Page 89 of Lavender and Honey

I sink onto a kitchen chair, my legs suddenly unable to support me. It's too fast, too much. I've known them such a short time. Rational people don't fall in love this quickly, especially not with four men at once. Especially not after everything I've been through. I should be more careful, more guarded.

But rationality seems to have abandoned me when it comes to them. The memory of last weekend surfaces—all of us in Elias's kitchen, flour dusting every surface as we attempted to make pasta from scratch. Soren with dough stuck to his eyebrow somehow. Finn's patient hands guiding mine through the motions of rolling. Lucian pretending to be annoyed but secretly taking photos of the chaos on his phone. Elias beaming with pride despite the disaster zone we'd created. The laughter that had bubbled up from somewhere deep inside me, rusty and unpracticed but genuine.

I press my palms against my eyes, trying to stem the tide of emotions threatening to overwhelm me. This wasn't supposed to happen. I came to Haven's Rest to be alone, to rebuild myself away from pack dynamics and expectations. Yet here I am, entangled with not just one wolf but four—a ready-made packthat somehow, impossibly, seems to have made space for me in their midst.

My phone buzzes again, and I glance down to see another message has joined Soren's:

Elias: Morning! I've been experimenting with a lavender honey. Thinking of you. Can't wait to see you later.

The simple message sends another wave of that uncomfortable warmth through my chest. I need help. I need someone who understands me, who knows my past and won't judge my present confusion. I need Avery. Before I can talk myself out of it, I tap her contact and lift the phone to my ear. Each ring seems to stretch into eternity, and I almost hang up before her familiar voice answers.

"Well, look who's calling before noon on a weekday," Avery says, her tone light and teasing. "To what do I owe this honor?"

"I think I'm in trouble," I blurt out, the words escaping before I can soften them.

There's an immediate shift in her voice, all humor vanishing. "What kind of trouble? Are you hurt? Do I need to come there?"

"No, no, nothing like that," I rush to reassure her. "I'm fine. Physically. It's just..." I trail off, suddenly unsure how to articulate the storm inside me.

"Lydia?" Avery prompts gently. "Talk to me."

I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and jump. "I think I'm in love. With all of them. All four of them."

The silence that follows seems to stretch for an eternity, though it's probably only seconds. Then Avery lets out a low whistle.

"Well," she says finally. "That's... not what I was expecting."

A nervous laugh bubbles up from my throat. "You and me both."

"Start from the beginning," she says, and I can almost see her settling in, preparing for a long conversation. "When did you realize?"

"Just now," I admit, twisting a loose thread on my sleeve. "Though I think it's been building for weeks. I just... I wasn't looking for this, Avery. I wasn't looking for anyone, let alone four someones. And now I can't stop thinking about them, can't stop wanting to be with them, can't stop feeling this... this warmth whenever they're near."

"That does sound like love," Avery says softly.

"But it can't be," I protest. "It's too fast. It's only been two months since I met Elias at the market. Normal people don't fall in love this quickly."

"Who said anything about normal?" Avery counters. "Lydia, honey, you've spent the last year building walls around yourself so high that most people couldn't even see over them. The fact that these men managed to find their way through—that says something significant."

I press my fingers to my temple, trying to organize my swirling thoughts. "But what if I'm just... lonely? What if I'm confusing gratitude or physical attraction for love?"

"Do you think that's what this is?" she asks, her tone free of judgment.

I consider the question seriously, examining the tangled knot of emotions inside me. "No," I admit finally. "It's more than that. When I'm with them, I feel... seen. Not just as an Omega, not just as an artist, but as me. All of me. And they don't try to change me or control me. They just... make space for me to be myself."

"That sounds pretty wonderful," Avery says, and I can hear the smile in her voice.

"It is." Tears prick at the corners of my eyes. "It's terrifying how wonderful it is. What if I'm wrong about them? What if I tell them how I feel and they reject me?”

"From everything you've told me about these men," Avery says thoughtfully, "they don't seem like the type to do that, They've been patient and kind with you so far, right?"

"Yes," I concede, remembering how carefully they've avoided pushing me, how they've let me set the pace for our relationship. "They've been... incredibly respectful."

"And they're already a pack, right? They all live together, they're all committed to each other? "

"Yes."

“So I don’t think they would reject you when they have committed to one another. Usually, the ones who run when confessions happen are people who have issues with commitment.”

---