Page 166 of Knotting the Firefighters
"I was lonely," the admission emerges quietly, vulnerability evident. "Surrounded by people discussing their pack dynamics, their Alpha partners, their integrated lives—while I existed in relationship limbo with no clear future."
Situationship.
Undefined connection that satisfied no one.
Watching everyone else have what I desperately wanted but couldn't name.
"The gossip became exhausting," I elaborate, memories flooding back with uncomfortable clarity. "People speaking about me rather bluntly—commenting on my lack of pack, speculating about my relationship with Calder, questioning why a successful Fire Chief couldn't secure proper Alpha commitment."
Small-town cruelty.
Masquerading as concern.
Each comment was a paper cut that accumulated into something genuinely painful.
Both Hazel and Sylvie's expressions reflect understanding—empathy born from their own experiences navigating small-town dynamics as independent Omegas.
"Bear mentioned he'd help me reopen," I add, hope creeping into my voice despite attempts at neutral tone. "Suggested operating one or two days weekly rather than a full-time schedule, providing space for the Omega community without consuming all my energy."
Bear.
Always thinking about practical solutions.
Always offering support without making me feel incapable.
"But I wasn't sure," I admit honestly. "Wasn't confident I could handle returning to space that had become associated with loneliness and judgment."
Hazel leans forward, intensity evident in her dark eyes:
"You should absolutely reopen. That kind of space is desperately needed. A place where Omegas can gather without Alpha supervision, discuss topics freely, and build connections that exist independent of pack dynamics."
Independent.
That word again.
The thing we're all fighting to maintain while simultaneously craving connection.
"Plus," Sylvie adds with shy enthusiasm, "it would give us an outlet away from Alphas while still maintaining safety. They'd know where we are, trust the environment, feel comfortable with our independence rather than viewing it as a threat."
Compromise.
Between autonomy and pack security.
Exactly what I need.
"I'll aim to reopen then," I declare, decision crystallizing with their encouragement. "Start small, maybe Thursday evenings and Saturday afternoons, see what kind of community rebuilds."
Wildflower & Wren.
Second chance at sanctuary.
This time with pack support instead of isolation.
Both of them express approval—Hazel with a firm nod, Sylvie with a genuine smile that transforms her usually reserved expression.
Sylvie checks her phone again, wincing at whatever messages have accumulated during our conversation.
"Really do need to go," she apologizes, already gathering her belongings. "Medical emergencies wait for no one, and apprentice doctors require constant intervention."
