I stood there in my dirt-stained clothes, my hands still grimy from the garden, feeling suddenly self-conscious. "I'm fine. Really. You didn't need to come all the way out here."
Oliver stopped a few feet away, his gaze sweeping over me in a way that felt assessing rather than invasive. "You saidsomething happened this morning. That you needed to talk to us about it tomorrow." He paused, his expression softening slightly. "I know you said you'd explain everything at dinner, but I couldn't stop thinking about it. Couldn't shake the feeling that maybe you needed someone now, not tomorrow."
The consideration in his words, the fact that he'd driven all the way out here just because he sensed I might need support, made my throat tight with emotion I wasn't ready to name.
"It's not an emergency," I said, wrapping my arms around myself despite the warm afternoon air. "Just… something I need to tell you all. Together."
"Can I stay anyway?" Oliver inquired softly his blue eyes watching my every movement. There was something almost vulnerable in the question, like he genuinely wasn't sure if his presence would be welcome. "Even if we don't talk about whatever happened, I'd like to just… be here. If you're okay with that."
I should have said no. Should have maintained my boundaries, kept him at a distance until I was ready to face the pack all at once. Standing there in my garden with the afternoon sun slanting through the trees and Oliver looking at me with those concerned eyes, I found I didn't want to say no.
"You can stay," I heard myself say, my voice quieter than I intended. "But I'm kind of a mess right now."
"You look like someone who's been working hard in their garden," Oliver observed, a hint of a smile touching his lips. "That's not a mess. That's just living."
The simple acceptance in his tone, the way he didn't flinch at my dirt-stained appearance or demand I explain myself, made something in my chest loosen. I gestured toward the porch. "I was going to make some iced tea. Do you want some?"
"That sounds perfect." He gave me a soft smile, and it made me pause for a moment before walking into the house together.I was hyperaware of his presence beside me—the way his scent drifted on the breeze, something clean and woodsy with an undertone of pine that made my Omega instincts hum with interest. It was different from Garrett's cedar warmth or Micah's sharp green scent, but equally compelling in its own way.
Inside the kitchen, I washed my hands at the sink while Oliver leaned against the counter, giving me space but not leaving. His eyes took in my small kitchen—the herbs drying by the window, the jars of preserves lined up on the shelf, the simple, practical setup that had been my world for five years.
"You've made a real home here," he said quietly, and I could tell by his tone, there was no teasing or looking down on me in his voice, "It's impressive, what you've built."
"It's just a cabin," I deflected, drying my hands on a dish towel. "Nothing special."
"It's yours. That makes it special." Oliver moved to the window, looking out at my garden. "Garrett told me about helping with the orchard. Said you knew more about trees and growing things than anyone he'd ever met."
I busied myself pulling out the pitcher and tea bags, not wanting to meet his eyes. "I just know what my adoptive parents taught me. Trial and error over five years."
"That's more than knowledge," Oliver said, turning back to face me. It was then I could feel how much taller he was than me when I had to crane my neck up to look him in the eyes. "That's dedication. Commitment to something you care about."
His words hung in the air as I let myself go back to filling the kettle with water and set it to heat. The kitchen felt smaller with him in it, but not in a bad way. More like his presence filled up all the empty spaces I'd gotten used to.
"You said the others were worried about me," I said after a moment, needing to fill the silence with something. "Garrett being the worst and annoying the others?"
Oliver's laugh was low and genuine. "Garrett has a tendency to… fixate when he cares about something. Or someone. The rest of us have learned to recognize the signs." His expression grew more serious. "But we're all concerned, Daphne. Micah came back yesterday saying you'd agreed to try, but also that you were terrified. Levi's been baking nonstop, which is what he does when he's anxious. And I…" He paused, seeming to choose his words carefully. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about what happened at the market. About Trinity, and how she treated you."
My hands stilled on the pitcher. "That's part of what I need to talk to you all about."
Oliver straightened immediately, his Alpha instincts clearly on alert. "Did she do something else?"
"Tomorrow," I said firmly, even though my voice shook slightly. "I'll tell all of you together. I don't want to have to explain it multiple times."
He studied me for a long moment, and I could see the war in his expression—the desire to push for information now, to protect and fix whatever was wrong, versus the respect for my boundaries. Finally, he nodded. "Okay, tomorrow. But Daphne, if you're in any danger?—"
"I'm not," I interrupted quickly. "Not immediate danger, anyway. It's just… complicated."
"Everything about this situation is complicated," Oliver sighed, but there was something almost affectionate in his tone. "Four Alphas trying to court an Omega who'd rather be left alone. It doesn't get much more complicated than that."
"I didn't say I'd rather be left alone," I protested, then stopped, realizing what I'd just admitted. "I mean?—"
"You said exactly what you meant." Oliver's smile was gentle but knowing. "You're starting to realize that maybe isolation wasn't what you actually wanted. Just what felt safest."
The tea kettle whistled, saving me from having to respond. I poured the hot water over the tea bags, then added ice, my movements automatic and familiar. Oliver accepted the glass I offered him with a nod of thanks, and we moved back outside to the porch where the air was cooler and less confining.
We sat in the rocking chairs sipping our tea in companionable silence. The afternoon was starting to shift toward evening, the light taking on that golden quality that made everything look softer, more forgiving.
"Can I ask you something?" Oliver asked after a while, his voice quiet but curious. He shifted his gaze from looking out at the scenery to me.
