wrapped around a bundle of daisies, and my stomach turns.
The man standing before me is dressed in a perfectly tailored three-piece suit, the kind that screams old money and quiet power.
His blond hair is neatly styled, his face clean-shaven, and there’s a smirk on his lips that makes my skin crawl.
I don’t know him.
But something about him is eerily familiar, like I’ve seen him in passing or in a photo somewhere. Yet, that’s not what unsettles me.
No, it’s the scent—Beta, despite the dominance rolling off him in waves. And when he lifts his hand to inspect a flower on my stall, the gold wedding band catches the light. Married.
Yet his eyes rake over me with an appreciation that makes me want to shrink away.
“You’re even prettier up close,” he muses, his voice smooth like aged whiskey. “I’ve been watching you. You have a real… glow about you.”
My fingers tighten around the daisies. “I’m spoken for.”
He chuckles, like I’ve just said something amusing. “That so? Shame. I was hoping you had a bit of adventure in you.” His gaze drops to my chest, lingering. “You look like a woman who needs a strong Alpha to take care of her properly.”
Disgust curls in my stomach. I straighten my shoulders, forcing steel into my voice. “I said, I’m spoken for. Stay away from me.”
His smirk widens, eyes darkening with something more dangerous. “And can your Alpha fight, sweetheart?”
I open my mouth to tell him to fuck off when I hear my name.
“Grace?”
I turn just in time to see Jake weaving through the crowd, two paperbacks in one hand, coffee in the other. His easy smile falters the second he takes in my expression. His eyes flick to the man beside me, then back to me.
“What’s going on?”
The man scoffs, looking Jake over like he’s already dismissed him as a threat. “This your Alpha?”
Jake’s jaw tightens. “Who the hell are you?”
The man steps closer to me, crowding my space. I take a step back, but he reaches for me, fingers brushing against my wrist. My stomach lurches.
Jake drops everything in his hands.
I don’t even see him move. One second, he’s standing next to me, the next he’s slamming his fist into the man’s jaw so hard that the sound cracks through the air like a gunshot.
Chaos erupts.
The man stumbles back, shaking his head as if to clear it, and then launches himself at Jake. Their bodies collide with a sickening thud. People gasp. Someone yells.
“Jake!” I scream, but my cry is drowned out by the sound of fists meeting flesh.
Jake drives his knee into the man’s ribs before swinging again, catching him in the temple. The man barely flinches, fueled by something raw and unhinged. He snarls, tackling Jake to the ground, fists flying.
They’re brutal, ruthless—it’s nothing like the fights I’ve seen at the local bar. This is something else entirely.
Jake’s lip splits open, but he doesn’t back down. He shoves the man off him, pinning him to the ground, fist raised.
“Jake, stop!” My voice is raw, desperate, but he doesn’t hear me.
Then Rowan is there, storming onto the scene, his voice a sharp crack through the chaos. “What the hell is going on?”
Neither of them stops fighting.
I push forward, trying to get between them, but a firm arm wraps around my waist, holding me back.
Ash.
His voice is tight, controlled, but I can hear the strain in it. “Jake, stop.”
Jake doesn’t. He cocks his fist back again, but Ash’s next words freeze the air.
“That’s Liam.”
Silence crashes over the market like a tidal wave. Jake’s body stiffens. His breath is ragged, his knuckles bloodied. Slowly, he looks down at the man beneath him.
Liam.
Ash’s brother.
A sick feeling coils in my stomach.
Jake’s hands flex, like he’s considering another punch, but then he shoves himself away, chest heaving.
Liam pushes himself up, wiping blood from his lip, his smirk returning like he isn’t at all bothered by the fact that he was just pummeled into the ground. He laughs, shaking his head.
“Damn,” he breathes, eyes locking onto Ash. “It’s about time I found you.”
Liam wipes more blood from his split lip, rolling his shoulders like shaking off a fight is just another Tuesday for him. Then, as if summoned by the mess he created, three more figures emerge from the crowd.
An older man in an even more expensive suit than Liam strides forward, the weight of his presence commanding immediate attention.
Beside him is an elegant woman in a tailored navy dress, her expression sharp enough to cut glass. Behind them, a younger woman follows, hesitant but composed.
Liam walks straight to her, placing a hand on her lower back like a man reclaiming his property.
His Omega. His wife.
“What is going on, son?” the man in the suit asks, his voice clipped, unimpressed.
Liam exhales harshly, casting a sneer at the market around him. “This town is full of hoodlums and backstreet people,” he complains, brushing nonexistent dust off his sleeve like he’s afraid the place might stain him. “I was just minding my business when I was attacked. We should sue the hell out of these peasants.”
Rowan growls, a low, warning sound from deep in his chest.
Ash stiffens. “Please stop,” he says, his voice tight.
His father turns to him, gaze cold and assessing. “What is the meaning of this?”
Ash swallows hard. The tension around him is suffocating. His shoulders square, but there’s something deeply unsettled in the way he looks at his family, like they aren’t supposed to be here.
“When did you get here?” he asks, his voice quieter now.
His mother waves a dismissive hand. “Early this morning,” she says, then wrinkles her nose, taking a slow inhale like something is offensive to her. “Why the hell does this place smell so fishy?”
Ash’s cheeks darken. “It’s a market where they also sell fish,” he mutters, clearly embarrassed.
His mother’s lips press into a thin, unimpressed line. Then she shifts her attention, eyes flicking between Rowan and Jake before landing on me. “And who are these people?”
Rowan turns away from her, facing the gathered crowd. His voice booms, sharp and impatient. “All right, show’s over! Go about your business!”
The murmurs fade as people return to their stalls, the spectacle no longer entertaining enough to hold them.
Ash exhales slowly, then looks back at his mother. “This is Jake and Rowan. And this is Grace.”
His father arches an eyebrow. “And are you going to introduce us or has this town stripped you of your manners?”
I tense, my stomach twisting. I don’t care who this man is. His words make me want to step between him and Ash, to shield my Alpha from the cold disapproval radiating off him.
Ash’s voice is steady, but there’s something tight underneath. “This is my mother and father, Mr. and Mrs. Bennett. And this is Liam’s wife, Rachel.”
Mrs. Bennett nods at Rowan and Jake, acknowledging them without warmth. Then, to my surprise, she steps toward me, offering her hand.
“Your stall is lovely,” she says, her tone polite but distant.
I’m still too shocked to process the compliment, so I mumble a quick, “Thanks,” shaking her hand briefly.
Ash’s father clears his throat. “Maybe we ought to talk somewhere private.”
Ash nods once, but before he moves, he turns back to me.
His family is watching. Waiting.
But he doesn’t seem to care.
He steps toward me, his voice softer when he asks, “Are you okay?”
I nod, still shaken. “Are you?”
His lips twitch, but it’s not quite a smile. “I will be.”
Then, with his father’s sharp gaze drilling into his back, he leans down and presses a kiss to my forehead.
Jake shifts beside me, brows raised. Rowan crosses his arms, looking unimpressed.
Ash straightens, giving both of them a look. “We’ll talk soon.”
And then he’s gone, disappearing into the market with his family.
For a moment, the three of us just stand there, the weight of everything still settling around us.
Then Rowan turns to Jake. “Are you okay?”
Jake wipes at his lip, nodding.
Rowan exhales, glancing toward the direction Ash left in. “So that’s his family.”
“Yup,” I murmur, still processing.
Jake snorts, running a hand through his hair. “Seems the circus is now in town.”