Page 14 of Meadowsweet and Marigold (EverAfter CozyXverse #1)

NOTHING BUT RESPECTING BOUNDARIES

~ M EADOW~

That evening, Meadow stands at his kitchen counter, chopping vegetables with mechanical precision.

The rhythm of the knife against the cutting board creates a steady background noise to his circling thoughts. Steam rises from the pot of simmering stew, fogging the window that overlooks his property, blurring the landscape into indistinct shapes of amber and gold as the sun begins its descent.

The cabin — built by his own hands over three summers —feels especially empty tonight. He's grown accustomed to solitude, and even come to appreciate it, but occasionally the silence presses in, reminding him of all he's chosen to leave behind.

"Damn it," he mutters, realizing he's been cutting the same carrot for nearly a minute, reducing it to tiny, uneven pieces.

He scrapes the vegetables into the pot and wipes his hands on a dish towel, trying to focus on the practical matters at hand rather than the emerald-eyed distraction that keeps invading his thoughts.

Hiring Marigold makes sense.

The ranch work has been piling up, and Flint and Gus have their own responsibilities. Eli is there once in a while, and he has a few other men who come and go when they have the spare time in their schedule, but nothing permanent.

An extra pair of hands will be useful, especially with winter approaching. It's a business decision, nothing more.

The lie tastes bitter even in the privacy of his own mind.

Truth is, he recognized something in her today — something beyond the delicate features and graceful movements.

A determination to survive. To rebuild.

The same fierce will that carried him through his darkest days after losing everything he thought would define his future.

A branch scrapes against the window, carried by the rising wind.

Night comes earlier now as autumn deepens its hold on the valley. Meadow moves to stir the stew, letting the rich aroma of herbs and root vegetables fill his senses, grounding him in the present.

He wonders what Marigold is doing now, whether she's second-guessing her decision to accept his offer. Whether she's alone in that little rental cottage on the edge of town, or if Cypress has stopped by to check on her.

I doubt Cypress Wolfe has even introduced himself. He just got back from some commitments in the big city. I barely know him myself, though I feel less worried about him being around because he’s one of those rarities.

A rare Male Omega.

You don’t see them anywhere honestly. Their rarity should be appreciated, but many male omegas hide in the shadows or act like Alphas because those in power love to abuse such individuals.

Enjoy auctioning them off and plaguing their lives with cruelty.

Willowbend doesn’t tolerate any of that stuff.

No black market, no selling of Omegas. No hidden abuse and drug dealing.

If you weren’t an open book in these parts, you faced the consequences of being escorted right out.

Voluntarily or by force, if it means keeping the peace in these cozy meadows and valleys.

At least there weren’t very many Alphas around where she lived, from the address he confirmed when she filled out the form with her general information for the hiring process.

The thought of another Alpha in her space sends an involuntary growl rumbling in his chest.

"Get it together," he scolds himself, shaking his head at his own territorial instinct. "She's not yours to protect."

Yet the Alpha part of him disagrees vehemently. It’s hard to not think of her well-being and how it’s absolutely his concern, that every instinct screaming to shelter and safeguard her is justified.

The conflict leaves him restless, prowling his own home like a caged animal.

He abandons the stew to simmer and moves to the living room, where floor-to-ceiling windows frame the twilight landscape. The mountains rise in the distance, ancient sentinels watching over the valley, indifferent to the small human dramas unfolding in their shadow.

His phone buzzes on the coffee table, Gus's name lighting up the screen.

"How'd it go with Marigold?" Gus asks when Meadow answers, no preamble is needed between old friends.

Of course, he’d be one of the few I ever told anything about in real-time, which is exactly why he’s calling to check in because if I’m thinking and talking about it, that means it’s a big deal to me.

A big deal to our pack.

Meadow drops onto the couch, stretching his long legs toward the unlit fireplace.

"She's starting tomorrow. We'll see."

A pause on the other end.

"That's it? 'We'll see'? Cypress said she barely leaves that cottage except for essentials.” He’s more intrigued that Cypress has been watching her but hasn’t introduced himself. Or at least it seems. “Getting her to work at the ranch is huge."

"Don't make it into something it's not," Meadow warns, though he knows Gus's assessment is correct. "Cypress probably only observed her since she moved in, and he was the one who placed the poster on her door and around the area poles to gauge interest. Not like it’s deliberate or anything…but she’s an Omega and she needs work. I need help. Simple transaction."

Gus's laugh carries through the line.

"Sure. And I'm just a simple country vet, not the guy who stitched you up after you took on those three city Alphas who were harassing the Omega waitress at Rosie's."

Always reminding me of stupid shit…

"That was different."

Not really. Anyone who tries to take advantage of someone deemed “vulnerable” in our society gets shit from me first before the rest of our little pack intervenes.

I’m as calm as ever on the outside, but rile me up with injustice and you won’t last long before I’m making them into a problem that needs to be dealt with.

"Was it?" Gus challenges. "You've always had a thing for protecting the wounded ones, Meadow. Not judging…hell, it's one of your better qualities. Just saying...be careful. That woman's carrying more baggage than meets the eye."

Whatever.

As much as I don’t want to hear it, he’s right. He just met her. Barely knows her. Has no clue what she ran away from to drop whatever hopes, dreams, and career she carried in the city to land her in the midst of Willowbend.

Someone her age shouldn’t even know these parts, which means she learned about this place either from her parents or grandparents.

This place was labeled a safe place…and that’s why she must have ventured here.

Meadow rubs a hand over his face, feeling the day's stubble rough against his palm.

"I know."

"Do you?" Gus's voice softens. "After what happened with Eliza?—"

"Don't." The word comes out sharp enough to cut. "That's not relevant."

The silence stretches between them, laden with unspoken history.

"I'm just looking out for you," Gus finally says.

Meadow sighs, regretting his harsh tone.

"I know. And I appreciate it. But this is different. Professional. She needs space to heal, not another Alpha or Alphas complicating her life."

Making sure not to give him any ideas either.

We don’t need an Omega right now for our dynamic. We’ve just found balance and peace.

We have to keep it that way.

"If you say so." Gus doesn't sound convinced. "Anyway, I called to let you know those medical supplies you ordered for the stable came in. I can drop them by tomorrow afternoon."

"Thanks." Meadow is grateful for the change of subject. "How's the new clinic coming along?"

They talk for several more minutes about neutral topics — Gus's expanding veterinary practice, the early winter predicted by the almanac, and repairs needed on the fence line separating their properties.

By the time they hang up, the sky outside has deepened to indigo, scattered stars appearing like distant beacons.

Meadow returns to the kitchen serves himself a bowl of stew, and eats standing at the counter, gazing out at the night-shrouded landscape. The food is good — hearty and filling — but he barely tastes it, his mind elsewhere.

Tomorrow, Marigold will step into his daily life, bringing her rain-scent and watchful eyes into the routine he's so carefully constructed.

The thought both unsettles and energizes him.

"Professional," he reminds himself aloud. "Respectful boundaries."

The empty cabin offers no response.

Only the soft ticking of the wall clock marking time's steady advance.