"I thought you might like this part," Oliver murmured, and there was something vulnerable in his voice, like he'd been waiting to see my reaction, hoping it would be this.
"Like it?" I laughed, the sound startled out of me. "Oliver, this is... this isincredible."
I pulled him deeper into the greenhouse, our joined hands swinging between us, and for the first time in days, weeks, maybe, the anxious knot in my chest loosened completely. Here, surrounded by growing things, by life and beauty and the careful cultivation of something wild, I felt like I could breathe.
We wandered for a bit longer and I found myself talking, -really talking about plants and growth patterns and the satisfaction of watching something flourish under your care. Oliver listened with genuine interest, asking questions that showed he was paying attention, making observations that proved he understood more about gardening than he'd let on.
"You know more about this than you pretended," I accused, pausing beside a massive bird of paradise in full bloom.
His smile was almost sheepish. "I may have done some research. Read a few books. Watched some videos."
"Why?" I asked, a frown on my face as I looked at this Alpha who was being so gentle with me.
The sheepishness faded into something more serious. "Because it matters to you. Because I wanted to understand the things you love, even if I could never love them the same way." He reached out to touch one of the bird of paradise's orange petals, careful not to bruise the delicate tissue. "That's what partners do, Daphne. They pay attention. They learn."
My heart did something complicated, a squeeze and a flutter and a warmth that spread through my whole chest. "Oliver..."
"You don't have to say anything." He turned back to me, and his eyes were soft, so soft. "I just wanted you to know. This," He gestured between us, around us, at the whole beautiful strange day. "This isn't about impressing you or winning you over. It's about showing you who we are. Who I am. And hoping that's enough."
Before I could think better of it, I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around him. Oliver went rigid for just a second, surprised, maybe, and then his arms came around me, pulling me against the solid wall of his chest. He was so warm, sobig, and his scent enveloped me like a blanket, rum and the underlying musk of alpha that made me want to curl up and never leave.
A rumble built in his chest, a deep, satisfied growl that vibrated through both of us and he tucked his chin over the top of my head, holding me like I was something precious, something worth protecting.
"Thank you," I whispered into his shirt. "For today. For understanding. For being patient."
"Always," he murmured back, and the word settled into my bones like a promise. "Always, Daphne." We stood there, wrapped in each other, surrounded by growing things and filtered sunlight, and for the first time in longer than I could remember, I let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, I could have this.
“Come let’s get you home. I think I took enough of your day today.” Oliver whispered as he let me go, but I could see the reluctance as he gave me a small smile and led me back out and to the care.
The drive home was different from the drive there. I sat closer to the center console, my body angled toward Oliver, watching the way the fading afternoon light played across his profile. We talked about small things, favorite books, foods weloved, places we wanted to visit someday. Easy conversation that felt like building something, brick by brick. When we pulled up to my cabin, the sun was just beginning its descent toward the treeline, painting the sky in shades of rose and gold. Oliver parked but didn't move to open his door, just sat there for a moment, looking at my little home with an expression I couldn't quite read.
"You've built something beautiful here," he said quietly. "The garden, the cabin, the life you've made... it's all you, Daphne. All that strength and care and stubborn determination. I hope you know how remarkable that is."
My throat felt tight again, but this time it wasn't from fear. "It wasn't supposed to be for anyone but me."
"And now?" He asked, and I could see the apprehension in his voice that made my heart hurt.
I thought about the question, really thought about it. About my cabin with its reorganized closets and empty spaces. About the pack's house with its coat hook by the door and crooked pillows I still wanted to straighten. About the way my omega had started to wake up, to want things it had denied itself for years.
"Now..." I took a breath. "Now I think maybe I'm ready to share it."
Oliver's smile was slow and warm, like honey in sunlight. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." I smiled back, and it felt real, not forced, not careful, justreal. "I'm still scared. I'm probably going to keep being scared for a while. I don't want to be alone anymore. I don't want to keep running from something that might be exactly what I've been looking for."
He reached across the console and took my hand again, bringing it to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to my knuckles. The gesture was old-fashioned, almost courtly, and it made my heart flutter like a teenager's.
"We'll figure it out together," he promised, his breath warm against my skin. "One day at a time. Just... us. Getting to know each other."
"Pack," I whispered, testing the word on my tongue.
Oliver's eyes darkened with something primal, and a low growl rumbled through the cab of the truck. "Pack," he agreed, and the word sounded like a vow.
I leaned across the console before I could lose my nerve, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. I felt his sharp inhale, the way his whole body tensed with restraint, the effort it took him not to turn his head and capture my lips with his.
"Goodnight, Oliver," I murmured against his skin, breathing in his scent one more time.
"Goodnight, Daphne." His voice was rough, strained, and when I pulled back, his eyes were more wolf than man, glowing with barely leashed alpha intensity. "Dream sweet."
