Chapter 16 Violet
VIOLET
Six weeks. Has it really been six weeks since I broke down outside this bakery?
Since I drove into Cedar Ridge with nothing but hope and forty-seven dollars?
Feels like yesterday and forever ago all at once. But whenever I see them, the three alphas, I think about the way my body feels alive whenever I’m with them, emotionally and physically. They do things to me that no alpha has ever done.
I stare at the line of people stretching out the door of Rise & Shine Bakery and grin.
It's seven-thirty in the morning, the sun is casting golden light through the front windows, and there are at least fifteen people waiting outside.
Garrick must have announced some kind of special pastry and I can't wait to try it myself during my break today.
"Violet!" calls out Mrs. Henderson from the front of the line, her gray hair set in rollers and waves a manila folder in the air. "I need to talk to you about my book club's newsletter. Everyone says you're the best writer in the region!"
Pushing inside the bakery, I step behind the counter to start ringing up customers.
I grab my apron and put it on. Behind Mrs. Henderson, it looks like half the town crowds in.
Bob Martinez from the hardware store stands front and center, work apron dusted with sawdust, and what looks like a hand-drawn flyer clutched in his grip.
His weathered face brightens the instant our eyes meet.
"I need help with advertising copy." He smooths the paper on the counter.
"My grandson says I need to get with the times, put stuff on the internet.
You did such a good job with Sally's diner menu descriptions that people are driving from two towns over just to try those 'sun-kissed buttermilk pancakes. '"
I laugh, remembering the afternoon I'd spent rewriting that tragic menu because "pancakes - $6.50" wasn't exactly inspiring anyone to drive across county lines.
"That's because Violet has a gift," pipes up Mrs. Yang from the middle of the line. She adjusts her navy cardigan and stands straighter. "She wrote the description for my bed-and-breakfast website. Bookings are up forty percent!"
Tommy Briggs stands near the back, holding up his phone and nodding enthusiastically at whoever he's talking to. From his grin, I'd bet he's showing off the social posts I helped him write for his wife's photography business.
"This is a bakery," Garrick says as he emerges from the kitchen, flour dusting his sandy hair and coating his forearms. His expression is tight, jaw set in a way that makes it clear he's less than thrilled with the current situation.
The scent of fresh bread and cinnamon follows him, but there's something sharper underneath which makes my omega side flutter with unwanted awareness.
His dark eyes sweep over the crowd, then land on me. There's no anger there, just irritation. Frustration. Like he's dealing with something he doesn't have the bandwidth for right now.
"These folks are here for pastries," he says, his voice carefully controlled. "Not freelance consultations."
The temperature in the room shifts. Mrs. Henderson's hopeful expression falters, and Bob Martinez starts folding his flyer with defeated movements that make my chest tighten.
Garrick's just overwhelmed. Running a bakery with a line out the door while his counter becomes an impromptu business office probably isn't ideal.
I don't want to antagonize him or create a scene that'll make things uncomfortable for everyone.
"You know what?" I untie my apron and fold it carefully, placing it on the counter. "You're right. This probably isn't the best time or place."
I turn to Mrs. Henderson with a warm smile. "Why don't we meet at Sally's diner instead? We'll have more space to spread out there anyway."
"Oh, honey, are you sure?" Mrs. Henderson clutches her folder to her chest.
"Absolutely." I nod firmly, then gesture to Bob Martinez and Mrs. Yang. "All of you, let's head over to the diner. We'll make this work."
The group starts filing out, excited chatter filling the air as they coordinate. I grab my purse from behind the counter, avoiding Garrick's gaze.
"See you later," I say quietly as I head for the door, not waiting for a response.
The morning air hits my face, crisp and clean, and I take a deep breath. The group follows me toward the diner, their enthusiasm undiminished, and something settles in my chest. This is fine. I can help them somewhere else. Somewhere I'm not in the way.
Acouple of hours later, I'm set up in Sally's corner booth with my laptop open and Mrs. Henderson's newsletter ideas spread across the table. Sally had welcomed us with open arms and fresh coffee, and I'm finally starting to relax when the bell above the door chimes.
Liam walks in.
He scans the room before his eyes land on me.
The moment he catches sight of my expression, his entire posture shifts, alpha protective instincts kicking in so powerfully I can feel it from across the room.
His scent reaches me a second later: cedar and vanilla, edged with something warmer, more soothing.
It wraps around me like a physical touch, making my skin prickle with awareness.
Despite everything, my traitorous body wants to lean into it. Wants to close the distance between us and breathe him in. My omega side purrs with interest, and I have to grip my coffee mug tighter to keep myself rooted in place.
He crosses the diner in long strides, weaving between tables with easy confidence. "Violet." He stops beside the booth. His amber eyes are serious, searching. "Can we talk? Just for a minute?"
I glance at Mrs. Henderson, who sits across from me at the booth. She's watching with poorly concealed interest, her manila folder forgotten on the table between us. "Give me five minutes?"
She nods eagerly, gathering her papers and sliding out of the booth. "I'll go chat with Bob and Mrs. Yang about that cross-promotion idea you mentioned." She heads toward the corner table where the others have congregated, leaving me alone.
Liam slides into the space she vacated, the vinyl seat creaking under his weight. His large frame makes the booth feel smaller, intimate. His scent wraps around me, and I realize there's no escape from it now. No buffer. Just him and me and the table between us.
