8. Lachlan
Chapter Eight
Lachlan
Ishould have left. My coffee had turned lukewarm ten minutes ago. My phone buzzed once in my pocket. Work—a reminder of somewhere I was supposed to be, something I was supposed to handle. Normally, I would have already been on my way, shifting my focus to the next task, the next responsibility.
But instead, I was there.
I was sitting at a small table near the window, pretending to read something on my phone with my attention fixed elsewhere. On her. Kaia. Even thinking her name felt…different, settling—like something I hadn’t known I'd been searching for had found a place to land.
I kept my posture loose, non-threatening, my focus angled down at the screen in my hand.
Anyone looking would assume I was just another lingering customer.
But every shift of movement behind the counter pulled at my awareness.
Every time she stepped closer or moved away, I knew.
And when her scent brushed the air—sea salt and wildflowers—I felt it.
She was working, focused and controlled.
But I could sense the cracks. Her shoulders were tense, her movements just a tad too deliberate, like she was thinking through each one instead of moving naturally.
She didn’t trust the space yet—no, she didn’t trust herself in it.
My jaw tightened. I didn’t know who put that look in her eyes or what taught her to brace like that, but I knew with absolute certainty I wasn’t going to be another reason.
I was watching Kaia wipe down the counter when Maria walked straight toward me, breaking my trance. She stopped at the edge of the table, arms crossed loosely over her chest, her expression unimpressed.
"You planning on moving anytime soon?" Blunt. No edge to it, though. Just direct.
I met her gaze and took a sip of my room-temperature coffee. "Eventually."
Maria snorted. "Yeah, well. Eventually isn't helping me right now." She jerked her chin toward the counter. "I'm sending her on break soon. You're going to go across the street and get her something to eat."
It wasn't a question.
I blinked once, then again. "What?"
Maria rolled her eyes like I was the problem. She leaned in just a fraction, lowering her voice. "You know what she needs." She straightened, already stepping back, then paused at the counter. Without looking at me, she added, "The diner across the street makes a good burger."
I stared at her for half a second, then stood.
There was no use arguing with Maria or questioning her.
She was always right. Everyone knew that.
I left the café and crossed the street without really thinking about it.
The bell above the diner door chimed as I stepped inside.
The place smelled like grease and sugar and something warm that had settled heavily in the air.
It was louder than the café, messier, more chaotic.
"Yeah?" the guy behind the counter asked.
I glanced at the menu, even though I’d been here countless times for my Omega and Beta. They loved this place. "A double hamburger, crinkle cut fries, and...a milkshake."
"Chocolate, vanilla, or strawberry?"
I hesitated. I didn’t know. I didn’t know what she liked.
I didn’t know anything beyond the way her scent burrowed into me like it had always been there.
"...Chocolate?" That seemed safe. Then I thought about my sisters and the women in my pack’s lives, and realized she wouldn’t eat in front of me if I didn’t also have food.
"Actually, double the order please. But with a vanilla shake for the second one. "
I paid, waited, then took the grease-stained bag and the two milkshakes back to the café.
The moment I stepped inside, my awareness snapped immediately into place.
Her. She was still here. She was still moving.
She was still...okay. Her scent hit me again, and it wasn’t just recognition.
It was alignment, like something in me slipped into place.
I exhaled slowly, grounding myself in the moment instead of the instinct. Maria looked up as I approached, and her gaze dropped to the bag, then back to my face. She nodded. "Good." Then she turned to Kaia. "Break."
Kaia blinked at her. "Right now?"
Maria jerked her head toward me without any subtlety. "Yes, right now. Go sit with the guy who just got you a milkshake and food." Kaia froze. She looked at me, then at the bag, then back to Maria.
There was confusion and hesitation, and a flicker of something else beneath.
I stayed exactly where I was, not moving closer, not holding up the food, not pushing.
Just waiting. The choice had to be hers—always.
A few seconds passed, then she set her cleaning towel down.
She untied her apron slowly, like she was giving herself time to think, to decide.
Then she stepped out from behind the counter. Toward me.
I crossed to my table by the window and set the bag and milkshakes down before taking my seat. Not too close; I didn’t want to crowd her. When she reached the table, she stopped for a second and looked at the food like she wasn’t sure what to do with it.
"Hey, I’m Lachlan. Take a seat," I said quietly. It wasn’t a command, just an option. And she did. Slowly, carefully, like she was still deciding if this was a mistake. The moment she settled in, the space shifted. It was quieter, more contained. I nudged the bag slightly toward her. "Eat, please."
Her eyes flicked up to mine—something sharp in them. Suspicion and confusion. She opened her mouth, and I waited. "You didn't have to do this."
"I know." I didn’t elaborate. There was no need. I didn’t make it something bigger than it was.
Her fingers tightened slightly around the edge of the table.
Then she reached for the bag and opened it.
The scent of fried food filled the space between us and her stomach betrayed her, growling loudly.
I tried to hide my smile. A faint flush crept into her cheeks, but she didn’t apologize or look away.
She just picked up a fry and took a bite.
Good. We sat in silence for a moment, the silence settling between us. Not uncomfortable, just...there. I rested my forearms loosely on the table, my hands relaxed, posture open. There was no pressure, no expectations.
"Vanilla or chocolate shake?" I asked. I got the vanilla for myself, but I realized I should give her a choice.
She glanced up at me. "Vanilla, please."
I smiled and pushed it toward her slowly. "You just get into town?" I asked after a minute. It was a neutral question, something easy she could answer.
To my surprise, she hesitated. Then she said, "Yes, a few days ago." I nodded. There was no follow-up, no probing.
She kept glancing up at me, studying. It looked like she was trying to figure me out. At least that meant she was thinking instead of just reacting. Then she spoke. "I should be scared of you." The words hit me like a punch to the gut. Scared? Of me? Why?
"But you're not," I said. I didn’t make it a question. I didn’t need to question her about her past while she ate. I just needed her to know she didn’t need to be scared of me.
And I knew she wasn’t. First, I couldn’t smell it.
Second, her body didn't lock up around me.
Third, she was still here, sitting with me.
Her grip tightened around her burger, then she muttered, "It doesn't make sense."
I shrugged. "Nope." None of this made sense.
Not the way she reacted to me. Not the way her scent had settled into me like it had always been there.
Not the way I was sitting here, missing work, buying milkshakes, waiting for a girl I had met less than an hour ago to decide if she was going to bolt. But it was real.
I watched her take another bite, and another. Her shoulders lowered just slightly. The tension didn’t disappear, but it softened. And when she reached for the milkshake, she only hesitated for half a second before taking a small sip.
Something in my chest eased in a way I never expected. I didn’t move closer or reach for her, or do anything that might break the fragile balance of the moment. We just ate. I watched her breathe a little easier, watched her decide not to run. For now.
That was enough.