Page 64 of Forget-Me-Nots and Apricots

The way he said "us"—like I was already included in their circle, their pack—sent an unexpected flutter through my chest. I took another sip of coffee to hide whatever might be showing on my face.

The moment stretched between us, a thread of understanding that felt both tenuous and unbreakable. I cleared my throat, breaking the silence. "I should get to the greenhouse. I want to make sure everything's organized."

"I'll walk with you," Gabriel offered, picking up his mug. "I want to make sure the temperature controls are working properly."

"I can check that myself," I said, perhaps too quickly. His nearness felt both comforting and dangerous this morning, especially after falling asleep against him last night.

"I know you can," Gabriel replied, his voice calm. "But the system can be temperamental. It hasn't been used regularly in years."

I nodded, unable to argue with his logic. "Alright."

As we left the kitchen, I felt Dakota's eyes following us, his expression unreadable. Theo remained absorbed in his tablet, but I could sense his attention shift briefly as we passed, a flicker of awareness that made me wonder what silent communication was passing between the Alphas.

I could sense his attention shift briefly as we passed, a flicker of awareness that made me wonder what silent communication was passing between the Alphas.

Gabriel and I walked in comfortable silence down the hallway, the morning light casting long shadows across the polished wood floors. I was acutely aware of him beside me—his steady presence, the subtle heat radiating from his body, the clean scent of his skin mingling with the deeper notes of his Alpha pheromones. It was distracting in a way I wasn't prepared to acknowledge.

When we reached the back door leading to the garden, Gabriel paused, his hand on the doorknob. "Did you sleep at all?" he asked quietly, his eyes searching my face.

I considered deflecting, but something in his expression made me answer honestly. "Not well. Dreams."

He nodded, understanding without needing details. "Your scent is... unsettled this morning."

I looked away, unable to hold his gaze. "Is that your way of saying I smell bad?"

"No," Gabriel said, his voice softening. "Just different. Stressed. Worried." He paused, then added, "You don't have to put on a brave face for us, Vivian. Not after everything you've been through."

Something in his words—the gentle understanding, perhaps, or the permission to be vulnerable—made my throat tighten unexpectedly. I swallowed hard, fighting back the sudden pressure behind my eyes.

"I'm fine," I said automatically, the words sounding hollow even to my own ears. "Just need to get to work. That will help."

Gabriel didn’t press me further, just inclined his head slightly and opened the door. Cool morning air rushed in, scented with dew and fresh earth. I stepped out first and Gabriel followed, keeping pace a step behind as we moved down the walkway. He didn’t speak, but I could feel the weight of his gaze as I reached for the door and pushed it open. Warmth met us immediately, the temperature already rising inside from the early sun and the heating systems humming to life.

I paused just inside, breathing in the scent of damp soil, green things, and metal—irrigation lines and aging copper trays. The space was pristine. Organized. Everything where I would’ve put it myself.

The counters were cleared, trays stacked by size, tools hung on newly installed hooks along the far wall. Even the flower buckets had been scrubbed and sorted by height. I crossed to the center table, fingers brushing over the polished wood. A deep tension I hadn’t realized I was holding started to unwind in my chest.

“You weren’t exaggerating,” I murmured. “Everything really is in order.”

Gabriel stepped up beside me, hands in his pockets as he surveyed the space. “Let me know if anything’s missing or not functioning. We’ll get it fixed.”

The we caught in my ears again. Steady, unquestioning. As if there had never been an option where I was doing this alone. I opened one of the drawers. Clean shears. Fresh ribbons. Even extra gloves. It felt… too much.Too considerate.

“You didn’t have to go this far,” I said, quieter now. “Really.”

Gabriel glanced at me, his expression unreadable. “You’ve got deadlines. Stress compromises focus. This setup saves you time.”

Of course. Practical. Efficient. All business.

But still.

I nodded slowly, brushing a strand of hair back behind my ear again, more to keep my hands busy than anything else. “Then... thank you. For the efficiency.”

He gave a short nod, then crossed to the panel near the door. He tapped a few buttons, adjusting the thermostat and checking the sensors. “Temperature’s stable. Humidity is climbing but within acceptable range.”

I moved to the far end of the greenhouse where the delivery buckets would be staged. The space was clean, ready for flowers I hadn’t even seen yet. The work would be intense, fast-paced. Perfect. I needed it.

Gabriel’s voice cut softly through the quiet. “Let us know if you need coverage inside today. You’ve been pushing hard.”

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