"Eventually." She nodded. "Lucas, my first mate—he was patient. So patient it almost drove me crazy. He just keptshowing up, day after day, ordering his stupid croissant, making small talk, never pushing for more than I could give. And slowly, so slowly I barely noticed it happening, my walls started coming down."
The story resonated with something deep in my chest. "How did you know? That he was different? That it was safe to let him in?"
"I didn't." Viola's laugh was rueful. "That's the thing, Daphne. There's no guarantee. No way to know for certain that someone won't hurt you. But at some point, you have to decide if living in fear is worth the safety it provides. And for me, it wasn't. The loneliness was killing me just as surely as heartbreak ever could."
I thought about my cabin, my garden, my five years of careful solitude. I thought about the way the silence had felt like safety and was starting to feel like a cage. I thought about Levi's hand in mine, the warmth of the pack's kitchen, the terrifying and exhilarating possibility of belonging.
"The loneliness was killing me too," I admitted. "I just didn't realize it until recently."
"Better late than never." Viola raised her lemonade glass again. "To realizing things. To choosing hope over fear. To absolutely terrifying leaps of faith."
"To absolutely terrifying leaps of faith," I echoed, and drank. The conversation drifted after that, moving to lighter topics—town gossip, Viola's plans to help her husband make up new drinks at the bar, the ongoing drama between two of the vendors at the farmers market who had apparently been feuding for years over a disputed recipe. I found myself laughing more than I had in months, my cheeks aching from smiling, my chest light with something that felt suspiciously like joy.
"Oh!" Viola sat up suddenly, her expression shifting to concern. "I almost forgot. Trinity. Has she done anything else since the plant?"
The name sent a chill through me, but it was muted now, less sharp than it had been. "Not that I know of. Oliver said they're documenting everything, getting the family's law enforcement contacts involved. Building a case."
"Good." Viola's jaw tightened. "That woman is unhinged. The way she looked at you that day in town..." She shook her head. "I've seen jealousy before, but that was something else. Something obsessive."
"Levi said something similar. That she doesn't see rejection as rejection—she sees it as a mistake that needs to be corrected." I shivered despite the warm afternoon. "Like she's entitled to them, and I'm just an obstacle."
"Well, she's wrong." Viola's voice was fierce. "And if she tries anything else, she'll have to go through a lot of people to get to you. The pack, obviously. But also me. And Eleanor….and half the town, probably. You've got more people in your corner than you realize, Daphne."
The words settled into me like warmth, like sunlight reaching frozen ground. More people in my corner than I realized. It was a strange thought, after so many years of believing I had no one.
"Thank you," I said softly. "For being one of those people."
"Please." Viola waved her hand dismissively, but her eyes were bright with emotion. "I've been trying to be your friend for years. You're just finally letting me."
"I know. I'm sorry it took so long." I looked down at my hands as I said this.
"Don't be sorry. Just keep going." She stood, stretching with a satisfied groan. "Speaking of which, I should head out. Lucas will be wondering where I disappeared to, and I promised him and my other mates I'd be home in time for dinner."
I walked her to her car, the late afternoon sun painting everything in shades of gold and amber. The yellow Beetle looked almost orange in this light, cheerful and bright against the green of my property.
"Thank you," I said again as she opened the driver's door. "For lunch. For the chocolate. For... all of it."
"Anytime." She pulled me into a hug—quick but fierce, the way she did everything. "Call me tomorrow, okay? Or text. Let me know how things are going. And if you need anything—anything at all—I'm here."
"I will." I laughed softly with a grin on my face.
She climbed into the car, and paused with her hand on the key. "Daphne?"
"Yeah?" I asked, curious what else she could have to say.
"You're going to be okay." She said it with absolute certainty, like she was stating a fact rather than offering hope. "Better than okay. I can feel it."
I wanted to believe her. Standing there in the golden light, my stomach full of good food and my heart full of something I was afraid to name, I almost did, "Thanks, Viola."
"Thank me when I'm right." She grinned, started the engine, and pulled away with a wave.
I watched until the yellow Beetle disappeared around the bend, then turned back to my cabin. The garden stretched before me, green and growing, and the creek sparkled in the distance, and somewhere in the forest, birds were singing their evening songs. I had friends now. Real friends, not just acquaintances I kept at arm's length. I had a pack—or the beginning of one—four men who wanted to know me, all of me, and weren't scared off by what they'd found. I had hope, fragile, but growing, like a seedling pushing through dark soil toward the light.
It wasn't the life I'd planned. It wasn't the safety I'd built…. standing there in the fading light, I was starting to think it might be something better.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Daphne
