Grady raises an eyebrow. “Staying to prove a point?”
“Not exactly.” I roll the mug between my palms. “Do you know why I came to Misty Pines? Did Kyle tell you?”
Grady shakes his head. “Only that you wanted a change of pace. Somewhere quiet.”
A humorless laugh escapes me. “That’s one way to put it.”
I stare into the fire, tracing the outlines of flame. “I knew I was defective almost as soon as I understood what being an Alpha was supposed to mean. The other kids hit adolescence and started reacting to everything. Each other’s pheromones, the way an Omega’s scent could shift a whole room, just everything. They moved through life reacting to all these hidden signals that went right over my head.”
I rub the back of my neck, embarrassed by how small that sounds out loud. “They talked about it all the time, about how intense it was, how overwhelming. I laughed along, pretending Iunderstood. But I couldn’t smell what they smelled. Couldn’t feel what they felt. It was like the world had a language everyone else was fluent in, and I was the only one born without the sense to hear it. My parents tried to pretend I was a late bloomer.”
Grady doesn’t interrupt as he lifts his mug and takes a sip of coffee.
“When it became obvious my scent-blindness wasn’t going to change, my family did what they always do when things become uncomfortable. They ignored it. I kept my head down, focused on school. Got into aquatic engineering and spent every waking hour in the lab or on the docks. As long as I was useful, I had a place.”
The fire pops, sending a small shower of sparks up the flue. I glance toward it before continuing.
“They let me stay through my degree. Said it was only right since I was helping with the pack’s marina contracts. But once graduation hit, things shifted. They were bringing in an Omega, someone scent-matched to my older brother, and suddenly I was… inconvenient.”
Grady’s expression softens, but he doesn’t say anything, for which I’m grateful.
“They didn’t say it outright. They never do. Just hinted it might confuse the new Omega, having a ‘broken Alpha’ around. Said I’d be happier somewhere I could start over, build my own future.” I let out a breath. “So I left. Told everyone I’d found a good job opportunity, packed a bag, and didn’t look back.”
The silence that follows is thick with rain and firelight. Outside, the storm has softened to a steady drizzle, the sound of it whispering on the roof.
Grady leans forward. “You don’t strike me as broken.”
“That’s because you haven’t seen what happens when people realize I don’t react the way a real Alpha does. They catch on eventually, the lack of response, the way I don’t pick up on their cues. They can’t explain it, but they sense it. Like a missing note in a chord.” My throat tightens. “Emily was the first person who didn’t treat it as a defect. And now I’ve managed to screw even that up.”
Grady studies me for a long moment before speaking. “Maybe what’s broken isn’t you, but the mold people keep trying to fit you into.”
His words hit harder than I expect, and I stare down at my hands. “If that’s true, then why does it still hurt so much to not fit?”
“Because you were taught that belongingrequires being the same as everyone else,” he says softly. “But life doesn’t work that way. The people worth keeping won’t need you to prove yourself first.”
“Sure,” I say, not believing it but wanting to.
“And don’t think you’ve messed anything up,” he continues. “I won’t pretend to know what’s happening between you and Emily, but she strikes me as a good person.”
My spine snaps straight. “She’s the best.”
“I think so, too.” He shifts his weight, as if struggling to find a comfortable position. “The article might help, too. Give people room to reconsider without losing face.”
“Whether it works or not, I still appreciate that you wrote it.” I drain the last of my coffee and stand. “I should let you rest. With the storm easing, Kyle might be on his way back by now, and if I want to reach Pinecrest tonight, I need to catch him before he shuts down.”
Grady rubs his knee and grimaces. “Forgive me if I don’t walk you to the door.”
“No need to be sorry.” I wash my mug and set it in the drying rack, then fetch his cane, setting it within reach.
Grady gives me a grateful smile.
“Thank you again.” I shrug on my damp jacket,the fabric carrying traces of wood smoke and rain. “For the coffee. For… everything.”
“Anytime,” he replies. “Get some rest tonight. The world doesn’t change in a day.”
“Yeah. I’ll try.”
When I step outside, the storm has quieted to a fine mist, but the cold cuts sharper now that the warmth is behind me. The cabin’s light spills across the porch, reaching only a few feet before fading into the wet gloom.