Page 39 of Mating With My Grumpy Alphas
The directness of the question caught me off guard, but I could see she needed honesty.
“We’ve talked,” I said carefully. “About making sure we’re not making you uncomfortable by all being interested in you at the same time.”
“All being interested,” she repeated. “So it’s not just me reading too much into things.”
“It’s not just you.” I set down my spoon and looked at her seriously. “Willa, I don’t know what your previous alpha told you about how these things work, but you don’t have to choose between us. You don’t even have to choose anyone if you don’t want to.”
“But what if I do want to?” The question came out small and uncertain. “What if I like all of you in different ways and I don’t know how to navigate that?”
There it is,I thought.She’s feeling something for all of us and doesn’t know what to do with it.
“Then you take your time figuring it out,” I said. “There’s no timeline, no pressure. Some omegas prefer one alpha, some prefer multiple. Some don’t want alphas at all. Whatever feels right for you is what we’ll support.”
“Even if that means sharing?”
The question hung between us, loaded with implications. I thought about the conversation at The Tumble Mug, the way we’d all agreed to put her needs first.
“Even if that means sharing,” I confirmed. “Though I’ll be honest, the idea of pack dynamics scares the hell out of me. I’ve never been good at the social stuff, never wanted to have to coordinate with other people or worry about territories and hierarchies.”
“Then why would you consider it?”
I looked at her sitting across from me, brave enough to ask direct questions even after the day she’d had, and felt something shift in my chest.
Because you’re worth changing for, I thought.
“Because I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want the chance to be important to you,” I said, the words coming out more honest than I’d intended. “I don’t care if that’s as friends, or pack members, or something else entirely. I just want to be someone you trust, someone you turn to when you need help or comfort or just someone to bring you dinner when you’ve had a terrible day.”
She looked at me like I’d just handed her the world. Like no one had ever told her she got to choose what love looked like.
Willa stared at me for a long moment, her eyes bright with unshed tears.
“I’m not ready to make any decisions,” she said quietly. “About relationships or pack bonds or anything like that. I’m stillfiguring out who I am without someone else controlling what I’m allowed to want.”
“Then don’t make any decisions. Just exist. Just heal. Just let us be here while you figure things out.”
“And if I never want anything romantic? If I just want friendships?”
“Then that’s what we’ll be. Good friends who bring you soup when you’re sick and help you carry groceries and celebrate when good things happen to you.”
“And if I want more than that?”
I reached across the table and covered her hand with mine, noting how small her fingers looked against my palm.
“Then we’ll figure out what more looks like. Together. At your pace, according toyourrules.”
She turned her hand over so our palms touched, and I felt the simple contact like an electric shock.
“I like you, Rhett,” she said softly. “I like Wes and Elias too, in different ways. I wanted you to know that, even if I’m not ready to do anything about it yet.”
“I like you too,” I said. “More than I’ve ever liked anyone. And I’m willing to wait as long as it takes for you to figure out what you want that to mean.”
We finished dinner talking about smaller things. Her job at the bookstore, my work at the garage, the way small towns felt different from cities. Normal conversation that felt profound because she was sharing it with me willingly, without walls or defensiveness.
When I got up to leave, she walked me to the door and surprised me by hugging me briefly.
“Thank you,” she said. “For dinner, for honesty, for making this feel less scary.”
“Anytime,” I said, and meant it completely.
