As we walk along Harbor Street, our pace slows and, accompanied by the gentle tap of Grady’s cane on the boardwalk, he regales me with stories of his time in university with the Wright Pack Omega and his accident on the island.
The morning sun warms my back while vendors call out their wares, their voices mixing with the cries of gulls wheeling overhead. I adjust my grip on Grady’s grocery bags, matching my stride to his shorter steps.
“I don’t mean to slow you down,” Grady says, pausing to catch his breath near a flower stall. “The leg’s giving me hell today.”
“No rush.” I inhale the sweet scent of fresh-cut peonies. “I don’t have anything else to do today.”
A vendor holds out a bunch of lavender toGrady. He leans forward to breathe in the fragrance before he shakes his head in polite refusal.
We move on, weaving between clusters of tourists and locals.
“About what you said earlier,” I begin, the words catching in my throat. “About being misjudged.”
Grady glances up at me with curiosity.
“I’ve spent my whole life with people telling me I can’t possibly be an Omega.” The admission comes easier than expected. “Too tall. Too broad. Wrong build, wrong demeanor, wrong everything.”
A couple moves around us, and the woman’s eyes linger on my frame, followed by confusion when she catches my scent, and it contradicts her visual judgment.
“Alphas either dismiss me or approach me like I’m a conquest,” I continue. “Proof they can ‘make a big Omega submit’ or whatever fantasy they’ve concocted.”
Grady’s expression turns thoughtful. “People love their neat categories. When someone doesn’t fit, they try to force them into one, regardless.”
We stop at a produce stall where pyramids of apples glow red and green in the sunlight. Grady tests the firmness of a Honeycrisp with his thumb.
“I moved here for a fresh start,” I admit. “Quinnneeded a tutor, and I needed to get away from an Alpha who wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
“And yet, here you are, giving Jared the benefit of the doubt.” Grady selects an apple, handing the vendor two dollars before adding it to the bag I carry. “Not many would, after your experiences.”
The observation catches me off guard. “I wasn’t at first. I saw the video this morning and assumed the worst.”
“But you changed your mind when you heard the full story.” He moves us forward. “That matters.”
We continue past stalls selling homemade jams, fresh bread, and local honey, the mingled scents creating an invisible thread we follow through the market.
My stomach growls, reminding me that I rushed out without breakfast.
“I’ve been feeling guilty,” Grady says suddenly, breaking our comfortable silence. “About overstaying my welcome on the island. I’ve been looking at apartments in Pinecrest, and wanted to check out the neighborhood.”
Grady gestures with his free hand toward a real estate office across the street. Its window displays photos of waterfront condos and forest cottages.
“It must be the season of needing a change.”
“That sounds like more than just moving location,” I say.
His lips purse in thought. “I’ve spent six years as Aurora Storm’s agent. I’m not sure what I’m doing with my life anymore, but staying in my old place, with all the links to that life, doesn’t fit anymore. Besides, all my doctors are in Pinecrest.”
The name takes a moment to register. “Wait—Aurora Storm, the fantasy author? You were her agent?”
“Still am, technically, though she handles most of her business herself now.” Pride and loss mingle in his voice. “She’s Chloe Wright these days. Married into the pack that owns Misty Pines.”
We stop at a honey vendor, where Grady examines tiny jars of wildflower honey, holding them up to the light to see the color.
“I left public education for similar reasons,” I tell him, surprised by my own openness. “Burnt out by bureaucracy, drowning in paperwork instead of focusing on teaching.”
“Yet you still tutor Quinn.” He selects a jar, adding it to our collection.
“The teaching itch never goes away.” I smile, thinking of my bright-eyed student. “Quinn reminds me of why I loved it in the first place. I live for that moment when understanding clicks. Youcan see it in their eyes and the pride in their posture.”