Page 40 of Meadowsweet and Marigold (EverAfter CozyXverse #1)

She turned her head slightly, enough to look up at him, and the vulnerability in her expression made his breath catch.

This close, he could see the flecks of gold in her green eyes, could count the freckles scattered across the bridge of her nose, could feel the warmth of her breath against his neck.

"I worked so hard," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"My whole life revolved around success, around being perfect, around making everyone proud.

I put the world ahead of myself for so long, thinking that if I just achieved enough, earned enough recognition, that I'd finally feel. .. worthy, I guess."

The admission broke something open in Meadow's chest. He'd suspected there were depths to her pain beyond simple romantic betrayal, but hearing her articulate the existential crisis that Magnolia's actions had triggered made him want to gather her against him and promise that she'd never have to question her worth again.

"You thought your pack was on board because they encouraged you," he said, understanding dawning. "They told you they supported your dreams."

"Constantly," she confirmed, leaning more heavily against him, as if his solid presence could anchor her to something real.

"They came to performances, celebrated my successes, told me how proud they were.

In the end, everyone was lying to my face, and I was simply the fool who wished to believe she was supported. "

She closed her eyes, and Meadow watched a tear slip down her cheek, catching firelight as it traced a path to her jaw. The sight made something fierce and protective rise in his chest, a desire to hunt down everyone who'd hurt her and make them understand the magnitude of what they'd destroyed.

"You weren't a fool," he said firmly. "You were trusting people who didn't deserve that trust. That makes them unworthy, not you naive."

They sat in silence for a moment, the only sounds the gentle crackling of the fire and the soft whisper of wind through the trees outside.

Meadow could feel the wine working through his system, making him more aware of her warmth against his side, of the way her hair smelled like vanilla and something uniquely her.

"What do you want now?" he asked finally, the question prompted by genuine curiosity about her hopes for the future. "You have this freedom, this chance to start over. What does that look like for you?"

Marigold was quiet for so long that he wondered if she'd dozed off against his shoulder. But then she stirred slightly, opening her eyes to stare into the dying embers of the fire.

"I want to start new on my terms," she said slowly, as if the words were being pulled from some deep place within her. "I want to do things that will give me new experiences, things I never had time for when my entire life was scheduled down to the minute."

She paused, taking another small sip of wine before continuing.

"I drilled myself to aim for perfection for so long, but that's not what was making me happy.

I was trapped in a cycle that centered the world around me and not my true dreams. I understand now that while dance was my passion, it had gotten to the point where I was losing the joy of it.

The pressure to be perfect, to be worthy of everyone else's expectations.

.. it was killing the thing I loved most."

The pain in her voice was palpable, the grief of someone who'd watched their greatest joy be slowly strangled by external demands. Meadow found himself tightening his arm around her, offering what comfort he could through simple human contact.

"So now I'm going to discover new joy," she continued, her voice gaining strength with each word.

"By doing things I never had time for, by exploring interests that have nothing to do with performance or perfection.

By putting myself first for once instead of constantly sacrificing my own needs for other people's approval. "

The determination in her voice stirred something warm and admiring in Meadow's chest. This was the woman he'd glimpsed beneath the careful composure—fierce and resilient and ready to fight for her own happiness.

"I'll help you do just that," he said, the promise emerging before he'd fully considered it. "And I know Flint and Gus would be happy to join in too. Whatever you want to try, whatever experiences you want to have—we'll make it happen."

She lifted her head from his shoulder to look at him directly, surprise and something else—hope, maybe—flickering in her eyes. "How are you going to help when you're all so busy? The ranch requires so much work, and you each have your own careers..."

"We can take turns," he said, the plan forming as he spoke.

"Each of us could introduce you to different activities around town, different hobbies or interests you might want to explore.

The ranch isn't super busy aside from maintenance and tending to the animals, so there's always room for different activities. "

The idea appealed to him more than he'd expected. Not just the chance to spend more time with her, but the opportunity to see Willowbend through her eyes, to rediscover his own community through the perspective of someone experiencing it fresh.

"Flint could teach you about metalworking if you're interested," he continued, warming to the theme.

"Gus knows every hiking trail and swimming hole within fifty miles.

I could show you the parts of the ranch most people never see—the old growth forest on the north boundary, the meadow where the wild horses sometimes graze. "

Marigold's eyes brightened with each suggestion, the wine and the warmth of the fire and the promise of new experiences combining to bring color back to her cheeks.

