Oliver laughed, the sound warm and rich. "I'll take good overwhelming. Now, in terms of what those dates might look like—we each have ideas, but we also want to know what you'd enjoy. What do you like to do, Daphne? If you could spend a perfect day doing anything, what would it be?"
No one had ever asked me that before. Not seriously, not like the answer actually mattered. I took a sip of wine, buying time, and let myself really think about it.
"I like being outside," I said slowly. "Nature, quiet spaces. I like creating things—growing things, making things. I like good food and good conversation." I glanced at him, suddenly self-conscious. "That probably sounds boring."
"That sounds perfect." His voice was sincere. "Garrett wants to take you hiking—there's a trail near our property with an incredible view. Levi's already planning some elaborate cooking date where he teaches you to make something ridiculous. Micah mentioned the observatory, said you might like stargazing." He paused. I was hoping you might let me take you to dinner. Somewhere nice, but not pretentious. Good food, good wine, conversation." His grey eyes met mine. "Getting to know each other the old-fashioned way."
The thoughtfulness of it—the fact that they'd discussed this, planned for my preferences, considered what I might enjoy—made my chest ache with something dangerously close to tenderness.
"That all sounds wonderful," I said softly. "Really wonderful."
"Good." Oliver smiled, reaching for a strawberry. "Then we'll make it happen. At whatever pace feels right to you." We ate in comfortable silence for a while, the creek providing a gentle soundtrack of water over stones. I found myself relaxing more deeply than I had in years, the combination of good food, beautiful surroundings, and Oliver's steady presence working some kind of magic on my perpetually tense shoulders.
"Can I ask you something?" I said eventually.
"Anything." His answer with no hesitation made a smile flicker over my face.
"Why me?" The question had been building since the beginning, a persistent whisper I couldn't silence. "You could have anyone. Four successful, attractive alphas—you could haveyour pick of omegas. So why pursue someone who lives alone in the woods and can barely manage basic social interaction?"
Oliver was quiet for a moment, his expression thoughtful. When he spoke, his voice was careful, considered.
"Because you're real." He said it simply, like it was obvious. "Every omega we've met before has been playing a role. Trying to be what they thought we wanted, saying what they thought we wanted to hear. You're the first person who's been genuinely, unapologetically yourself. Prickly, guarded, defensive and also kind, talented, resilient. You didn't try to impress us. You just... existed. Authentically."
"I was rude to Garrett when he first showed up," I pointed out.
"You were cautious. There's a difference." Oliver's smile was wry. "And honestly? It was refreshing. Trinity has been throwing herself at us for years, and it's exhausting. Someone who actually had boundaries, who didn't immediately assume we were a prize to be won—that was attractive, Daphne. More attractive than you realize."
Trinity. The name sent a chill down my spine despite the warm afternoon. "Speaking of Trinity..."
"She won't bother you." Oliver's voice went hard, protective in a way that made something in my chest flutter. "I've already spoken with Sheriff Morrison. My father is reaching out to his contacts. We're building documentation, establishing a pattern of harassment. If she tries anything else, there will be consequences."
"I don't want to cause problems for you. If my being involved with your pack is going to make things difficult—" I said, but was cut off.
"Stop." The word was firm but not harsh. "Daphne, listen to me. Trinity's behavior is not your fault. Her obsession is not something you caused or something you need to apologize for.You are not a problem to be managed. You are someone we care about, and protecting you is not a burden. It's a privilege."
The fierceness in his voice undid something in me. I felt tears prick at my eyes—God, I was crying so much lately—and blinked them back stubbornly.
"I'm not used to this," I admitted, my voice rough. "People wanting to protect me. People treating me like I matter."
"Then get used to it." Oliver's tone softened, but the certainty remained. "Because we're not going anywhere, and we're going to keep showing you that you matter until you believe it."
We finished the meal slowly, conversation flowing more easily now that the heavier topics had been addressed. Oliver told me about growing up with Garrett—their families had been friends for generations, their bond forged in childhood and strengthened through the years. He talked about meeting Micah in school, recognizing a kindred spirit in the quiet, analytical man who saw patterns where others saw chaos. About Levi joining them later, bringing warmth and humor into their lives.
"We're not perfect," he said at one point. "We have disagreements, conflicts. Micah can be too analytical, too detached. Garrett sometimes takes on too much, forgets to ask for help. Levi uses humor to deflect when things get too heavy. And I..." He paused, something vulnerable flickering across his features. "I can be controlling. I'm working on it, but it's a tendency I have. The need to manage everything, protect everyone. It comes from a good place, but it can be suffocating if I'm not careful."
"You're telling me your flaws," I said slowly. "Why?"
"Because you should know what you're getting into." His blue eyes were serious. "This isn't a fairy tale, Daphne. We're real people with real problems. If you're going to be part of our pack, you deserve to know all of it—the good and the bad."
The honesty was disarming. I'd expected salesmanship, a highlight reel of their best qualities. Instead, Oliver was offering me truth, even the unflattering parts.
"I push people away," I heard myself say. "When things get hard, when I get scared, my instinct is to retreat. Build walls. Convince myself I'm better off alone." I looked down at my hands, twisted together in my lap. "I've been doing it for so long that I'm not sure I know how to stop."
"Then we'll learn together." Oliver reached out, his hand covering mine gently. His palm was warm, his grip steady. "You push, we stay. You build walls, we knock on the door. Eventually, you'll believe that we're not going anywhere."
"What if I never believe it?" The question came out smaller than I'd intended, more afraid.
"Then we'll spend the rest of our lives proving it anyway." He said it like a vow, simple and absolute. "That's what pack means, Daphne. Not giving up on each other. Not walking away when things get hard."
