Chapter 20 Xaden
XADEN
Ipush through the door of Mairi Veterinary Services, the bell overhead jangling against the frame.
The afternoon sun slants through the blinds, cutting stripes across examination tables and metal cabinets.
Antiseptic burns my nostrils. I hate this scent.
Too clean, too sterile, nothing like the warm bite of garlic or the buttery sweetness that lingers in my restaurant.
Liam's got his back to me, reorganizing supplies on the far counter. Bottles click together as he moves them from one shelf to another. His shoulders are bunched tight, hands moving too fast. Something's eating at him.
"Emergency pack meeting?" I lean against the doorframe, crossing my arms. "This better be good."
He glances over his shoulder. "Garrick's not here yet."
"Then start talking while we wait." I push off and walk to the nearest examination table, running my hand along the cold metal surface. "What's got you rearranging the same shelf three times?"
Liam sets down a bottle of antiseptic harder than necessary. "It's about Violet."
The door slams open before I can respond.
Garrick fills the frame, flour dusting his jeans and coating his forearms up to the elbows.
His flannel shirt's untucked, hair sticking up like he's been running his hands through it all morning.
But his jaw isn't clenched the way it usually is. His shoulders sit lower, looser.
"Make it quick." He strides in, the door swinging shut behind him. "I've got three hundred croissants to finish before dinner service."
I study his face as he drops into one of the metal folding chairs. The legs scrape against the tile with a sharp screech. "You look different."
"Tired." He stretches his legs out, crossing them at the ankles. "Been up since four."
"That's not what I meant." I move away from the table, circling around to get a better look at him. "You're not wound tight as a spring for once."
Liam abandons the counter and walks over, wiping his hands on his lab coat even though they're clean. "How's Violet doing? After last night?"
Garrick's expression shifts. Something soft bleeds through the usual gruffness. "She's fine. Hungover, but fine."
I stop pacing and lean against the wall beside the window, arms still crossed. The afternoon sun warms my back through the glass. "You went to check on her this morning."
It's not a question.
"Yeah." Garrick runs both hands through his hair, more flour drifting down to his shoulders. "Made her breakfast. Stayed for a bit."
Liam perches on the edge of the examination table, one leg dangling, the other foot planted on the floor. His fingers drum against the metal surface. "And?"
Garrick stands abruptly, the chair scraping again. He paces to the window on the opposite wall, staring out at Main Street. A truck rumbles past. "And I think she's going to stay."
I push off the wall. "What makes you say that?"
"She let me in." He turns around to face us, hands shoved deep in his pockets. "Her apartment, her space. She was vulnerable as hell and she still let me take care of her."
Liam stops drumming his fingers. His whole body goes still. "That's not something she does lightly."
"No." Garrick pulls his hands out, crosses his arms instead. "She asked me to stay. Not ordered. Not hinted. Actually asked if I would stay with her while she slept off the hangover."
I move toward the center of the room, my boots thudding against the tile. "She's never asked any of us to stay before."
"Exactly." Garrick starts pacing again, moving from the window to the far wall, then back. Quick strides that eat up the small space. "And when I was there, in her kitchen, I realized something."
Liam slides off the table, landing lightly on his feet. He walks over to stand near the counter, giving Garrick room to pace. "What?"
Garrick stops moving. Plants his feet. Looks at both of us with something raw in his expression. "I'm done holding onto the past. Done using Rebecca as a reason to keep everyone at arm's length."
The words land heavy in the quiet clinic. Outside, a car door slams. Footsteps on the sidewalk fade away.
I straighten, dropping my arms to my sides. "You mean that."
"Yeah, I do." His jaw works, but his voice stays steady. "Violet's nothing like Rebecca. She works herself to exhaustion trying to build something here. She's nesting. Making that apartment into a home. And she trusted me enough to ask me to stay."
Liam moves to the sink, turning on the water and washing his hands just to have something to do. "So you want to move forward."
"I want to stop fucking this up by comparing every woman to someone who left years ago." Garrick resumes pacing, but slower now. More thoughtful. "Violet deserves better than my baggage."
I walk over to the examination table and hoist myself up to sit on the edge, legs dangling. "What changed? Between last night and this morning?"
Garrick stops at the window again, palms pressed flat against the frame as he stares out. "Watching her sleep. Knowing she felt safe enough with me there to actually rest. That's not something she gives easily."
Liam shuts off the water, shaking drops from his hands before grabbing a towel. "No, it's not. She's been running on pure adrenaline since she got here."
"Working three jobs," I add, swinging my legs slightly. "Helping everyone else build their dreams while barely keeping her head above water."
Garrick turns from the window, leaning back against the sill. "She's brilliant. The way her mind works, connecting things nobody else sees. Bob's hardware store is getting customers from Denver now because she wrote some copy that made people actually excited about shopping local."
"Mrs. Henderson's book club has a waiting list." Liam tosses the towel aside, moving to lean against the counter. "A waiting list. For a book club in a town of fifteen hundred people."
I jump down from the table, landing with a soft thud. "Sally's diner is packed every morning because Violet made pancakes sound like a religious experience."
