"That's not exactly a selling point," I managed, a weak attempt at humor.
"I'm not done." His lips quirked. "But I also think you'd find people who show up for you consistently. Who’d respect your boundaries even when they don't fully understand them. Who’d see your prickly defensiveness for what it is—self-protection from someone who's been hurt too many times—and work with it instead of against it."
He reached out slowly, giving me time to pull away, and brushed a strand of hair behind my ear—the same gesture Garrett had made, but different somehow. Less gentle, more grounding. "I think you'd find a pack that chooses you on purpose. Not because you're easy, but because you're worth the effort. And maybe, eventually, you'd start to believe that."
My breath caught in my throat. The vulnerability of the moment, the weight of possibility hanging between us, was almost more than I could bear. I wanted to retreat, to rebuild my walls, to protect myself from the danger of hope. But I also wanted to lean into it. To take the risk. To see if maybe, just maybe, these Alphas were different from everyone else who'd failed to choose me when it mattered.
"I don't know if I can do this," I whispered.
"I know," Micah said simply. "But the question isn't whether you can. It's whether you want to try."
Did I? Want to try? The question circled through my mind, bumping up against fears and hopes in equal measure. I thought about Garrett's patient warmth in the orchard, Levi's easy humor at the market, Oliver's fierce defense when Trinity had attacked. I thought about the way they'd all offered me choice, agency, the power to decide what happened next.
I thought about the alternative—going back to my safe, isolated life. Keeping everyone at arm's length. Never risking connection because connection meant vulnerability, and vulnerability meant potential hurt. I realized something that made my chest ache with recognition: I was already hurting. Loneliness was its own kind of pain, one I'd gotten so used to I'd stopped noticing it. Maybe the question wasn't whether getting close to the pack would hurt…maybe it was whether that potential hurt was worth the potential joy.
"I don't trust easily," I said finally, my voice steadier than I felt. "I'll probably push you away when I get scared. I'll need space and time and patience that I'm not sure anyone has."
"Noted," Micah said, his green eyes locked on mine.
"But..." I took a shaky breath. "But I think I want to try. I think I want to see if this could work. If maybe you're right, and I could fit into your pack. Without losing myself in the process."
The smile that spread across Micah's face was different from Garrett's warm pleasure or Levi's bright grin. It was smaller, more contained, but no less genuine. Like I'd passed some test I hadn't known I was taking.
"Good," he said simply. "That's a start."
"Just a start?" I asked, finding an unexpected hint of humor in the moment.
"Trust has to be built, Daphne. Not assumed." He stood, extending a hand to help me up. "We'll take this slow, let you get to know all of us properly. No pressure, no expectations beyond basic honesty and giving this a genuine chance."
I took his hand, letting him pull me to my feet. His grip was firm, grounding, and he didn't let go immediately. Instead, he gave my hand a gentle squeeze, his thumb brushing over my knuckles.
"One step at a time," he said quietly. "That's all anyone's asking."
I nodded, not quite trusting my voice. My emotions were too close to the surface, too raw and exposed. But standing there on my porch with Micah's hand warm around mine, I felt something shift inside me—some wall lowering just a fraction, letting in a little more light.
"I should probably let you get to your day," Micah said, finally releasing my hand. "But the pack usually has dinner together on Wednesday nights. Would you want to join us? Nothing formal, just a chance to be around all of us at once, see how we interact."
The invitation made my stomach knot with anxiety. Being around all four Alphas at once, in their space, felt enormous. Overwhelming. But I'd just told him I wanted to try, and trying meant pushing past the fear.
"What time?" I asked, before I could talk myself out of it.
"Six. We'll keep it casual—probably something on the grill, nothing fancy." He started down the steps, then paused. "And Daphne? If you get there and it's too much, you can leave. No judgment, no hard feelings. We'll try again another time."
The escape route he was offering, the permission to bail if I needed to, made it easier to breathe. "Okay," I managed. "Wednesday at six."
Micah's smile was approving. "I'll let the others know. And Daphne? Thank you. For being honest with me. For taking the chance."
He climbed into his truck, and I watched as he backed down the driveway and disappeared into the now-thinning fog. Only after he was gone did I realize I was still holding the bread, clutching it like proof that the conversation had actually happened.
I went inside, my legs suddenly unsteady, and sank into a chair at my kitchen table. orning sun streaming throughthe windows,illuminating the familiar space that had been my sanctuary for five years.
What had I just done? Agreed to try? To let these Alphas into my life, into my carefully controlled world? The magnitude of the decision was starting to sink in, and with it came a wave of panic that made my hands shake. Underneath the panic was something else. Something that felt almost like... hope? The fragile, terrifying kind of hope that comes from taking a leap into the unknown.
I looked down at the bread in my hands—evidence of Levi's success, brought by Micah as both a gift and a test. The pack was already making space for me in small ways, already showing me that they saw me, that they were paying attention. The thought was terrifying and exhilarating as I took a deep breath, the lingering smell of Micah filling my nose.
One step at a time. That's all anyone was asking…perhaps that was something I could do.
Chapter Sixteen