He leans forward slightly, resting his forearms on the table.
The movement brings him closer, and I can see the tension in his shoulders, the concern etched in the lines around his eyes.
The way he looks at me makes my pulse quicken.
There's concern in those amber eyes, yes, but there's something else too.
Something heated that makes my skin flush and my breath come a little faster.
I wrap both hands around my coffee mug, needing something to hold onto. Something to ground me.
"Garrick didn't send you, did he?" I ask quietly. "To smooth things over?"
"No." He shakes his head. "Garrick knows he could have handled that better. He's not angry with you."
I trace the rim of my mug with one finger, watching the dark liquid ripple. "Then why are you here?"
He's quiet for a moment. Sally appears with the coffee pot, filling the mug she'd placed in front of him without asking. He nods his thanks, then wraps both hands around it. Large hands that dwarf the ceramic. Hands that I can't help but notice, can't help but imagine...
I force my gaze back to his face.
"We're worried you're going to leave," he says finally, his voice low.
I blink, my finger stilling on the mug. "Leave?"
He shifts in his seat, leaning even closer.
"The town. Pack up and drive away like you drove here.
" His amber eyes meet mine, and there's genuine concern there.
Vulnerability. "You've made it pretty clear you're not interested in complications.
And after this morning, I thought maybe you'd decide it wasn't worth the hassle. "
My chest tightens. The way he's looking at me, like he's bracing for a blow, makes something twist inside me.
"I..." I start, then stop. My fingers trace the rim of my coffee mug again, a nervous gesture I can't seem to control. "I don't know."
His scent shifts, becomes tinged with something sharp. Worry, maybe. Or fear. His hands tighten around his mug.
I look down at my laptop, at the newsletter draft taking shape on the screen.
My hands are trembling slightly, so I press my palms flat against the table.
"I was supposed to go to Texas," I admit quietly, my gaze fixed on the screen rather than his face.
"To live with my cousin. That was the original plan when I left Mark.
I could help her the same way I've been helping people here.
Building her business, writing copy, managing her social media. She needs me."
"And here?" His voice is careful. Controlled. "Do you feel needed here?"
I look up at him then, and the intensity in his gaze makes my breath catch. Makes heat pool low in my belly. "That's not the point."
I push the laptop aside slightly, needing the distraction gone.
"I need you to understand something, Liam.
" I lean back against the booth, creating a bit more distance even as every cell in my body wants to lean in.
"For the first time in my life, I'm free.
Actually free. I make my own decisions, set my own schedule, help who I want to help.
I don't have someone breathing down my neck, telling me I'm doing it wrong, that I need to be smaller, quieter, more convenient. "
"No one wants you to be..."
"I know." I meet his eyes again, and the heat in his gaze makes my stomach flip.
Makes my omega side want to present, to submit, to give him everything he's not asking for.
"But I also need you to know that I'm not sure I want to be in a relationship again. Maybe we’ve all been getting carried away with things, with Garrick and Xaden late nights in the kitchen.”
I pick up my mug, then set it back down without drinking. "The idea of giving someone that kind of power over me..." I shake my head, my hair falling forward. "I can't. Not right now. Maybe not for a long time."
His hand moves across the table slowly, deliberately. It stops just short of touching mine. The space between our fingers is barely an inch, but it feels electric. Charged. I can feel the heat radiating from his skin.
"What if it didn't have to be like that?" His voice is low, intimate.
I stare at our hands, at the tiny space between them.
My pinky finger twitches, wanting to close that gap.
"It's always like that." My voice is barely a whisper.
"Someone always wants more. Wants to shape you into what they need.
And I can't..." I pull my hand back, tucking it into my lap. "I won't lose myself again."
His jaw tightens, and for a moment, I see the struggle in his expression.
The alpha instinct to pursue, to claim, to reach across the table and take what he wants.
It wars with genuine respect for my boundaries, and I can see the effort it takes him to hold back.
His scent intensifies, cedar and vanilla with an edge of something darker, more primal.
It makes my omega side sing with want even as my mind screams at me to protect myself.
He pulls his hand back slowly, mirroring my retreat. "I understand." His voice comes out rough, strained. "I don't like it, but I understand."
"Do you?" I lean forward again, unable to help myself.
My elbows rest on the table, bringing me closer to him despite my better judgment.
The air between us feels thick, charged.
"Because I need you and Garrick and Xaden to really understand.
I like you all. I do." My voice drops lower, more intimate.
"More than I should. More than is smart.
But I like my freedom more. And I'm not going to sacrifice one for the other. "
"We're not asking you to." His voice is gentle but firm. He leans back slightly, giving me space even though I can tell it costs him. "Whatever you need, Violet. However much space you need. We're not going anywhere."
The words settle between us, heavy with promise and patience. Part of me wants to believe him. Part of me is terrified to.
"I should get back to work," I say softly, gesturing to the laptop. "Mrs. Henderson's waiting."
Liam stands, the movement slow and deliberate. He pauses beside the booth, looking down at me. "For what it's worth? We'll respect any decision you make. All of us. Whether you stay or go to Texas or anywhere else. But we hope you'll stay."
He leaves, and I stare at my screen for a long moment, his words echoing in my head. Mrs. Henderson returns, chattering about cross-promotion strategies, but I barely hear her.
I'm free. And for now, that has to be enough.