"It's fine." The words came out sharper than I'd intended. I took a breath, softening my tone. "They're just people, Eleanor. Neighbors. Nothing more."
"Of course," she agreed, but there was a knowing quality to her voice that made my skin prickle. "Just neighbors who happen to have declared they're courting you in front of half the town."
"That was a misunderstanding." I finally looked at her, needing her to understand. "Oliver never stated we were courting. Trinity made the assumption.”
Eleanor studied me with those sharp eyes that missed nothing. "And what about Garrett? I heard you went to his property. Something about apple trees?"
How did she know that? Had Garrett mentioned it in town? Or was the Haven's Rest gossip mill just that efficient?
"Professional consultation," I said firmly, almost exasperated at even having this conversation. "He needed advice on pruning old trees. I have experience with orchards. That's all it was."
"Uh-huh." Eleanor turned back to her display, but I could see the small smile on her face. "Well, for what it's worth, they seem like good men. Old man Jack raised his son right, and from what I've heard, the whole pack is solid. Could do worse for neighbors."
"I'm not looking for anything beyond neighbors," I insisted, but the words felt hollow even to my own ears.
"Sometimes the best things in life are the ones we're not looking for," Eleanor said quietly. Then, before I could respond, she brightened and called out to an early customer, leaving me alone with thoughts I didn't want to examine.
The market filled up quickly as the morning progressed, the usual Sunday crowd of locals and tourists mixing together in a comfortable chaos. I fell into my routine—greeting customers with polite distance, answering questions about growing methods, making sales and accepting payment with the same efficiency I'd perfected over five years.
But I couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. Every time I looked up, someone seemed to be glancing my way. Conversations would pause when I passed by other stalls. People smiled at me with a warmth that felt new, different, weighted with assumptions I hadn't invited.
They thought I was being courted. They thought I'd somehow captured the attention of four Alphas, that I was special, chosen, worth all this interest. The thought made my stomach churn with anxiety. Because what happened when they realized I wasn't? When the pack moved on, found someone more suitable, someone less broken and guarded? When everyone's romantic assumptions crashed against the reality of my carefully maintained solitude?
I'd be the town joke. The omega who couldn't keep what everyone thought she had. The one who'd been passed over, found wanting. Just like my mother had been. Just like I'd always feared I would be.
"Stop it," I whispered to myself, gripping the edge of my table. "You're not her. This isn't that."
"Talking to yourself now?" a sweet voice asked. "How quaint."
I looked up sharply to find Trinity standing in front of my stall, her dark hair perfect, her makeup flawless, her expressionradiating false friendliness. She was dressed like she was going to brunch at some fancy restaurant, not browsing a farmers market—designer jeans, a silk blouse, heels that had no business on the grass and gravel.
My spine straightened instinctively, every defense mechanism snapping to attention. "Can I help you with something?"
"Oh, I'm sure you can." Trinity picked up a jar of blackberry jam, examining it like it might contain poison. "I've been hearing so much about you lately. Daphne, right? The hermit who lives out past the Henderson property?"
The casual cruelty in her tone made my teeth clench. "If you're not here to buy anything?—"
"I'm here to understand," she interrupted, setting down the jam with exaggerated care. "What exactly do you think you're doing?"
I blinked at her, genuinely confused. "Excuse me?"
"With Oliver's pack." Trinity leaned closer, her voice dropping to a hiss that was somehow more threatening than a shout. "What game are you playing? Because I know you're not actually being courted. They wouldn't lower themselves to that.”
Around us, I could feel the market's attention shifting our way. Conversations were tapering off, people pretending to browse while clearly listening. This was exactly what I'd been trying to avoid—becoming the center of attention, the subject of drama and speculation.
"There's no game," I said quietly, trying to keep this contained. "And you're right—there's no courting. It was a misunderstanding, nothing more."
But Trinity wasn't listening. She'd gotten what she wanted—an audience—and now she was performing for them.
"A misunderstanding?" Her voice rose, carrying across the market square. "Really? Because I've heard you've beenspending time with Garrett. Private visits to their property. Cozy consultations about trees?" She said the last word with mocking emphasis, making it sound sordid.
My face heated. "It was professional?—"
"Professional," Trinity laughed, the sound sharp and ugly. "Right. Because that's what you call it when you're trying to worm your way into a pack that doesn't want you. When you're using your omega wiles to seduce men who are clearly out of your league."
The accusation hung in the air like smoke, choking and poisonous. I felt every eye in the market on me, felt the weight of their judgment, their curiosity, their assumptions.
"I'm not trying to seduce anyone," I said, my voice shaking despite my efforts to stay calm. "I've been minding my own business, living my own life?—"
