"Right?" Levi was grinning now, the earlier tension about Trinity momentarily forgotten. "It's hands-on, it's creative, and it's impossible to take yourself too seriously when you're covered in clay. She spends so much time being careful and controlled…I want to give her permission to make a mess. To laugh at herself. To just... play."
I filed that away. Levi understood something important about Daphne, that she needed space to be imperfect, to fail without consequences. It was a different approach than mine, but equally valid. Equally necessary.
"She laughed during the hike," Garrett said quietly, almost to himself. "When we reached the summit and the wind nearly knocked her over. She grabbed onto me and just... laughed. Like she'd forgotten she was supposed to be guarded."
"That's what we need to give her more of," Oliver added, settling into his own chair with a plate piled high. "Moments where she forgets to be afraid. Where she's just... present."
The kitchen fell quiet for a moment, all of us eating and thinking. The bacon was perfectly crispy, the eggs fluffy and well-seasoned, Levi's doing, since he was the only one of us who could consistently produce edible breakfast food. The coffee had cooled enough to be drinkable now, and I sipped it slowly, feeling the caffeine start to cut through the fog of early morning.
"We need to talk about logistics." Oliver's voice shifted into that practical Alpha tone that meant pack business. "Friday is Micah's date. Levi, when are you planning the pottery thing?"
"Monday," Levi with an informed grin on his face, "Gives her the weekend to recover from whatever emotional processing she needs to do after Friday. That and she does the market on Saturday."
"Good thinking." Oliver nodded approvingly. "Garrett already had his hike. I've got the greenhouse surprise planned for after Levi's date."
"Greenhouse surprise?" I raised an eyebrow.
Oliver's expression softened in a way that was almost startling on his usually controlled face. "I'm converting the old greenhouse on the back of the property. The one that's been falling apart. I want to rebuild it for her—give her a space to grow things year-round, expand her operation if she wants to."
"Oliver." Garrett's voice was thick with something like awe. "That's..."
"It's practical," Oliver cut in, echoing my own earlier defense. "She's passionate about her garden, about her business. This gives her options. Resources."
"It's romantic as hell and you know it." Levi threw a piece of toast at him, which Oliver caught without looking. "Don't pretend you're not trying to woo her."
A faint flush crept up Oliver's neck, and I found myself smiling despite the lingering worry about Trinity. This was what the pack was supposed to be, support and teasing and genuine care all tangled together. And now Daphne was becoming part of it, slowly but surely weaving herself into the fabric of us.
"The point," Oliver continued, clearing his throat, "is that we're all making an effort. Showing her different sides of who we are, what we can offer. But we need to be coordinated about it. Give her space to breathe between dates, make sure we're not overwhelming her."
"Agreed." I nodded, pulling out my phone to check my notes. "She's processing a lot—the courting itself, the Trinityconfrontation, whatever emotional work she's doing internally. Too much too fast and she might panic."
"You know her patterns better than any of us," Garrett put in though, not accusatory, just observant. "That morning on her porch—you really got through to her."
I remembered that morning in fragments: the way Daphne had sat beside me like a wild animal deciding whether to trust an outstretched hand, the careful honesty I'd offered because I knew she'd see through anything less. The scent of her—honeysuckle and green growing things, that had made something ancient and primal stir in my chest.
"I was honest with her," I told him simply. "That's all. She's been lied to—by omission, by people pretending to be things they weren't—so many times that honesty became the most valuable thing I could offer."
"Keep that up Friday night." Levi pointed his fork at me. "Don't try to be something you're not. She's not looking for smooth romance-novel moves. She's looking for something real."
Real. I could do real. Real was all I knew how to be. My phone buzzed, and I glanced down to see a text from Daphne. My heart rate picked up, another data point for the file.
Still on for Friday? I found an old star chart in one of my books. Thought you might find it interesting.
The message was simple, straightforward, and yet it made something warm spread through my chest. She was thinking about our date. Thinking about me. Looking for ways to connect through shared interests.
I typed back:Absolutely still on. I'd love to see the chart. Historical astronomical documents are fascinating, they show how our understanding of the sky has evolved.
Three dots appeared, then:I knew you'd say something like that. See you Friday?
I'll be there. At nine on the dot.
I set down the phone, aware that the others were watching me with varying degrees of amusement.
"That smile," Levi observed, "is extremely un-Micah-like."
"Shut up." I couldn't quite make the words bite, couldn't quite suppress the warmth that was spreading through me despite my best efforts at control.
Garrett reached over and clapped me on the shoulder, his grip warm and solid. "You've got this. Just be the guy who sat on her porch and told her the truth about what she was getting into. That's the guy she said yes to." He was right. I knew he was right. But knowing something intellectually and feeling it in your bones were two very different things.