"You really think they'd want to do that?" she asked, and the careful hope in her voice made his chest tight with affection. "It wouldn't be a burden?"

"It'll never be a burden," he assured her, meaning it completely. "If anything, it'll be a fun break for all of us. We've gotten so focused on the ranch and our careers that we haven't really done much exploring lately either. It would be good for everyone."

She smiled then, the first completely unguarded, joyful expression he'd seen from her all evening. It transformed her face, making her look younger and lighter, and Meadow felt something shift in his chest at the sight of it.

"If you're sure it's not too much trouble," she said, "then yes. I'd love that. I'd love to try new things, to see what else is out there beyond what I've always known."

"It's settled then," he said, raising his wine glass in another toast. "To new experiences and the courage to pursue them."

"To finding joy again," she countered, her own glass meeting his with that same crystalline chime.

They drank to the promise of tomorrow's adventures, and Meadow watched as the wine and emotional exhaustion of the evening finally began to take their toll on her. Her eyelids grew heavy, her body relaxing more completely against his side with each passing minute.

He'd wanted to ask her about Cypress, about whether seeing him again had stirred up old feelings or if the closure they'd achieved was truly complete.

The question nagged at him—not from jealousy exactly, but from a need to understand where he stood, what he was competing with or collaborating toward.

But as Marigold's breathing grew slower and more regular, as her weight settled more fully against him in the trust of approaching sleep, he found the question mattered less than he'd thought it would.

Whatever she'd felt for Cypress, whatever she might still feel, it was part of her history.

What mattered was what she chose to build moving forward.

The fire had burned down to glowing coals, casting the room in deep shadows punctuated by warm amber light.

Outside, he could hear the soft sounds of night settling over the ranch—the distant lowing of cattle, the rustle of wind through leaves, the gentle creak of the house settling into evening's embrace.

Meadow let his own eyes drift closed, not sleeping but resting, enjoying the simple pleasure of having her trust him enough to let her guard down completely.

Her hair tickled his chin where her head rested against his shoulder, and he could feel the gentle rise and fall of her breathing through the contact between their bodies.

He thought about Cypress, about the easy way he'd fit back into the evening despite the years of absence.

There was something to be said for the photographer's maturity, his willingness to apologize without expecting forgiveness, his genuine happiness at seeing Marigold thriving.

It spoke well of his character, even if it complicated Meadow's own feelings about the situation.

The fact that Cypress was an Omega added another layer of complexity that Meadow wasn't entirely sure how to process.

He'd known about Cypress's designation since they were teenagers—their families' long friendship meant few secrets stayed hidden—but he'd never considered what it might mean for his own relationship with Marigold.

Most Alpha-Omega pairings followed traditional patterns, but Cypress's presence introduced possibilities that didn't fit neat categories.

If Marigold wanted to explore a connection with another Omega while building something with him.

.. it would be unconventional, certainly, but not impossible.

He'd seen other complex relationship dynamics work when all parties approached them with honesty and mutual respect.

The thought stirred something in him that wasn't quite jealousy but wasn't indifference either. A curious mixture of protectiveness and intrigue, concern for Marigold's emotional wellbeing balanced against his own growing feelings for her.

But as he listened to her peaceful breathing, felt the complete trust in the way she'd allowed herself to fall asleep against him, those concerns faded into something more manageable.

Cypress had probably moved on from whatever feelings he'd carried all those years ago.

The apology he'd offered tonight felt like closure rather than opening, an ending rather than a beginning.

And even if it wasn't, even if complications arose from his extended stay in Willowbend, Meadow found himself surprisingly at peace with the uncertainty. He'd meant what he said about taking things one day at a time, about trusting the process rather than trying to control outcomes.

What he felt for Marigold was real and growing stronger every day. What she felt for him seemed equally genuine, if still tentative and healing. Whatever else happened, whatever other connections she might explore or rediscover, those feelings would be part of the equation.

The rest they'd figure out together, with the kind of honest communication that her previous relationships had clearly lacked.

It was all any of them could do—show up authentically, treat each other with respect and care, and trust that love would find a way to flourish in whatever form it chose to take.

For now, it was enough to sit in the dying firelight with her warm weight against his side, listening to her peaceful breathing and feeling grateful for the unexpected turns that had brought them both to this moment.

Tomorrow would bring its own questions and possibilities, but tonight offered the simple gift of connection and the promise of more to come.