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The proximity makes my omega instincts pay attention in ways I'm not ready to examine. "But there's something satisfying about fixing things yourself," he continues, his voice quieter now. "Making a place work the way it's supposed to."

The way he says it makes me think we're not just talking about houses.

I take a step back, clutching the books to my chest, needing space to think clearly. Julian watches the movement with those dark, perceptive eyes but doesn't follow, like he's already memorized how close I was willing to get.

"Julian!" Levi's voice calls from the back room. "Are those quarterly reports going to finish themselves?"

"Probably not," Julian calls back, but there's no urgency in his voice. He looks at me with what might be mild amusement. "I should probably get back to actual work."

"The register's up front," Julian says, settling back into his chair and reaching for his abandoned novel. "Levi should be out in a minute."

"You're not going back to the quarterly reports?"

Julian picks up his book and gives me a look that's almost a smile. "I think I'll finish this chapter first. Some things are worth taking your time with."

The way he says it, his eyes holding mine as he speaks, makes it clear he's not talking about Steinbeck. Heat creeps up my neck as I realize he's talking about me, about this conversation, about whatever's happening between us in this quiet corner of the bookstore.

Levi emerges from the back room, tall and lean with dark hair and a comfortable sweater, moving with easy grace. When he sees me, his face breaks into a warm smile.

"Lila! Good to see you again," he says, coming around the counter. "How's the settling in going? Dean mentioned you had some excitement with an overcooked casserole and emergency door repairs."

"Much better, thanks to people like you bringing actual food," I say with a grin. "Your soup was incredible, by the way. And yes, between the oven trying to burn all my food and door handles falling off, I'm definitely getting the full homeowner experience."

"Glad you liked the soup," Levi says with a chuckle as he starts ringing up my purchases. "Sounds like you're keeping the local fire department busy."

"I'm working on that," I say, then pause when I realize how that sounds. "I mean, I'm trying to learn how to handle things myself so I don't need rescuing every time something goes wrong."

"Nothing wrong with asking for help when you need it," Levi says gently, but there's understanding in his voice that suggests he gets why I want to handle things myself.

"Find everything you needed?"

"More than I expected," I admit, glancing back toward where Julian has returned to his reading.

"Julian's helpful," Levi says with genuine affection. "Even when he's supposed to be doing my books instead of reading my inventory."

"I can hear you," Julian calls without looking up.

"You're supposed to hear me," Levi calls back. "It's called accountability."

I smile at their easy banter and head for the door, canvas bag in hand. The bell chimes as I leave, and I don't let myself look back. But I can feel someone watching me walk away.

The summer heat feels stifling after the cool quiet of the bookstore, and I realize I'm slightly breathless. I need to focus on practical things. Groceries, normal tasks that don't involve analyzing the way certain alphas make my pulse race.

The grocery store is a relief after the intensity of the bookstore. Normal tasks like buying milk and bread feel grounding, manageable.

I'm debating between coffee brands when I catch a familiar scent. Toasted marshmallow and amber, warm and comforting.

"Finding everything okay?" Dean's voice comes from behind me, and when I turn, he's wearing civilian clothes, looking unfairly good in jeans and flannel.

"Much better than my cooking adventures the other day," I admit.

Dean's smile is immediate and warm, and the easy humor in his eyes does something warm and uncomplicated to my chest that's a welcome relief after the charged complexity of my interaction with Julian.

"I was actually going to stop by later," Dean says, running a hand through his hair. "Make sure the door repair held up okay and show you how to fix it properly. But since you're here..."

He trails off, looking slightly nervous.

"Since I'm here?"

"Would you like to have dinner? I was thinking I could cook for you. Make up for that oven disaster the other day." His cheeks flush slightly. "I mean, if you want. No pressure."

I hesitate, and Dean must read something in my expression because he quickly adds, "As friends, I mean. Just neighbors being neighborly. Nothing more than that."

The clarification makes it easier to breathe. Just dinner. Just friendship. No pack dynamics or expectations.

"That sounds wonderful," I hear myself say, and Dean's face lights up with relief.

"Great! I'll bring everything over around six, if that works? I make a decent stir-fry."

"Perfect. I'll try not to burn the house down between now and then."

"I have faith in you," Dean says with that warm smile. "Besides, if anything goes wrong, you know where to find me."

He heads toward the produce section with a spring in his step, and I watch him go, appreciating his confidence and the fact that dinner with Dean will be exactly what it appears to be. Good food, pleasant company, no hidden agendas.

But as I finish my shopping, I can't shake the memory of Julian's steady hands and the way he looked at me like I was an equation he wanted to solve. And beneath that, the warm solidity of Callum's presence in my kitchen yesterday, the way his gruff competence made everything feel manageable.

Three alphas, three different ways to ruin my perfectly planned independence. I should write a guide. "How to Attract Exactly What You're Trying to Avoid: A Memoir."

The walk home gives me time to think. Julian makes me want to be known in ways that feel dangerous. Dean makes me want to be cared for in ways that feel safe. Callum makes me want to be respected in ways that feel empowering.

And all of them make me question whether independence is really what I came here to find, or if maybe I came here to figure out what I actually want instead of what I think I should want.

But as I sit in my quiet kitchen, surrounded by groceries I bought myself and books that will teach me to fix my own problems, I can't shake the feeling that independence might be more complicated than I originally thought.

I'm still puzzling over this when there's a soft knock at my door. When I open it, I find a small package on my front porch, wrapped in brown paper.

I look up and down the street, but there's no one in sight.

I retrieve the package and unwrap it to find three books. One on historical home restoration, another on basic electrical work, and a slim volume of poetry.

There's a note tucked between the pages of the poetry book, written in the same careful handwriting as the card that came with the flowers:

Thought you might find these useful. The poetry has nothing to do with fixing houses, but sometimes you need words that aren't about purpose. - J

I open the poetry book to find a page marked with a small piece of paper. The poem is about building something beautiful from broken pieces, about finding strength in starting over.

The fact that Julian chose this specific poem, marked this specific page, feels deliberate in a way that makes my chest tight with something I'm not ready to name.

Between Dean's dinner invitation, Julian's literary care packages, and Callum's promise to teach me actual home repair, independence in Honeyridge Falls is going to be significantly more complicated than I planned.

But as I sit in the late afternoon light, reading poetry about rebuilding and renewal, I find I'm not quite as bothered by that complication as I probably should be.