“You okay?” Silas asked quietly, and through the bond I felt his concern mixing with his own surprise.
“I’m not sure,” I admitted. “I expected judgment. Gossip. People saying it was inappropriate or wrong or too much. I didn’t expect this.”
“Small towns are complicated,” Dane said. “They notice everything, and they have opinions about everything. But when they decide you’re one of theirs, they support you.”
“Even when your pack structure is unconventional?” I asked.
“Especially then,” Willa said, appearing beside us with her three alphas in tow. “Hollow Haven has so many multi-alpha packs. So what if you’re a bit unconventional. People should be allowed to show their love however they want to.”
Kit joined us, her phone already out. “Can I take a picture? For the town’s social media. We like to celebrate pack formations, and you four are going to be the feel-good story of the month.”
“I’m not sure we’re ready for social media documentation,” I started.
“Too late,” Kit said cheerfully. “The whole town watched you four dance around each other for weeks. Everyone’s invested now. We need the happily-ever-after photo.”
Before I could protest, she was arranging us. Me in the middle, the three alphas around me, all of us looking slightly overwhelmed but genuine. When she showed me the result, I saw what she meant. We looked like a pack. Not forced or awkward or uncomfortable. Just four people who belonged together.
“I’m posting this,” Kit announced. “With a caption about love winning and pack bonds being worth celebrating and you four being adorable. No arguments.”
She walked away before I could form a response, leaving us standing in the middle of The Brew while people continued to approach with congratulations.
“I don’t understand what’s happening,” I said to no one in particular.
“Community acceptance,” Dane said quietly. “They watched you coordinate emergency responses for five years. Watched you prove yourself over and over. That earned their respect. The pack bonds are just confirmation that you’re staying.”
“People in small towns care about two things,” Sarah said, appearing with four coffee drinks. “Can you do your job well, and are you going to stick around. You’ve proven both. The rest is just details.” She set the drinks on a table. “On the house. Welcome home, officially.”
We settled at the table, and people kept approaching. Some to congratulate us. Some to share stories of their own unconventional pack formations. Some just to say they were happy for us. Each interaction chipped away at the walls I’d built, the certainty that being different meant being rejected.
“This is surreal,” Beau said quietly. “I expected at least a few people to have problems with it.”
“Oh, I’m sure some do,” Silas said. “But this is Hollow Haven. We’ve had three multi-alpha pack formations in the past year. At a certain point, unconventional becomes the new normal.”
Jonah appeared with his packmate Wes Thatcher. “Congratulations,” he said simply. “You four coordinated that timber mill response like you’d been working together for years. Whatever you’re doing, it’s working.”
“Thank you,” I said. “That means a lot coming from you. I know your pack formation wasn’t easy either.”
“None of them are easy,” Jonah agreed. “But they’re worth it. And from what I saw at the mill, you four are going to be just fine.”
More people approached. Captain Rhodes from the fire station. Margaret from county emergency management. Several rangers Dane sometimes worked with. People from various departments who’d seen us function during emergencies and respected the work even if the pack structure was unusual.
By the time we finished our coffee, I’d spoken to at least thirty people. Not one of them had been negative. Not one had suggested our pack formation was inappropriate or wrong or too much.
“I don’t know how to process this,” I admitted as we finally prepared to leave. “I spent five years convinced that being different meant being alone. That bonding three alphas would be seen as greedy or inappropriate or proof that Nathan was right about me.”
“Nathan was never right about you,” Beau said firmly. “He was small-minded and controlling and couldn’t handle a partner who challenged him. That’s his failing, not yours.”
“And Hollow Haven isn’t wherever you came from,” Silas added. “This town judges you on what you contribute, not whether you fit their idea of proper pack structure.”
“Plus we’re adorable,” Dane said dryly. “Kit’s social media post already has two hundred likes. Apparently we’re the feel-good story of the season.”
Despite everything, I laughed. Because we were adorable, in a completely ridiculous way. Four disasters who’d somehow stumbled into exactly what we all needed, learning to function as a pack while the entire town watched and cheered us on.
As we walked back to the truck, I felt something shift inside me. The last piece of Nathan’s rejection finally releasing its grip. Because the community that mattered, the people I’d worked with and served and proved myself to for five years, didn’t see me as too much.
They saw me as exactly right.
“Thank you,” I said to all three of them. “For being willing to be publicly a pack with me. For not hiding the bonds or asking me to downplay them. For standing together even when we didn’t know how people would react.”
