I snorted, typing back:That's the one. And we're all lovesick puppies at this point.
His response came quickly:Good. About time you boys found something beyond work and renovations. Your mother always said a home isn't complete without someone to share it with.
The mention of Mom made my chest ache the way it always did—sharp and sweet and painful all at once. She'd been gone for almost ten years now, lost to cancer when I was just sixteen, but her wisdom still echoed in the choices I made.
Me: Wish mom was here to meet her.
Dad: She'd have loved her already. Anyone brave enough to take on four Alphas has your mother's kind of spirit. Bring her by the mill sometime. I want tomeet the girl who's got my boy cleaning house at eight at night..
I smiled, pocketing my phone. Dad had a way of cutting through complications to find the heart of things. And he was right—we were cleaning house, at eight pm on a weeknight because we wanted to make a good impression. Because we wanted Daphne to feel welcome, comfortable, safe.
Because we were already half in love with her, even though she'd barely let us past her walls. I heard footsteps on the stairs and turned to find Garrett standing in the doorway, taking in the empty room with an expression I couldn't quite read.
"You thinking about what I'm thinking about?" he asked quietly, his eyes scanning over the room.
"That this could be her room?" I moved away from the window, giving him space to enter. "Yeah, but that's probably getting ahead of ourselves."
"Is it?" Garrett walked to the other window, the one overlooking the forest. "Oliver, we've all felt it. From the first moment with her. This sense of... rightness. Like we've been waiting for her without knowing what we were waiting for."
I couldn't argue with that. I'd felt it too, sitting on her porch this afternoon, holding her hand and feeling like something fundamental had shifted into place. Not love, not yet—you couldn't love someone you barely knew. The potential for it, the recognition that this person could become essential.
"She's not ready for us to be talking about her having a room here," I told him gently, more for my sake than his. "She's barely ready to have dinner with us."
"I know." Garrett's reflection in the window showed his frustration. "I just... I want to give her everything. Space and time and patience, but also safety, belonging, and the knowledge that she doesn't have to be alone anymore. I just don't know how to balance those things."
I moved to stand beside him, our shoulders nearly touching. Pack. Brothers in all but blood. "We balance them by following her lead. By offering without demanding. By showing up consistently and letting her decide what she's ready to accept."
"That's very wise," Garrett sighed with a slight smile. "Levi’s right—you do get philosophical."
"Shut up and help me move furniture," I laughed, pushing him toward the door. "If we're going to make this place presentable, we need to clear out the boxes from the hall closet."
We worked in comfortable silence for a while, moving through the upstairs with practiced efficiency. Garrett handled the heavy lifting while I organized and directed, falling into the dynamic we'd established over three years of friendship and pack life.
"Can I ask you something?" Garrett asked quietly as we carried a box of old curtains down to the donation pile. "As head Alpha?"
"You can ask me anything, anytime," I reminded him. He never had to ask for advice or an opinion I’d always give it to him. "You don't need to preface it with my title."
"This feels like a title question." He set down his end of the box, then straightened to look at me directly. "If this doesn't work—if Daphne decides we're too much, or if the logistics get too complicated, or if Trinity escalates to the point where Daphne feels unsafe—will you pull the plug? For the good of the pack?"
The question hit harder than I'd expected. Because it was the question I'd been asking myself since Micah's assessment two days ago. The one that kept me up at night, running scenarios and calculating risks.
"Honestly?" I met his gaze steadily. "I don't know. My job is to protect this pack, to make sure our choices don't damage what we've built. But my job is also to support what makes us whole.And I think... I think Daphne could make us whole in a way we've never been before."
"That's not really an answer," Garrett pointed out, though I could see the apprehension on his face.
"It's the only answer I have right now." I leaned against the wall, suddenly tired. "If Daphne decides this isn't for her, we respect that and move on. If the situation becomes genuinely dangerous—not just uncomfortable or complicated, but actually dangerous—then yes, I'd have to intervene. But short of those extremes? We see this through. Together."
Garrett nodded slowly, seeming to accept this. "Fair enough. And for the record? I think she could make us whole too. I've thought that since I saw her in that garden, completely content in her solitude but also... lonely. Like she'd forgotten what it felt like to not be lonely."
"We'll remind her," I told him with more confidence than I felt. "If she'll let us."
We finished the upstairs and headed back down to find Micah and Levi had transformed the main floor. The living room was immaculate, tools organized and put away, the drywall dust cleaned up to reveal the warm oak floors. The deck boards were gone from the back wall, and through the kitchen window, I could see Garrett's truck parked near the barn foundation, presumably after delivering them there.
The kitchen gleamed, Levi's domain restored to the organized efficiency he preferred. Every surface was clean, the dishes were done, and the focaccia sat cooling on a rack, covered with a clean towel.
"Not bad for two hours of work," Micah said, surveying the space with satisfaction. He'd changed into clean clothes, and I noticed he'd showered—his hair was still damp, and he smelled like his usual soap, clean and sharp.
"The bathroom has a door handle now too," Levi added, gesturing toward the small half-bath off the kitchen. "Found the hardware in the workshop. Took five minutes to install—don't know why we've been putting it off for weeks."
