"Not today…but maybe give her today to think and stop by tomorrow or even later today.” I said quickly. "Give her at least some time to get comfortable. She just had an intense conversation with me, she needs time to process before we pile more on."
Garrett reluctantly agreed, though he looked like it physically pained him. "This is torture. You know that, right? Having to wait and be patient when what I want is to just... I don't know. Fix everything for her."
"You can't fix her," I said gently, trying to make sure he understood. He couldn’t think of her like that, like she was something that needed to be pieced back together. "She's not broken. She's just scarred. There's a difference."
"Semantics," Garrett muttered, though he had an understanding look in his eyes as he leaned back into his chair, his arms crossed over his chest in an almost pouting way.
"Important semantics," Oliver corrected, rolling his eyes at Garreett. He definitely was the most spoiled and youngest of the pack. "Micah's right. Daphne doesn't need fixing. She needs choosing. Consistently, reliably, without conditions. That's what we can offer her."
We sat in comfortable silence for a moment, each of us lost in our own thoughts. The kitchen filled the homey mixture of breakfast, coffee, and pack—that indefinable scent that was all four of us mixed together, familiar and grounding.
"I gave her the bread," I said after a while, glancing at Levi whose eyes snapped over to me. "She tried it. Said to tell Levi the feeding schedule worked."
Levi's face lit up, a grin stretching across his face in happiness, "Really? She liked it?"
"She ate half of it during our conversation," I confirmed, a small laugh leaving me as I saw the pure happiness on Levi’s face at my words. "Barely noticed she was doing it. Which means it was either really good, or she was comfortable enough to eat without being self-conscious about it."
"Probably both," Levi said smugly, though I could see the small blush on his cheeks, "I'm getting good at this sourdough thing."
"You're getting insufferable about this sourdough thing," I corrected, but I was smiling. "She said to tell you yourself, by the way. Though she also said 'or don't, up to you' because she's incapable of accepting a compliment without deflecting."
"I'll text her about it when we get her number.," Levi decided, determination setting on his face, "Just something about the bread. Keep it casual. I promise."
Oliver pushed off from the counter, his expression thoughtful. "We should talk about the property. If this goes well, if she eventually wants to be here more often, we need tomake sure there's space for her. A room she can make her own, somewhere she feels safe."
"The room at the end of the hall," Garrett suggested immediately, as he stood up. "It's got the best light, overlooking the garden area. We could clear it out, let her decorate however she wants."
"We're not redecorating before she's even agreed to a courtship," I said firmly, shaking my head at the two romantics of our pack. They were the ones who would want to sweep someone off their feet, or go too fast in a relationship. "But we should clean it, make it available. Show her we're thinking ahead without being presumptuous."
"There's a fine line between planning and presuming," Levi spoke up, as he too was holding back wanting to do what Garrett and Oliver suggested, but he knew better to do so too early.
"And we're going to walk it very carefully," Oliver sighed, knowing he was thinking too farahead…but I could also see he wanted this to work…we all did.
I stood, carrying my empty plate and mug to the sink. "I'm going to go for a run. Clear my head. You all should probably find something to do with your nervous energy that doesn't involve obsessing over Wednesday."
"Says the man who just spent an hour with her and can't stop analyzing every detail," Garrett shot back, though I could see the smile on his face.
"That's different. That's strategic analysis." I shot back, a grin on my own face as I glanced over my pack.
"That's obsessing," Levi corrected with a grin as he gathered his own plate up.
I flipped him off, which just made him laugh. "Fine. We're all obsessing. But let's at least try to be productive about it." As I headed upstairs to change into running clothes, I could hear them talking in the kitchen—making plans, discussing details,building a future that was anything but guaranteed. It should have worried me, this level of investment before we really knew if it would work. But instead, it felt right.
We were a pack that chose each other. Now we were choosing her. The question was whether she'd be brave enough to choose us back.
I laced up my running shoes, my mind still circling back to that moment on her porch when she'd said she wanted to try. The vulnerability in her voice, the fear and hope mixed together. She was taking a leap, and we damn well better be there to catch her. I stepped outside, the fog a distant memory thanks to the morning sun, leaving everything sharp and clear. The property was still a work in progress—lumber stacked near the barn, tools scattered around the half-renovated porch—but it was becoming something. Becoming home.
And maybe, if we did this right, it would become Daphne's home too.
One step at a time, I'd told her. That was all anyone was asking. For a woman who'd spent five years building walls, every step toward us was an act of courage. The least we could do was make sure those steps led somewhere safe.
I started running, my feet hitting the dirt path in a steady rhythm that matched my heartbeat. The property stretched out around me—trees and sky and the promise of something new.
Wednesday couldn't come fast enough.
Chapter Seventeen
Daphne
