Page 37 of The Careless Alpha

"You're right," I whispered under my breath as I refilled coffee cups at table six. "Today is about us."

The regulars at Rita's had become like family over the past two months. There was Brett, the lobsterman who always ordered the same breakfast and left generous tips. Mrs. Walker, who taught at the local elementary school and brought me books she thought I'd enjoy. Tom Brady, who ran the hardware store and never failed to ask how I was feeling.

They didn't know I was a wolf shifter. They didn't know about mate bonds or pack hierarchies or the complicated supernatural world I'd left behind. To them, I was just Annalise, a hardworking girl who'd gotten knocked up by some loser and was doing her best to build a life for herself and her baby.

And maybe that's exactly who I was now.

"Order up!" called Jimmy from the kitchen. He was Rita's nephew, about my age, with kind eyes and calloused hands from his part-time job at the marina. He'd asked me out twice in the past month, both times with genuine warmth and both times accepting my gentle refusal with good grace.

I collected the plates and delivered them to a family of tourists who were arguing over whether to spend the day at the lighthouse or the beach. Normal people with normal problems, living normal lives that didn't revolve around ancient traditions and supernatural politics.

Do you miss it?Sapphire asked as I watched the family debate their vacation plans.

"Sometimes," I admitted silently. "I miss Luna Etta. I miss the forest. I miss feeling like I belonged somewhere."

You belong here now. These people care about you.

She was right. The people of Crescent Bay had welcomed me without question, creating a safety net I'd never expected. When morning sickness had made it hard to work full shifts, Rita had adjusted my schedule without complaint. When I'd struggled to afford new clothes, Mrs. Walker had quietly delivered a bag of "extras" she claimed she didn't need. When the second-hand crib I'd bought felt too wobbly, Tom came over and spent an afternoon reinforcing it, refusing to let me pay for the new hardware.

Kindness without strings attached. Help without hierarchy or obligation. It was a revelation.

"You doing okay, honey?" Rita appeared at my elbow, her sharp blue eyes taking in my expression. She was the heart of both the diner and the small community that revolved around it. Her graying hair was always pulled back in a practical bun, and she wore the same style of comfortable shoes every day, but there was nothing ordinary about her fierce protectiveness of the people she cared about.

"Just thinking," I said, forcing a smile.

"Dangerous habit," she said with a grin. "Especially on your birthday."

I nearly dropped the coffeepot I was holding. "How did you—"

"Hon, I've been running this diner for thirty-odd years. You think I don't notice when one of my girls looks extra thoughtful on what might be a significant date?" Rita's expression softened. "Besides, you filled out that employment paperwork two months ago. I may be old, but I can still do math."

Heat flooded my cheeks. I'd been so careful not to mention my birthday, not wanting sympathy or awkward celebrations. The idea of marking the day I was supposed to become Luna while pregnant and alone felt too painful to acknowledge.

"I wasn't... I mean, I didn't want to make a big deal about it," I stammered.

"Why not? Turning eighteen is important. It's the day you officially become an adult, get to make your own choices, chart your own course." Rita's eyes were knowing. "Seems like that might be especially meaningful for someone in your situation."

She was right, though not in the way she thought. In a wolf pack, we become adults at sixteen when we get our wolves. Eighteen was supposed to be the day I gained the power to scent my mate, to feel our bond in its full intensity. Instead, the severed connection where that bond should have been felt like a constant ache in my chest.

"I don't have anyone to celebrate with," I said quietly.

Rita's expression grew fierce. "The hell you don't. Family isn't just blood, hon. Sometimes it's the people who choose to stand by you when things get tough."

Before I could ask what she meant, she was gone, bustling back toward the kitchen with purpose. I continued my rounds, trying not to read too much into her words.

The lunch rush kept me busy enough to avoid dwelling on the significance of the day. It wasn't until mid-afternoon that I realized something was different. The regular customers who usually left after eating were lingering, ordering extra coffee and dessert they didn't seem particularly interested in consuming.

"Annalise!" Rita called from behind the counter. "Can you come here for a minute?"

I approached cautiously, noting the way conversations had quieted and several people were watching me with barely contained smiles.

"What's going on?" I asked.

"Well," Rita said, her eyes twinkling, "a little bird told us it's someone's eighteenth birthday today."

Before I could respond, the entire diner erupted in a chorus of "Happy Birthday!" and Jimmy emerged from the kitchen carrying a small cake with eighteen candles.

"You didn't have to—" I started, but my voice caught as tears pricked my eyes.