Page 34 of Pumpkin Patch Pack
“Actually, I’m not feeling great,” I admit, seizing the excuse. “Might be coming down with something. I should probably rest.”
“Of course. Can I get you anything? Medicine? Soup?”
“No, thank you. I just need to lie down for a while.”
He hesitates, then nods. “If you change your mind, text any of us. And Emma—” he pauses, his eyes holding mine, “don’t push yourself. The work can wait if you’re not well.”
He is so sweet and caring. I hate brushing him off like this.
I nod, already backing toward my cottage. “Thanks. I’ll be fine after some rest.”
Once I’m safely inside and the door is locked, I breathe normally again, but my panic grows.
What if he thinks I’m being totally rude and ungrateful?
What if the online order doesn’t arrive in time?
What if the pharmacy calls the doctor on the prescription and discovers I’ve been refilling it without authorization?
I lie on my bed, arm thrown over my eyes to block the light, intensifying my headache. I thought I’d found the perfect hiding place—a remote farm, a job that kept me busy but not too visible, and people who cared enough to respect my privacy.
A wave of guilt washes over me.
They’ve been nothing but kind since I arrived, and what have I given them in return?
Suspicion. Fear. Distance.
I’ve been so busy protecting myself that I’ve built walls higher than the corn maze, isolating myself from the people who have shown me more kindness than I’ve experienced in months.
A lump forms in my throat. I’ve been so focused on protecting myself from potential threats that I’ve forgotten how to be a person who connects with others.
Someone worth knowing. Worth caring about.
The truth is, I’m afraid because I care. Caring means vulnerability, and vulnerability has only ever led to pain.
But the most terrifying truth is that part I don’t want to run anymore. I want to stay, to see what these fragile connections might mean. To discover if Theo’s easy friendship, Liam’s quiet understanding, and Rowan’s protective presence could become something more.
Yep. I’m totally screwed because I’m developing feelings for not one, but all three men, my suppressants are failing, and my carefully constructed anonymity is threatening to unravel.
The rational part of my brain knows better.
I can never be safe.
Biology is biology.
Instinct is instinct. No matter how kind they seem now.
Would it, though?
Not all alphas are assholes… just the majority of them.
I press my palms against my eyes, willing the pain and doubt away. One day at a time. That’s how I’ve survived so far. Getthrough tomorrow. Wait for the suppressants to arrive. Stay hidden for just a little longer, and then you can reassess.
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