She was quiet for a moment, studying me with those dark amber eyes that seemed to see more than I wanted them to. “What’s happening here?” she asked finally. “You, Beau, Dane. All of you suddenly being... present. It’s coordinated. Don’t tell me it’s not.”
“It’s not coordinated,” I said honestly. “If it were coordinated, we wouldn’t have all shown up with coffee on the same morning. That was just three idiots who didn’t communicate properly.”
“So you’re communicating now?”
“Trying to. We have a group text and everything. Very official.” I took a sip of my coffee. “Look, I’m going to be honest with you because I’m terrible at lying and you’d see through it anyway. We’re all interested. All three of us. And we met to make sure we weren’t going to turn your life into some territorial alpha nightmare.”
Her expression went carefully blank. “I’m not interested in being fought over.”
“We’re not fighting. That’s the point. We talked, we agreed we’re not going to compete or make things weird, and we’re all just... seeing if there’s potential for friendship. That’s it. No pressure. No expectations.”
“All three of you?” She raised an eyebrow. “Just coincidentally interested at the same time?”
“I know how it sounds. But yeah. All three of us noticed you. And instead of being idiots about it, we decided to be adults. Communicate. Not step on each other’s toes. Let you make your own choices without feeling pressured by any of us.”
She was quiet for a long moment, and I forced myself not to fill the silence with nervous chatter. My sensitivity was picking up on her emotions. Surprise, suspicion, and underneath it all, something that might have been cautious interest.
“I’m not easy,” she said finally. “I’m difficult. I question everything. I don’t do submission well. I’ve been told I’m more alpha than omega, and the person who told me that rejected me at our bonding ceremony in front of two hundred people.”
The words landed like confessions, and I felt my protective instincts surge. But I kept my voice calm and steady. “Then he was an idiot who didn’t deserve you.”
“You don’t know me well enough to make that assessment.”
“I know you well enough to know that anyone who wants you to be less of who you are isn’t worth your time.” I leaned forward slightly. “Sable, none of us are asking you to be anything other than exactly who you are. We’re just asking if we can get to know you better. As friends. No ulterior motives. No hidden agendas. Just three people who think you’re interesting and would like to spend time around you.”
“Why?” she asked bluntly. “Why do you care?”
Because your scent makes my sensitivity sing. Because you’re the first person in two years who’s made me want to stop hiding behind humor. Because being around you feels like coming home to a place I’ve never been.
But I couldn’t say any of that. Not yet.
“Because I think you’re lonely,” I said instead. “And IknowI’m lonely. And maybe lonely people should stick together. No pressure. No ulterior motives. Just... company.”
She studied me for so long I thought she was going to tell me to leave her alone. Then, finally, she picked up her coffee and took a sip. “One conversation. If you or your friends try to help me or fix me or protect me, I’m done.”
“Deal.” I raised my mug. “To friendship. Complicated, messy, absolutely-no-ulterior-motives friendship.”
She clinked her mug against mine, though she still looked skeptical. “And you three really have a group text to coordinate?”
“We do. Very tactical. Dane wanted code names but Beau vetoed.”
She laughed. Actually laughed, and the sound hit me harder than I’d expected. “You three are ridiculous.”
“Probably. But we’re sincere about being ridiculous, which has to count for something.”
We spent the next hour talking. Not about feelings or attraction or any of the complicated things simmering underneath. Just work. Terrible calls. Bureaucratic nightmares. The way small-town emergency services were held together with duct tape and stubborn people who cared too much.
She told me about the time she’d coordinated a response to a wildfire that turned out to be someone’s very aggressive barbecue. I told her about the patient who’d called 911 because their cat was “looking at them funny” and actually turned out to be having a stroke themselves.
It was easy. Comfortable. The kind of conversation that happened between people who understood each other’s work.
When she finally checked her watch and stood to leave, she was smiling.
“Same time next week?” I found myself asking.
She hesitated, then nodded. “Same time. But if you coordinate with your alpha club about it, I’m canceling.”
“No coordination. I promise. Just you and me and terrible emergency response stories.”
