"I don't know," I admitted. "I've spent so long training myself to not wanting anything that I've forgotten how. Though...last night, at dinner..." I swallowed hard. "I felt something I haven't felt in years. Like maybe I could belong somewhere. Like maybe there were people who might actually stay."
"We will." His voice was certain, steady. "Stay, I mean. That's not a promise I make lightly, and I can't speak for the future in any absolute way. But I can tell you that Oliver, Garrett, Micah, and I—we're not going anywhere. We're not looking for a quick connection or a temporary fix. We're looking for something real. Someone real." His blue eyes met mine, and the honesty in them made my breath catch. "We're looking for you, Daphne."
The words settled into me, reaching places that had been cold and dark for so long I'd forgotten they existed. I should be scared. I should feel the familiar urge to run, to retreat, to rebuild every wall he'd just walked through. What I felt instead was, warmth, hope, and the tentative unfurling of something I'd buried so deep I'd thought it was dead.
"The courting," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "You mentioned it last night. Oliver's text mentioned it. What does that actually mean? For you, for your pack? What are you actually offering?"
Levi shifted, turning to face me more fully, his expression serious but soft. "It means we want the chance to get to know you. Really know you—not just the surface stuff, but the deep things. Your fears, your dreams, your history. Everything that makes you who you are." He paused, gathering his thoughts. "It means we'll be present. Available. That we'll show up when you need us and give you space when you need that instead. That we'll be patient while you figure out what you want, and we won't push you toward any timeline but your own."
"And if I decide you're not what I want?" I needed to know I had a way out if I wanted to. Not be caged or chained down.
"Then we respect that." The words came without hesitation, without shadow. "I meant what I said earlier—this isn't conditional. My showing up, bringing bread, being here. That doesn't stop if you decide the pack isn't for you. I'd rather have you as a friend than lose you entirely because you felt pressured into something you didn't want."
The sincerity in his voice undid something in me. A final lock, a last defense, the stubborn conviction that everyone ultimately wanted something from me that I couldn't give.
"I'm scared," I admitted. "I'm terrified, actually. Of wanting this. Of believing it could be real. Of letting myself hope and then having it all collapse." My voice wavered, but I forced myself to continue. "But I'm more scared of spending the rest of my life in that cabin alone, wondering what might have happened if I'd been brave enough to try."
"Daphne." My name in his mouth was tender, reverent. "You're already brave. You have been this whole time. Surviving what you survived, building what you've built, opening up even this much after everything you've been through—that isn’t cowardice. That's courage. The real kind, the kind that doesn't feel like courage while you're doing it."
I felt tears prick at my eyes—unexpected, unwelcome, impossible to stop. I hadn't cried in front of another person in years. Hadn't let anyone see me vulnerable, exposed, anything less than completely in control. But here, on my back porch with the garden spread before us and the morning sun warm on our skin, the walls I'd maintained for so long felt less like protection and more like prison.
"I want to try," I said, and the words came out thick with emotion. "The courting. I want to see where this goes. I want to let you—all of you—in. I'm probably going to be terrible at it.I'm going to push back and retreat and say the wrong things and build walls without meaning to. But I want to try."
The smile that broke across Levi's face was like watching the sun rise. Pure joy, uncomplicated and bright, transforming his features into something that made my heart ache with its beauty.
"Yeah?" His voice was slightly rough, like he was fighting his own emotion. "You mean that?"
"I mean it." And I did. God help me, I actually did. He reached out then—slowly, telegraphing the movement, giving me every chance to pull away—and took my hand. His palm was warm and callused, the hand of someone who worked with them, who created things. His fingers intertwined with mine like they belonged there, like this was something we'd done a thousand times before.
"Can I tell you something?" he asked softly.
"Yes." I didn’t even think about it before I answered..
"From the moment I saw you—really saw you, not just the surface, but the depth underneath—I knew you were someone worth waiting for. Worth being patient for. Worth every wall I'd have to scale and every barrier I'd have to navigate." His thumb traced small circles on the back of my hand, and I felt the touch everywhere. "The others feel it too. We've talked about it, about you, about this pull we all feel toward you. It's not something we can explain rationally. It's just... true. You fit with us, Daphne. Like a piece we didn't know was missing until you showed up."
The tears I'd been fighting slipped free, tracking down my cheeks in warm trails. I didn't try to hide them. Didn't pull away or rebuild or retreat into the familiar comfort of my defenses. I just sat there, my hand in his, and let myself feel everything I'd been running from for five years.
Hope. Connection. The terrifying, exhilarating possibility of belonging.
"Okay," I whispered. "So what happens now?"
"Now?" Levi's smile was gentle, patient, everything I needed it to be. "Now we take it one day at a time. I come by with bread, we have coffee, we talk. The others will want to spend time with you too—individually and together. We learn from each other. We figure out what works and what doesn't. We build something real, together, without rushing or forcing or pretending to be anything we're not."
"That sounds..." I searched for the word. "Nice. Really nice."
"It will be." He squeezed my hand gently. "There's no pressure, Daphne. No timeline. No expectations except honesty and communication. If something doesn't feel right, you tell us. If you need space, you ask for it. If you're overwhelmed, we slow down. This is about what you need, not about what we want from you."
"What if I don't know what I need?" I had asked this more than once, but…I wanted to hear it again.
"Then we figure it out together." He said it like it was simple, obvious, the most natural thing in the world. "That's what a pack is. Not four people telling you how to live your life, but five people navigating it together. Supporting each other. Showing up for each other." His eyes met mine, steady and sure. "You've been doing everything alone for so long. Let us help carry some of it. Not because you can't handle it yourself, but because you don't have to."
I let out a breath I hadn't realized I’d been holding, feeling something shift and settle inside me. Not everything—the fear was still there, the uncertainty, the ingrained belief that eventually everyone left….alongside it now was something else. Something stronger.
Trust. The beginning of trust.
"Okay," I said again, and this time the word felt like a promise. "Let's try." We sat there for a long time after that, hands intertwined, watching the garden grow. He told me aboutthe house they were renovating, about Oliver's vision, Garrett's expertise, and Micah's analytical approach to every decision. I told him about my plans for the fall harvest, about the new variety of heirloom tomatoes I was trying, about the jam recipes I'd been perfecting for years.
Somewhere along the way, I stopped feeling like I was performing normalcy and started actually feeling normal. Comfortable. At ease in a way I couldn't remember being with another person in longer than I could recall. When he finally stood to leave, the sun was well past its peak, and my cheeks ached from smiling more than I had in months. Maybe years.
