Page 90 of Lavender and Honey

She's right, of course. Their pack structure is already unconventional—three Alphas and an Omega, all equals. They also made me know that they all wanted me.

"I'm just... scared," I whisper, the admission painful in its vulnerability.

"Of course you are," Avery says, her voice softening. "Love is scary, especially for someone who's been hurt the way you have. But Lydia, don't you think it's worth the risk? These men have already shown you in a hundred small ways that they care about you. They've respected your boundaries, supported your independence, celebrated your strengths."

"What if I'm not ready?" I ask, voicing my deepest fear. "What if they want more than I can give right now?"

"Then you tell them that," Avery says simply. "You say, 'I have these feelings for you, but I need to take things slow.' If they're worth your love, they'll understand."

"When did you get so wise?" I ask, a small smile tugging at my lips despite the tears still threatening.

"I've always been wise. You were just too stubborn to notice." Her tone is teasing, but then it softens again. "Lydia, I am soproud of you. Do you know that? A year ago, you wouldn't even have recognized these feelings, let alone called me to talk about them. You've come so far."

Her words wrap around me like a warm blanket, offering comfort and strength. "I don't know what to do with all this," I admit. "It feels too big, too overwhelming."

"You don't have to do anything right now," Avery reassures me. "You can sit with these feelings, get comfortable with them. There's no rush to make declarations or decisions."

"You think I should wait to tell them?"

She hums thoughtfully. "I think you should tell them when it feels right. Maybe that's today, maybe it's next week, maybe it's a month from now. The important thing is that you're honest with yourself about how you feel."

I nod, though she can't see me. "I do love them," I say, testing the words out loud for the first time. They feel strange on my tongue, but not wrong. "All of them, in different ways. Elias with his warmth and gentle persistence. Finn with his quiet strength and steady patience. Soren with his boundless joy and unexpected wisdom. Lucian with his careful attention and protective instincts."

"Sounds like love to me," Avery says softly.

"It's terrifying," I admit.

"The best things usually are," she counters. "But Lydia, you deserve this. You deserve to be loved, to be cherished, to be part of something bigger than yourself. If these men make you happy, if they make you feel safe and seen... don't let fear rob you of that joy."

I take a deep breath, letting her words settle into me. "When did my best friend get replaced by a greeting card writer?" I tease, trying to lighten the moment.

Avery laughs, the sound brightening the morning. "Blame it on all those romance novels I read. Now, tell me more aboutthese four men who've somehow managed to break through that fortress you call a heart."

As I launch into stories about them, about us, the panic that had gripped me begins to recede. The love remains—still new, still frightening in its intensity—but with Avery's reassurances echoing in my mind, it no longer feels like something I need to run from.Instead, it feels like something I might, someday soon, be brave enough to embrace.

Chapter Fifty-Four

The morning sun filters through the windows of my shop, casting long strips of light across the wooden floor. I move through my opening routine with practiced precision—checking inventory, arranging a new display of watercolors, dusting shelves that don't really need it. My hands know what to do even as my mind drifts back to this morning's revelation and Avery's gentle reassurances. Love. The word no longer feels like a trap set to ensnare me, but rather a garden I've stumbled into, unexpected but beautiful in its wild growth.

"You don't have to do anything right now,"Avery had said, her words a lifeline thrown into my sea of uncertainty. And she's right. I can simply exist with these feelings, let them settle into my bones before deciding what to do with them. The panic that gripped me earlier has receded, replaced by a strange, tentative peace. I straighten a row of paintbrushes, their bristles catching the light like tiny prisms. My shop has always been my sanctuary, but for the first time, it doesn't feel like a hiding place.Just a place I love, filled with things that bring me joy—not so different from how I feel about the four men who have somehow slipped past my defenses.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, startling me from my reverie. I pull it out to find a message from Lucian in our group chat:

Lucian: Good morning, Lydia. Just checking in. How are you today?

Such a simple text, yet I can hear the precise cadence of his voice in the words—measured, thoughtful, carrying that subtle protectiveness that never feels smothering. I lean against the counter, warmth spreading through my chest as I type my reply:

Me: Good morning. I'm well, just opening the shop. Quiet so far. How about you?

His response comes quickly:

Lucian: Busy day ahead, but nothing unmanageable. Elias sent me with fresh bread for the local food bank. Somehow I've become his delivery service.

I smile, picturing Lucian's mock exasperation that never quite hides his willingness to help. Before I can respond, another message pops up:

Elias: You OFFERED to take it since you were heading that direction anyway! Don't listen to him, Lydia. He's just grumpy because Soren used all the hot water this morning.

Soren: HEY! I did not! Someone cough FINN cough was in there forever before me!

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