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The initial touchesof fall are seeping into Seaport. Hot, sticky days drowned by blissfully cool waves of rain. But it’s not the raging storms that pull me out of bed just after sunrise or the work meeting Connor scheduled far too early. It’s the picture Nate texted the group chat that stole what little ability to rest I have.

The first fingers of peach sunlight brush Daphne’s face as she sleeps, making her hair lighter than usual. Her skin glows, freckles prominent over the bridge of her nose and cheeks as she rests against Nate’s broad chest. The sheets are low enough to see the length of her spine beneath one of those sinful little sets she likes. It reminds me of seeing her in Diamond’s, so rumpled and perfect even then. Nate looks like a lovesick idiot, which he is, but Daphne’s expression is softer than it was during her heat.

She’s at peace. Safe in the arms of her alpha.

I wish she was with me.

We’ve texted since she stormed out, and I’ve tried to give her space even when every cell in my body wants to be at her side. I’m not sure it’s the right choice, though. My frustration’s quick to rise, my sleep fitful and sparse. Nate’s pictures and theglimpses I catch through the window are sustaining me, but even that’s losing its touch. I need more.

I needher.

She’ll tell you when she’s ready to talk,I remind myself, refocusing on the painting in front of me. Adding dimension to Daphne’s hair and the plumpness of her upper lip.

It’s weird working somewhere other than my greenhouse. It’s the place I feel most grounded and centered. I could’ve had the original torn down and moved here, but it didn’t feel right to bring something from the past to this new future. Until the new one’s ready in the backyard, I’m stuck in the garage.

It takes everything in me to walk away from the painting when my alarm goes off for work. Even knowing I’ll be back in a few hours doesn’t stop me from thinking about Daph’s face as I head into the admin side of our building.

Missy’s on front desk duty. Her blonde hair’s pulled out of her face, signature glare directed at the phone and half-zipped coveralls baring a graphic t-shirt telling me to go fork myself, cartoon utensil included.

“Welcome to Morgan Restorations,” she drolls. “How can I—oh, it’s you.”

Her voice drops when she realizes I’m not a client, going from frosty customer service to just frost. Leaning onto the counter, I give her my biggest grin. “Looking chipper as always.”

One lone finger flips me the bird. “Shove it up your ass, Dez. Why are you all so happy, anyway?”

“Connor and Nate are here, then?”

“In the meeting room.” The phone rings, and she stares like the receiver’s going to jump up and bite her. Missy’s the best mechanic I’ve ever seen, but she’d rather deal with ornery bolts and irritating parts than answer a call, and she’s not scared to say it to our faces. “This fucking sucks.”

“You can do it, Miss. Just play nice.”

“I want a raise.” She picks up the phone with an impatient wave of her hand I take to meango away. “Morgan Restorations. How can I help you?”

I’m still laughing as I walk into the conference room. Connor’s obsession with overseeing absolutely everything means the wall connecting the garage to the admin space is a grid of one-sided glass. Soundproofing keeps the noise manageable, but the whole thing’s too fishbowl for me.

It feels good hugging my brothers again. Having us in the same room. The damage is still there, but that doesn’t mean it’s permanent. We’ve been through worse, and we’ll get through this, hopefully with a bonded omega.

“How’s Daph?” I ask Nate once I’m in my seat.

His eyes brighten, and he shoots me a wicked grin. “Much better now that she’s decided not to fight us on courting.”

Even after signing the pre-bond, I don’t think it’ll feel real until Daph tells me to my face.

“She hasn’t mentioned it to me.”

I couldn’t sleep last night, hoping she’d would text or call about the news. I was the one who asked her originally, the one who sat in the nest and promised we were fine with however long it took for her to decide on us. The longer I go without hearing from her directly, the more my thoughts shift to another omega I tried to court.

Days and nights spent coaxing Shelby to talk to me, dinners met with stony silence or false platitudes. Just enough affection to keep me from wondering if she was interested at all. We may not have been as close as she was with Connor, but I thought we were getting there. That she just needed time to settle and balance the responsibilities of a pack omega.

Then the final blow.

I don’t want him as my alpha, Connor. I just want you.

Years of my life dedicated to her, only to realize I was never a choice. That the woman I thought I’d bond with, have babies with, do life with, never thought I was good enough.

Will Daphne really be so different?

Connor squeezes my arm until I pull my eyes off the table. “They’re not the same.”