Page 49 of Mating With My Grumpy Alphas
“Why now?” I asked. “You could have done this months ago.”
“Because months ago, I was still hoping I could change their minds from the inside. Still believing that showing them better alternatives might work.” He shook his head. “It took watching the council meeting, seeing how they’d already bought the votesthey needed, to realize that playing fair wasn’t going to save this place.”
“And now?”
“Now I choose principle over profit. Community over corporate interests. The right thing over the easy thing.” He looked at me steadily. “Even if it costs me everything I thought I wanted.”
I thought about courage and sacrifice, about choosing what mattered over what was expected. About the difference between protecting something because it served your interests and protecting it because it was right.
“This won’t just stop the development,” I realized. “It’ll expose the corruption, the false reports, the bribery attempts.”
“Yes. And when it does, I’ll be officially disowned, probably blacklisted from the family business entirely.” Cassian’s expression was calm, like he’d already made peace with the consequences. “But I’ll be able to sleep at night knowing I did the right thing.”
Some things were worth losing everything for.
My phone buzzed with a text message as we talked. I glanced at it quickly. Willa, asking if I’d seen any updates on the owl release she’d photographed last week. Such a simple question, but it reminded me that some battles weren’t just about preserving habitat or protecting watersheds. They were about creating the kind of community where people could flourish, where artists could rediscover their gifts, where conservation work mattered because it connected to human stories that gave life meaning.
“Thank you,” I said to Cassian, meaning it completely. “This changes everything.”
“Don’t thank me yet. Wait until you see if the evidence actually holds up in court.”
“It will.” For the first time since the council meeting disaster, I felt genuine confidence. “And when it does, this community owes you more than you’ll ever know.”
“The community doesn’t owe me anything. But maybe…” He hesitated, then continued. “Maybe when this is over, when my family has cut me off and I’m figuring out what comes next, maybe Hollow Haven could use someone who understands how corporate development really works. Someone who could help communities protect themselves before the bulldozers show up.”
The possibility of Cassian staying, of turning his inside knowledge toward community protection rather than corporate profit, was something I hadn’t expected to consider.
“That sounds like it could be useful,” I said carefully.
“It sounds like it could be home,” he replied quietly.
Driving back to town with the envelope of evidence on my passenger seat, I found myself thinking about choices and consequences, about the courage it took to choose principle over profit. About the difference between the family you’re born into and the community you choose to serve.
My phone buzzed with another message from Willa as I reached the edge of town.I’d really like it if you could come tomorrow night. It would be great to see you there if you’re not too busy.
The vulnerable hope in that message hit me harder than I expected. She wanted me there. Not as obligation or politeness, but because my presence would matter to her.
I typed back quickly:Looking forward to celebrating what you’ve accomplished. You’ve earned every bit of recognition coming your way.
Tomorrow night, I’d watch Willa face her first public exhibition since Sterling tried to destroy her confidence. I’d see the community recognize talent that had been suppressed and dismissed. And maybe, if I was reading the situation correctly,I’d witness the beginning of something that went beyond conservation partnership or artistic support.
Something that looked suspiciously like the foundation for deeper connection than either of us had been ready to acknowledge.
But first, I had an environmental appeal to file and a development project to stop. Some things were worth fighting for, and some victories were worth savoring when they came.
Chapter 21
Willa
Standing in front of the community center mirror, trying to decide if my outfit looked professional or like I was trying too hard, I could barely believe this was actually happening. Three weeks ago, I’d been ignoring the existence of the camera gear hidden in my car, convinced I’d never be strong enough to share my work with strangers again. Tonight, fifteen of my wildlife conservation photographs would be displayed for public viewing, with an actual opening reception where people would come specifically to see what I’d created.
The navy dress I’d chosen was simple but elegant, professional without being stuffy. My hair fell in loose waves around my shoulders, and I’d managed just enough makeup to look polished without feeling like I was wearing a costume. But my hands were shaking as I applied the final touch of lip gloss, nervous energy making it hard to hold still.
You can do this, I told myself, meeting my own eyes in the mirror.These are good photographs. They tell important stories. People need to see them.
But knowing something intellectually and feeling it emotionally were very different things. The last time I’d shown my work publicly, Sterling had spent the entire evening pointing out technical flaws and explaining to anyone who would listen how my “hobby” was just a phase before I focused on more practical pursuits. By the end of that night, I’d felt small and apologetic about taking up space with my artistic pretensions.
This felt different, though. These photographs weren’t created to satisfy someone else’s vision of what I should be producing. They weren’t filtered through Sterling’s demands for commercial viability or acceptable subject matter. They were mine. Honest documentation of conservation work that mattered, wildlife stories that deserved to be told, moments of resilience and hope that I’d captured because they moved me.
