My last relationship ended in flames.
Gossip, lies, and trust that shattered beyond repair.
I swore I wouldn't put myself through that again. Vowed to focus on the ranch, on Nash and Theo, and on building something stable with my pack brothers.
But watching Reverie clutch those books like they're treasure, seeing the joy on her face from such a simple gift...
Maybe it wouldn't be like before. To have an Omega who loved books and dreamed about cafes and laughed like sunshine wouldn't break my heart.
Perhaps she'd heal it instead.
Dangerous thinking.
She's a stranger.
You don't even know her.
One collision in a bookshop and you're already imagining futures that don't exist.
But I can't shake the feeling that this means something. That crashing into her wasn't a random chance but something more.
Fate. Destiny. Whatever you want to call it, when the universe puts someone in your path and says, 'Pay attention. This one matters.'
Reverie disappears back toward the staff room, probably to show off her gift to her coworkers, and I'm left sitting in my quiet alcove with a book I'm not reading and a heart that's beating faster than it should.
The afternoon light has shifted, coming through the windows at a lower angle now, painting everything in shades of amber and gold. The bookshop is warm, quiet except for the occasionalcustomer browsing the aisles and the soft instrumental music playing through the speakers.
I have a coffee in a to-go cup from the shop's small cafe corner—black with a splash of cream, still hot. I take a sip, letting the bitterness ground me, and open the book to the first page.
The Omega Nest Cafe.
She should write it. Or find someone who can put her vision on paper, make that story real. I'd read it. Buy it in hardcover, the special edition with sprayed edges.
Maybe I could help...
I write. Not well enough to publish, probably, but I understand story structure. Character development. The way romance needs to build slowly, layer by layer, until it's inevitable.
Stop.
You're doing it again.
Building futures in your head with someone you just met.
An Omega who has her own life, dreams, and her own healing to do.
But the thought won't leave me.
I settle deeper into the chair, the book open in my lap, and let myself imagine it. Just for a moment. Just for this quiet afternoon in a bookshop that smells like vanilla and peppermint and possibilities.
An Omega named Reverie. An Alpha named Grayson.
A small town where Christmas magic is real and second chances grow like snowflakes in winter.
It could be a good story.
It could be our story.
I take another sip of coffee and start reading, the words on the page blurring into words in my mind—the story I could write, the life I could live, the future that feels just within reach if I'm brave enough to try.
