I pulled my hand back gently, needing the space to breathe, to think. "I don't know if I can. One I haven’t even met all of your pack yet…two I don’t even know if I want to be courted or a romance at that."
"Then take your time figuring it out," Levi said simply. "We're not going anywhere."
We walked back to my stall together, and I felt the market's attention on us immediately. People were definitely watching now, definitely talking. The gossip mill was going to be working overtime after today. But as I looked around at the familiar faces—Mrs. Morrison giving me an encouraging nod, Eleanor smiling warmly, even a few other vendors offering supportive waves—I realized Eleanor was right. They weren't judging me harshly. They were... supportive? Hopeful, even?
It was disorienting, this communal approval of something I hadn't agreed to yet. But it was also, in a strange way, oddly comforting. Like maybe I didn't have to face this decision entirely alone. Levi stayed nearby as I resumed my position behind my stall, not hovering but clearly present. A few customers approached, and I noticed they were gentlerthan usual, kinder in their questions and comments. Word had definitely spread about Trinity's scene.
"Don't let her get to you," Mrs. Peterson said as she bought her weekly lavender bundles. "That girl's been making trouble since she arrived. You just keep doing what you're doing, dear."
"Thank you," I managed, genuinely touched by the support. The morning continued like that—customers offering subtle encouragement, vendors checking in with concerned glances, and through it all, Levi's steady presence a few stalls away, browsing other vendors but clearly keeping an eye on me. It should have felt suffocating, all this attention. Instead, it felt... safe. Protected.
Like maybe I didn't have to face everything alone anymore. The thought was both terrifying and strangely appealing. As the market began to wind down in the early afternoon, as I started packing up my remaining goods, Eleanor appeared at my stall again.
"You did well today," she said quietly. "Stood your ground, didn't let Trinity break you. I'm proud of you."
The unexpected praise made my throat tight. "I didn't do anything special."
"You defended yourself. You didn't run away or hide. That's plenty special." Eleanor glanced toward where Levi was helping another vendor load boxes into their truck. "He seems nice. They all do, from what I've heard."
"Eleanor—"
"I'm not pushing," she said gently. "Just observing. And Daphne? Whatever you decide about this courting business—whether you say yes or no—make sure it's what you actually want. Not what you think you should want, or what scares you less. What you want."
She left before I could respond, leaving me with yet another uncomfortable truth to sit with.
What did I want? I wanted safety. I wanted my carefully controlled life back. I wanted walls that held firm and routines that never changed and a future I could predict with absolute certainty. But I also wanted... more. The conversations with Garrett that made me feel seen. Levi's easy humor that made me laugh despite myself. The possibility of connection, of belonging, of being chosen not despite my walls but because someone thought I was worth the effort of scaling them.
I wanted both things. And they seemed entirely incompatible.
As I loaded the last crate into my truck, Levi appeared at my elbow. "Need any help?"
"I've got it," I said automatically, then paused. Reconsidered. "Actually... if you could grab that one?" I pointed to a particularly heavy box of preserves.
He grinned like I'd given him a gift, hefting the box easily into the truck bed. "See? Accepting help isn't so bad."
"Don't get used to it," I muttered, but there was no real heat in it.
"Wouldn't dream of it." He closed the tailgate, then turned to face me fully. "Daphne, about what Trinity said?—"
"She's right though, isn't she?" I interrupted, needing to voice the fear before it consumed me. "I am damaged. I do have too many walls. I can barely function in normal social situations. Why would you want—" I gestured vaguely between us. "Any of this?"
Levi was quiet for a moment, considering his words carefully. "Can I tell you something? About my past?"
I nodded, surprised by the shift.
"I had a brother. Older, smarter, perfect in every way according to our parents. And me? I was the screwup. The one who couldn't get anything right." His voice was matter-of-fact, but I could hear old pain underneath. "I watched him nearlydestroy himself trying to be what everyone expected. Addiction, depression, the whole spiral. And you know what saved him…at least for awhile?"
I shook my head.
"Finding people who wanted him for who he actually was, not who he was supposed to be. People who saw his damage and didn't run. Who said 'okay, you're broken here, let's work with that instead of pretending you're not.'" Levi met my eyes steadily. "That's what pack is supposed to be, Daphne. Not people who want you perfect. People who want you, the real you."
The words settled over me like a blanket, warm and heavy and impossible to ignore.
"I'm not good at that," I whispered.
"You're better at it than you think." He smiled gently. "You were pretty real on Friday with Garrett. And just now, when you asked for help instead of insisting you could do everything alone. That's progress."
"That's terrifying," I corrected, fidgeting and not trying to give into my urge and run away.
