Garrett was quiet for a moment, considering. "Levi said the pottery date went well. Better than well. He said she kissed him back like she meant it."
"I know. But that was Monday. It's Wednesday now, and she's been... careful. Distant. Her texts are shorter. She hasn't agreed to another date with any of us." I shoved my phone back in my pocket, frustrated with myself for checking it again. "I think we scared her. Or she scared herself. Either way, she's retreating."
"Or she's processing." Garrett laid a hand on my shoulder, his grip firm and grounding. "She's not like us, Oliver. She didn't grow up with a pack. She doesn't know how this works, how fast feelings can develop, how intense it can get. Give her time to catch up."
He was right. I knew he was right. Knowing something and feeling it were different things entirely, and right now my alpha instincts were screaming at me tofix it, to chase, to prove myself worthy of her in some tangible way. The greenhouse was supposed to be that proof. A gift. An offering. A physical manifestation of everything I wanted to give her but didn't have words for.
I will build you a place to grow things. I will give you roots. I will make you a home.
"Pack meeting tonight," I said, forcing my mind back to practical matters. "After dinner. We need to talk about the courting, the timeline, and..." I hesitated. "Trinity."
Garrett's expression darkened at the name. "Morrison called?"
"This morning. She's been asking around town about Daphne. Her property, her schedule, who she talks to. Playing it casual, like she's just making conversation, but he's not buying it."
"Neither am I." A muscle ticked in Garrett's jaw. "What's his read on the situation?"
"Escalation. Classic stalking pattern, he said. First the verbal confrontations, then the information gathering. He's worried about what comes next."
"We all are." Garrett's hand tightened on my shoulder before dropping away. "What do we do about it? Tell Daphne?"
The question had been eating at me since Morrison's call. She deserved to know. She had every right to know. Telling her meant watching that light in her eyes, the one that had been growing brighter every day, dim with fear. It meant giving her a reason to pull back even further, to retreat behind walls we'd only just begun to breach.
"Not yet," I decided, hating myself a little for it. "Not until we have something concrete. Right now it's just... suspicion. Patterns. Morrison's keeping an eye on her, and so are we. If anything changes, if there's any real threat, we tell Daphne immediately. But I won't put that weight on her unless I have to."
"And if she finds out we kept it from her?" He asked, glancing at me.
"Then I'll take responsibility. This is my call." I met his eyes, letting him see the resolve beneath the uncertainty. "She's finally starting to trust us. Finally starting to let herself hope. I won't be the one who destroys that. Not without cause."
Garrett studied me for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "Alright. Your call. But we tell the others tonight. Make sure everyone's on the same page."
"Agreed." He turned to go, then paused at the doorway, looking back over his shoulder. "For what it's worth, Oliver? I think you're making the right call. She's been through enough. She deserves a little more peace before the storm."
I hoped he was right. I hoped there wouldn't be a storm at all, that Trinity would lose interest, move on, find some other obsession to occupy her twisted mind.
But hope wasn't a strategy. And I hadn't gotten where I was by leaving things to chance.
The pack meeting convened at eight, after a dinner of leftover chili that Garrett had somehow turned into a passable soup. We gathered in the living room, me in the armchair I always claimed, Garrett on the floor with his back against the couch, Levi sprawled across one end of the sectional, Micah perched on the other with his ever-present notebook.
The fire crackled in the hearth, casting dancing shadows across the walls. Outside, the wind had picked up, rattling the windows with the promise of autumn storms to come. It was a good night to be inside. A good night for difficult conversations.
"Alright," I said, once everyone was settled. "Let's start with the courting. Where do we stand?"
Levi sat up straighter, unable to keep the grin off his face. "I mean, you all know where I stand. Monday was..." He made a chef's kiss gesture. "Incredible. She's incredible. The kiss was?—"
"We know," Garrett interrupted dryly. "You've told us. Seventeen times."
"Eighteen. And I'll tell you again if you want. The way she—" He was cut off by one of the other guys.
"Moving on," I said, though I couldn't quite suppress my own smile. Levi's joy was infectious, even when it made the waiting harder.
"She's pulling back," I confirmed. "I've noticed it too. The question is why, and what we do about it."
"We give her space," Garrett said firmly. "We don't push. We let her come to us."
"Agreed. But we also don't disappear." I leaned forward, elbows on my knees. "She's been alone for five years. She's used to people leaving. If we back off too much, she might read it as rejection. We have to find the balance—present but not pressuring. Available but not overwhelming."
"So... exactly what we've been doing," Levi said. "Just more of it?"