"She sees potential everywhere." Garrick pushes off the window and walks to the center of the room where we're all naturally gravitating. "In everyone. Even in me when I was being a complete ass to her."
Liam runs a hand over his jaw, the stubble rasping. "She's got fire. The kind that won't quit even when she should."
"Beautiful too." I can't help adding it. "Not just her face, though Christ, that smile could stop traffic. But the way she lights up when she's talking about someone's project. The way she makes people feel seen."
Garrick's expression softens further. "She made me feel seen this morning. Not the grumpy baker everyone expects. The real me underneath."
A beat of silence. The refrigerator in the corner hums. Somewhere in the back, metal clangs.
"She's exactly what we need." The words come out of my mouth before I fully think them through, but they're true.
Liam straightens, his posture shifting from casual to serious. "As a pack."
"As a pack," Garrick confirms. He looks at both of us. "But we don't force her. She's been controlled for too long. This has to be her choice."
I start pacing now, moving from the examination table to the supply cabinet and back. "We keep supporting her work. Being there when she needs us. Showing her what pack life looks like without pressuring her into it."
"Patience." Liam moves away from the counter, walking to the opposite side of the room. "She's skittish for good reason. We give her time to see we're not like her ex."
Garrick crosses his arms again, feet planted wide. "We're also honest. No games. No pretending we just want friendship when we want more. She'll see through that in a heartbeat."
"Agreed." I stop pacing and face them both. "We make our intentions clear but respect whatever she decides."
Liam's jaw tightens. "Even if she chooses to leave."
The thought makes my chest constrict, but I force myself to nod. "Even then. Her happiness matters more."
"When the hell did we all grow up?" Garrick's mouth quirks up at one corner.
I snort. "Speak for yourself. I'm still planning to cook for her until she can't walk past my restaurant without coming in."
Liam grins, some of the tension breaking. "I'll keep finding reasons to run into her at the coffee shop."
"Finding reasons." I raise an eyebrow.
"Very legitimate reasons." His grin widens.
A high-pitched yowl cuts through the conversation. All three of us turn toward the back of the clinic. A small orange tabby sits on top of the tall metal cabinet, back arched, fur standing on end like it's been electrocuted. Bright green eyes glare directly at Garrick.
"What the hell?" Garrick takes a step back.
The cat hisses, tail puffing to twice its normal size. It looks like an angry orange bottle brush perched seven feet in the air.
I can't help grinning. "Made a new friend?"
Liam walks over to stand beneath the cabinet, looking up at the furious feline. "That's Marmalade. She's staying here while her owner's out of town."
The cat yowls again, the sound rattling off the walls.
Garrick frowns, still keeping his distance. "Why's she looking at me like I killed her family?"
"She doesn't like alphas much." Liam reaches up but doesn't try to grab her. "Especially ones with trust issues."
I move closer, thoroughly enjoying this. "She's got you figured out already."
"Shut it." Garrick shoots me a look, but his mouth twitches.
He approaches the cabinet slowly, hands loose at his sides. Attempts a smile that comes out more like a grimace. "Hey there, kitty."
The cat's response is immediate. It shrieks like a banshee, claws scrabbling against the metal cabinet top as it tries to get farther away.
"Jesus." Garrick backs up fast, hands raised. "I didn't even touch her."
I'm outright grinning now. "You're trying too hard. Cats smell bullshit from a mile away."
"I wasn't bullshitting anything." He glares at me.
Liam steps between us, his expression gentle. "Try being yourself instead of what you think will make her like you."
Garrick looks at him for a long moment. Then his shoulders drop. The defensive wall crumbles. He takes a breath and approaches again, but slower this time. His whole posture changes, becoming more open.
"Hi there." His voice comes out softer. More genuine. "Sorry I scared you."
The cat's ears twitch forward. The yowling stops. It meows once, softly, and the puffed tail starts to lower.
Liam claps him on the shoulder. "There it is. Authenticity."
I walk over to stand with them. "Same principle applies to Violet. She doesn't want us pretending. She wants the real thing."
"The grumpy baker who stress-bakes at four in the morning." Liam squeezes Garrick's shoulder before letting go.
"The chef who swears at his stove when a sauce breaks." I lean against the cabinet.
"The vet who talks to animals like they're people." Garrick looks between us.
The cat jumps down from the cabinet. Lands gracefully on the examination table. Studies Garrick for several long seconds, then rubs against his hand where it rests on the table's edge. Purring fills the quiet clinic.
"I'll be damned." Garrick stares down at the cat.
Liam grins wide. "Animals are excellent judges of character."
I push off the cabinet, moving toward the door. "So we're doing this. Going after her."
"Without forcing." Liam follows me.
"Without games." Garrick gives the cat one last scratch before joining us.
"With complete honesty." I pull open the door. The bell jangles.
We stand there for a moment, the three of us in the doorway. The decision settling between us like something solid we can all lean on.
"Time to show Violet what a real pack looks like." Garrick steps out first.
I follow, then Liam, who pauses to flip the sign to "Back in 15 minutes" before pulling the door shut.
Behind us, through the window, the orange cat sits on the examination table. Still purring. Like she's wishing us luck.
We're going to need it.