His enthusiasm was infectious, his commentary a constant stream of observations and jokes and random facts he'd apparently stored away for moments exactly like this. He pointed out architectural details on the older buildings, told me about the history of the town, which he'd clearly researched specifically for this trip, and stopped to pet every dog we passed, always asking the owner's permission first with a politeness that made something warm bloom in my chest.
"Oh!" He stopped suddenly in front of the bookstore, his amber eyes going wide, his grip on my arm tightening, his whole body going still with excitement. "This is it. The bookstore I told you about. They have everything, Aster. Like, everything. I looked at their website and they have whole sections on gardening and botany and wildflowers and—" He stopped himself, his cheeks flushing, his voice going sheepish. "Sorry. I'm doing the thing again."
"The thing where you're excited about something that makes me happy?" I tugged him toward the door, my heart doing something complicated at the realization that he'd researched this, that he'd found a bookstore with sections he thought I'd like and planned this whole trip around it. "That's not a bad thing, Kol."
The bookstore was everything he'd promised — cramped and cozy, shelves reaching to the ceiling, the smell of old paper and binding glue thick in the air. A gray cat slept on the counter, barely acknowledging our presence with a flick of its tail. Kol let me wander, following a few steps behind, his presence warm and steady without being intrusive. When I found the gardening section, I lost track of time entirely, pulling out books aboutherbs and vegetables and sustainable farming, my mind already spinning with possibilities.
"Find anything good?" Kol's voice came from somewhere behind me, and I turned to find him watching me with an expression I couldn't quite read — soft and warm and utterly content, his amber eyes gentle.
"Too much." I laughed, gesturing at the stack I'd accumulated, rueful. "I can't afford all of these, but maybe one or two?—"
"Which ones do you want?" He was already moving toward me, his hands reaching for the stack, his amber eyes earnest and determined. "I'll get them for you."
"Kol, no." I pulled the books back slightly, shaking my head. "That's too much. These are expensive and?—"
"I want to." He took the books from my hands, his fingers brushing against mine, his voice going soft and serious, his amber eyes holding mine. "Please, Aster. Let me do this. It's — it's an Alpha thing, okay? Providing for someone I care about. It makes me happy." His cheeks flushed, his eyes dropping to the books in his hands. "You make me happy. Let me return the favor."
I stared at him for a long moment, at this sweet, earnest Alpha who wanted so badly to give me things, to take care of me, to make me smile. The old instincts screamed that I didn't deserve it, that there would be strings attached, that nothing good came without a price. The new part of me — the part that was slowly learning to trust, to accept, to believe — that part reached out and touched his cheek, watching his eyes flutter at the contact.
"Okay." The word came out soft, almost a whisper, something warm unfurling in my chest. "Thank you, Kol." His smile was like watching the sun rise, bright and warm and full ofwonder, and he gathered up every single book I'd touched before heading to the register.
We wandered after that, Kol carrying the bag of books like it weighed nothing, his free hand finding mine and holding on tight. He bought me a bag of lemon drops from a candy shop because I'd mentioned once, weeks ago, that they were my favorite. He found a keychain in a tourist shop — a little metal longhorn with "Texas"engraved on it — and pressed it into my palm with a grin.
"So you always have a piece of home with you." His voice was light, teasing, but his amber eyes were serious, hopeful, searching my face for my reaction. "A piece of us."
I closed my fingers around the keychain, feeling the cool metal warm in my palm, something in my chest going tight and full.
"I love it." The words came out thick with emotion, and his whole face lit up, his scent spiking with joy so bright I could taste it.
Lunch was at a little diner with red vinyl booths and a menu full of comfort food. Kol ordered too much — burgers and fries and onion rings and milkshakes — and insisted on sharing everything, pushing the best bites toward me, his amber eyes tracking every reaction, every smile, every sound of appreciation.
"You're staring." I pointed out, dipping a fry into my milkshake and watching his expression shift from horror to intrigue, his nose wrinkling.
"I'm admiring." He corrected, his cheeks flushing slightly, his voice going soft, his amber eyes warm as they met mine. "There's a difference. Staring is creepy. Admiring is..." He trailed off, his eyes going distant for a moment before refocusing on my face, something raw and vulnerable in his expression. "Admiring iswhat you do when you can't quite believe something beautiful is real."
My breath caught at his words, at the sincerity in his voice, at the way he was looking at me like I was something precious.
"Kol..." I didn't know what to say, didn't have words for the way he made me feel — seen and wanted and cherished in a way I'd never experienced before.
"Sorry." He ducked his head, his cheeks going darker, his voice turning self-deprecating, his shoulders hunching slightly. "Too much again, right? I'm always saying too much, feeling too much, being too much?—"
"No." I reached across the table and grabbed his hand, squeezing hard enough to make him look up, my voice fierce. "You're not too much. You're exactly enough. You're perfectly Kol."
He stared at me, his amber eyes going bright with emotion, his throat working as he swallowed hard, his fingers trembling in mine.
"No one's ever..." He stopped, his voice cracking, and tried again, the words coming out rough and strained. "I've never felt like I was enough for anyone. Not my family, not the packs that turned me away, not anyone. I've always been too loud or too eager or too much." A tear slipped down his cheek, and he swiped at it impatiently, his jaw tightening with frustration. "And then I found Longhorn, and the guys accepted me, and I thought — okay. This is it. This is where I belong. But there was still this part of me that felt like I was just... filling space. Like they kept me around because I was useful, not because I was wanted."
"Kol." My heart ached at his words, at the pain he carried so carefully beneath all that brightness.
"But you..." He looked at me, really looked, his amber eyes raw and vulnerable, his voice dropping to barely above awhisper. "You make me feel wanted. Not for what I can do or what I can give, but just... for being me. For being Kol." His voice cracked on his own name. "I didn't know that was possible."
I stood up from my side of the booth and slid in beside him, not caring about the other diners, not caring about anything except the need to be close to him. I cupped his face in my hands, feeling the dampness of tears on his cheeks, and pressed my forehead to his.
"You are wanted." My voice came out fierce, certain, willing him to believe me. "You are enough. You are exactly right, Kol. And I'm going to keep telling you that until you believe it."
He made a sound — something between a laugh and a sob — and pulled me into his arms, burying his face against my neck, breathing me in like I was oxygen, his whole body trembling.
"I love you." The words came out muffled against my skin, raw and real and utterly vulnerable, spilling out like he couldn't hold them back. "I know it's too soon to say that, and I'm probably scaring you, and I should probably take it back, but I can't. I love you, Aster. I've loved you since the moment you growled at me for coming on too strong."
