I tensed slightly but nodded as I wearily answered. "I guess."
"What scares you most? About tomorrow, about all of this?" He turned his body so his gaze was on me directly. "And I want the real answer, not the one you think I want to hear."
I stared out at my garden, at the rows I'd weeded today, at the greenhouse where seedlings grew in carefully controlled conditions. Everything I'd built here was about control—controlling my environment, my interactions, my vulnerability. Then here Oliver was asking me to give up that control, at least for a moment.
"That I'll mess it up," I whispered finally after a long minute of silence to gather my thoughts and the best way to express this into words. I wasn’t always the best at conveying my needs and wants into a conversation.. "That I'll panic or push you away or say the wrong thing, and you'll all realize I'm too much work. Too damaged. That it's easier to find someone else who doesn't come with all my… baggage."
Oliver was quiet for so long I thought maybe I'd said too much, revealed too much of the fear that kept me up at night. Though when he spoke, his voice was steady and sure.
"Daphne, I'm going to tell you something, and I need you to really hear it." He set down his tea and turned his chair to face me fully. "Every single person has baggage. Every single person has damage. The difference is whether you let that damage define you or whether you learn to work with it."
He leaned forward, his blue eyes intense. "You're not too much work. You're the right amount of work for people who actually care about you. And we do care, Daphne. All four of us. We're not looking for easy. We're looking for real. And you're about as real as it gets.."
Tears burned behind my eyes, but I blinked them back furiously. "You barely know me."
"We know enough," Oliver told me simply, his voice was soft as he spoke to me. "We know you're strong, independent, and talented. We know you've survived things that would have broken other people. We know you're scared but brave enough to try anyway. That's enough for us to want to know more. To want to earn your trust."
"I don't know how to do this," I admitted, my voice cracking. "How to let people in without losing myself in the process."
"Then we learn together." Oliver reached out slowly, giving me time to pull away, and when I didn't, he took my hand. His grip was warm as he gave my hand a small squeeze. "That's what pack is supposed to be, Daphne. People figuring it out together, supporting each other through the hard parts."
I looked down at our joined hands, at the way his larger palm completely engulfed mine. It should have felt overwhelming, suffocating. Instead, it just felt… safe.
"What if I can't be what you need?" The question escaped before I could stop it, raw and vulnerable.
"What if you already are?" Oliver countered gently, his eyes softening when he looked at me. "What if everything you think are flaws are actually exactly what we need? What if yourcaution keeps us grounded? What if your independence reminds us that love isn't about possession? What if your walls teach us patience?"
I pulled my hand back, not because his touch was unwelcome, but because I needed to breathe, to think, to process the weight of his words without being completely overwhelmed by his presence.
"You make it sound so simple," I said, wrapping my arms around myself. I had kept to myself so long to protect myself to let people in can’t be that simple.
"It's not simple at all," Oliver admitted, leaning back in his chair. "It's probably going to be one of the most complicated things any of us have ever done. But complicated doesn't mean impossible. It definitely doesn't mean it’s not worth it."
We sat in silence again, but it was different now—charged with possibility instead of just awkward uncertainty. Oliver's presence was solid and reassuring in a way I wasn't used to, less gentle than Garrett's patient warmth but no less comforting.
"The others are driving me crazy, you know," Oliver told me after a while, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Garrett keeps asking if it's too early to bring you flowers. Levi's planning an entire feast for tomorrow instead of just dinner. And Micah's been running mental scenarios about every possible way tomorrow could go."
Despite everything, I felt a laugh bubble up. "That sounds exhausting for you."
"It's what I signed up for when I became head Alpha of this particular pack." His smile was fond, affectionate. "They're good men, Daphne. Maybe a little intense, definitely overthink everything, but their hearts are in the right place."
"And your heart?" I asked before I could stop myself. "Where's it at in all this?"
Oliver turned to look at me, his expression serious but open. "In the same place as theirs. Hoping you'll give us a chance. Hoping tomorrow goes well. Hoping that maybe, eventually, you'll see yourself the way we see you—as someone worth choosing, worth staying for, worth, everything."
The intensity of his words, the certainty in his voice, made my breath catch. This was the head Alpha, the one the others deferred to, the one whose word was final in their pack. And he was sitting on my porch, drinking my tea, telling me I was worth everything.
"I'm going to disappoint you," I whispered, glancing down as I curled my arms around myself. "All of you. Eventually."
"Probably," Oliver agreed easily, which was not the response I'd expected, making my eyes fly back to him. "And we'll probably disappoint you too. That's what people do. They mess up, they fall short, it’s human. The question isn't whether we'll disappoint each other, it's whether we'll work through it when we do."
He stood then, stretching slightly, and I realized the sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold. He'd been here for a while, just sitting with me, not demanding anything, just… being present.
"I should go," he hummed out, but he didn't sound like he particularly wanted to. "Let you have your evening. But Daphne? Thank you."
I stood too, following him toward his truck. "For what?"
"For letting me be here. For not pushing me away." He paused at the driver's door, looking back at me. "I know it wasn't easy. So thank you for trying."
