“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.
