Page 25 of Mating With My Grumpy Alphas
You’re not broken, Willa. You’re healing. And healing things need patience and gentle care, not fixing.
The thought came to me with the kind of clarity that told me it was important, the kind of insight that usually guided my work with traumatized omegas. But I couldn’t say it directly, not yet. She wasn’t ready to hear that she deserved care without conditions.
“The rabbits knew the fox had been hurt,” I said instead. “They could see it in the way she moved, the way she watched the woods for danger. But they didn’t see damage. They saw courage and intelligence and a spirit that had survived things that would have broken weaker animals.”
Willa’s hands stilled on the blanket, and I caught a hint of tears in her scent before she quickly blinked them away.
“Thank you,” she said quietly. “For the story. For being patient with the children. For… for understanding that some animals need more time than others.”
“Everyone heals at their own pace,” I said. “There’s no timeline for learning to trust again.”
She nodded, not quite meeting my eyes, but the rigid set of her shoulders had softened slightly. It wasn’t a breakthrough, but it was progress. The walls weren’t coming down, but maybe a few stones had shifted.
As I packed up the remaining books and blankets, I found myself thinking about patience and the long game of earning someone’s trust. Willa was like a wild animal that had been mistreated. She needed space and consistency and the kind of gentle persistence that proved itself through actions rather than words.
I could be patient. I’d been patient with skittish omegas before, had learned that the ones who took longest to trust were often the ones who bonded deepest once they felt safe.
She’s worth waiting for,I realized as I watched her reorganize the children’s section with unconscious care. A realization that came with an awareness that this wasn’t the same as all the omegas I’d helped before. That my need to help Willa feel herself again wasn’t just professional but something so much deeper.Whatever it takes, however long it takes, she’s worth waiting for.
Chapter 11
Rhett
I’d been staring at the same carburetor for twenty minutes, telling myself I was focused on work when really I was thinking about storytime yesterday and the way Willa had looked watching Elias with those kids. Soft. Unguarded. Like she’d forgotten to keep her walls up for a few minutes.
Not that it mattered. I’d slipped out yesterday before she could even realise I was there. Not that I had any reason to see her again. The bookstore’s heating system was running fine, her car was in good shape, and I wasn’t the type to manufacture problems just to have an excuse to talk to someone.
Except I’d driven past Pine & Pages three times this week on my way to lunch. Except I’d volunteered to pick up parts in town when I could have had them delivered. Except I was currently rebuilding a perfectly functional carburetor because sitting in my garage gave me a view of Main Street and the bookstore’s front door.
“Pathetic,” I muttered, wiping my hands on a shop rag. “Absolutely pathetic.”
The sound of footsteps on gravel made me look up, and I felt my heart do something stupid when I saw Willa walking toward the garage. She was wearing dark jeans and a cream-colored sweater that made her look soft and approachable, her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. In her hands was a paper bag that looked suspiciously like it came from the bookstore.
“Rhett?” she called out, stopping just inside the garage entrance like she wasn’t sure she was welcome.
“Yeah,” I managed, standing up and trying to look like I hadn’t been thinking about her for the past hour. “What’s up?”
“Hollis asked me to bring this over.” She held up the bag, looking slightly puzzled. “Said you’d ordered a book and it came in?”
A book. I hadn’t ordered any books. I could count on one hand the number of books I’d read in the past year, and none of them had come from Pine & Pages.
“Must be a mistake,” I said, but I walked over to take the bag anyway. Our fingers brushed as she handed it over, and I caught a hit of jasmine and rain that made my alpha instincts sit up and take notice.
I opened the bag and immediately felt heat crawl up my neck. Inside was a paperback romance novel with a shirtless man on the cover, his muscles gleaming as he swept a woman into his arms. The title, in flowing script across the top, read “The Duke’s Forbidden Desire.”
“Oh God,” I said, staring at the cover in horror.
Willa leaned forward to see what had caused my reaction, and I watched her eyes widen before she pressed her lips together like she was trying not to laugh.
“Well,” she said carefully, “Hollis did say you were very specific about wanting this particular title.”
“I didnotorder this,” I said quickly, probably too quickly. “I mean, there’s nothing wrong with people who read these books, but I definitely did not order a book about a duke’s… forbidden anything.”
Willa lost the battle against her laughter, a sound that was warm and genuine and made something in my chest loosen. “Rhett, I think Hollis is matchmaking.”
“What?”
“He’s been dropping hints all week about how I should get to know more people in town, especially you.” Willa’s eyes were bright with amusement. “Then today he suddenly had this urgent book delivery that absolutely couldn’t wait until you came into the store yourself. I’m guessing he thought getting me to walk over here might create an opportunity for conversation.”
