I nod.
"Send me the details. If you need my resume or references or whatever, I'll send them over. Though honestly?" She flips her fire-red hair over one shoulder with practiced drama. "My resume is mostly just 'invented drinks that made Starbucks millions' and 'once made a latte so good a man proposed on the spot.'"
"That didn't happen."
"Itcouldhave. My lattes arethatgood."
"You're ridiculous."
"I'miconic," she corrects. "There's a difference."
I laugh, the sound light and free in a way it hasn't been in weeks. "Hell, you're hired. I don't need a resume. I've seen you work miracles with a milk frother and a bad attitude."
"That's my specialty." Ruby grins, pulling me into another hug that smells like wild roses and adventure and the kind of friendship that doesn't fade just because life gets complicated. "Miracles and bad attitudes."
We walk to the door together, and she pauses with her hand on the handle, the morning light catching the gold in her eyes and making them glow like embers.
"I'll keep in touch," she promises. "I'm a text away. And remember, Rosemarie—" Her voice goes serious for a moment, all the playfulness stripped away to reveal the genuine soul beneath the leather and lipstick. "Don't let life chase away your goals and dreams. You deserve the Rio moments. The fireworks. The kisses at midnight. Don't forget that while you're busy making everyone else's coffee perfect."
And there it is. The thing I needed to hear without knowing I needed to hear it.
Before I can respond—before I can do anything embarrassing like cry or hug her again—Ruby pushes through the door with a dramatic flourish, and the cold January air rushes in like a gasp of surprise.
Snow has started falling.
Fat, fluffy flakes drift down from a sky that's gone soft and gray, transforming the small-town street into something from a postcard. They catch in Ruby's fire-red hair like stars, like confetti, like the universe itself is celebrating her presence.
She turns back at the last moment, leather boots already leaving prints in the fresh white dusting on the sidewalk, and throws me one final wave.
"And happy New Year!" she calls out, her voice carrying through the falling snow like a bell.
I lean against the doorframe, watching her walk away—this impossible, wonderful, six-foot-tall firecracker of an omega who just blew into my life and reminded me that I'm allowed to want things. That I'm allowed to dream. That maybe, just maybe, this year could be different.
The snow swirls around me, cold and clean and full of possibility. Inside, the bakery hums with warmth, with the scent of coffee and bread and everything cozy. And somewhere in my chest, beneath the loneliness and the longing and the years of carefully built walls, something small and hopeful stirs awake.
Maybe this is my year. Maybe Rio will come to me instead of the other way around. Maybe I'll find my fireworks, my midnight kiss, my pack that looks at me like I'm their whole world.
Or maybe I'll just make really good coffee and learn to be okay with that too.
Either way—it's a fresh start.
A clean slate.
A new year full of possibilities I haven't even imagined yet.
She smiles as she waves.
“Happy New Year, Ruby.”
CHAPTER 2
Iron Deficiency And Expensive Gummies
~ROSEMARIE~
Twenty-three.
My arms scream at me as I pull myself up, chin clearing the bar by a margin that's more spite than strength at this point. Sweat drips down my spine, collecting in the small of my back, soaking through my workout top until the fabric clings to every ridge and valley of muscle I've spent years building.
