"No, you're not." His lips quirked. "You're prickly and defensive and obviously uncomfortable with this entire conversation. But you haven't told me to leave yet. You accepted the bread. You're answering my questions instead of shutting down completely. That suggests something."
"Suggests what?" I asked, even though I wasn't sure I wanted to know.
"That you're interested. Scared, but interested." He moved to the porch steps, sitting down on the top one and gesturing to the space beside him. An invitation, not a demand. "Come here. Sit. Let's talk like normal people instead of two guarded animals circling each other."
I hesitated, every instinct screaming at me to maintain distance, to keep the barrier of space between us. But somethingabout his directness, his refusal to pretend this wasn't complicated, made me want to try. To push past the fear, just for a moment.
Slowly.
Carefully.
I moved to the steps and sat—not right next to him, but close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from his body, could smell that sharp green scent that made my Omega instincts purr with interest despite my wariness.
"There," Micah said, satisfaction in his voice. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"
"It was terrifying," I admitted, my hands clutching the bread like a lifeline.
"Good. Terrifying means you're pushing past your comfort zone. That's where growth happens." He stretched out his legs, looking perfectly at ease despite the tension thrumming through me. "So tell me about your garden. Garrett says it's impressive."
The change of subject was so abrupt it took me a moment to adjust. "My garden?"
"Yeah. You clearly put a lot of work into it. What made you choose that particular layout? Why those specific plants?" He glanced at me, and there was genuine curiosity in his expression. "I like understanding how people think. Your garden probably says a lot about that."
And just like that, we were talking. Not about courtship or packs or the complicated dance we were all doing around each other, but about companion planting and soil composition and the relative merits of different tomato varieties. Micah asked questions that suggested he was actually listening, actually interested in the answers rather than just making conversation.
"The layout is based on succession planting," I explained, gesturing toward the rows visible from the porch. "Things that mature at different rates, so I have continuous harvest ratherthan everything coming ripe at once. The herbs are interspersed because certain combinations repel pests naturally—basil and tomatoes, marigolds and almost everything."
"Efficient," Micah observed. "You've thought through every detail."
"I had to. When you're doing everything yourself, you can't afford to waste space or time or resources." I broke off another piece of bread, the motion automatic now. "Every choice has consequences."
"Same principle applies to pack dynamics," he said, and I realized he'd led me exactly where he'd intended. "Every choice, every interaction, affects the whole system. That's why I'm careful about who we bring in. It's not just about whether we like someone—it's about whether they'll fit with the existing structure, whether the addition will strengthen the whole or destabilize it."
"And?" I asked, my throat tight.
Micah turned to look at me fully, those green eyes searching my face. "I'm starting to think maybe you could, fit I mean. If you wanted to."
"Why?" The question burst out before I could stop it. "Why would you want someone like me? Someone with so many walls, so much damage, so little experience with pack dynamics? Why not find someone easier, someone who comes without all the complications?"
"Because easy isn't always better," Micah said simply. "Because complications make things interesting. Because..." He paused, seeming to choose his words carefully. "Because Garrett came back from meeting you with this look in his eyes I've never seen before. Because Levi spent an entire evening talking about your baking advice like you'd shared the secrets of the universe. Because Oliver said you stood up to Trinity without flinching, defended a stranger because it was the right thing to do."
He shifted slightly closer, and I could feel the heat of him even through the morning chill. "Because everything I'm learning about you suggests you're someone who's survived hell and built something beautiful anyway. Someone who knows her worth even when she doubts it. Someone who'd rather be alone than settle for less than she deserves."
His words washed over me like water, soaking into cracks I didn't know existed. My chest felt tight, my eyes burning with tears I refused to let fall.
"That's not who I am," I whispered. "That's who you want me to be."
"No," Micah said firmly. "That's who you already are. You just can't see it through all the armor you're wearing."
We sat in silence for a moment, the morning continuing to brighten around us. Birds called from the trees, and somewhere in the distance, I could hear the rush of the creek that marked the edge of my property. Normal sounds, familiar sounds, grounding me in the reality of this moment—sitting on my porch with a strange Alpha who somehow saw things in me I couldn't see in myself.
"I'm not good at this," I said finally. "At talking about feelings or being vulnerable or any of the things people need in relationships."
"None of us are good at it naturally," Micah replied. "We learn by doing. By trying and failing and trying again." He turned to face me directly, eyes boring into my own. "Can I tell you what I think would happen if you said yes to this courtship?"
I stayed quiet, not trusting my voice to give an answer.
"I think it would be hard. Really hard. You'd panic sometimes, probably push us away when things got too intense. We'd mess up, say the wrong things, move too fast or too slow. There'd be misunderstandings and hurt feelings and momentswhen you'd be absolutely certain this was a mistake." He told me, eyes watching me as he spoke every word carefully.
