Page 116 of Knot Unwanted: Part One

“They were artistic!”

“They were an assault on my retinas!”

I watch them bicker, something warm unfurling in my chest. This is what I’d glimpsed before—this easy back-and-forth, this gentle teasing layered over deep affection. This is what a home feels like.

The realization should terrify me. I shouldn’t want this, shouldn’t let myself hope for it. But sitting here, watching Stone throw a fortune cookie at Ren’s head while Jax pretends not to notice and Finn quietly sneaks the last spring roll onto my plate, I can’t help it.

I want this. Not just the roof over my head or the food on the table, but this—the laughter, the stories, the way they look at each other when they think no one’s watching. The way they’re trying so hard to include me in their orbit without pushing too hard.

Stone pushes a large bowl of berries close to me and as they continue speaking, I pick off one, then another, and another until I’ve devoured an entire vine. I stare at the berries in horror. When no one seems to notice, or if they do, they don’t seem to care, I try to force down my rising terror.

“S-so w-what color did you end up p-painting the kitchen?” I ask softly, and the bright smile Finn gives me makes my heart skip.

“A very sensible beige,” Jax answers, but his eyes aretwinkling. “Though someone—” he looks pointedly at Ren “—added glow-in-the-dark stars to the ceiling when we weren’t looking.”

“They’re constellations,” Ren’s grin is lopsided, and for the first time I see something other than the cold alpha I’d been seeing all along. He’s devastatingly handsome when he’s not glaring at me. “They’re educational.”

“They’re the Hogwarts house symbols,” Stone counters.

“Like I said. Educational.”

Chapter 31

Hailey

The nest is too soft.

That’s what I keep telling myself as I lie here, staring up at shadows dancing across the ceiling. It’s too soft, too warm, too saturated with their mingled scents. That’s why I can’t sleep. Not because I can hear the gentle splash of water from the bathroom, or the quiet humming that occasionally drifts through the wall.

I shift again, pulling Finn’s borrowed shirt down over my bare thighs. The fabric is impossibly soft, carrying his scent so strongly it makes my head spin. Or maybe that’s just from dinner—from more food than I’ve eaten in months, from laughter I hadn’t known I was capable of anymore.

The memory of Stone’s face when that dumpling hit him makes my lips twitch, even now. The way Ren’s icy exterior had cracked, revealing something warmer underneath. How Jax kept sneaking more food onto both my plate and Finn’s, like he was trying to make up for something.

A particularly loud splash from the bathroom makes me tense. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying not to picture Finn in there. Trying not to remember how his body felt pressed against mine just hoursago, or the desperate way he’d kissed me. The way his hands had?—

No. Don’t think about that.

I roll onto my side, curling into myself. The blankets shift with me, releasing fresh waves of their combined scents. It’s…confusing. Everything about this is confusing. The alphas letting me stay in their nest. Finn’s hot-and-cold behavior since the bath. The way dinner had felt almost like…

Like family.

The thought makes each breath coming through my lungs feel pressured. I shouldn’t want that. Shouldn’t let myself hope for anything beyond basic safety. But the way they’d laughed together, shared stories, included me in their gentle teasing…

I almost felt…normal.

The bathroom door clicks open.

I go very still, listening to Finn’s soft footsteps on the rug. He pauses—probably checking if I’m asleep—before padding closer. The bed dips as he settles on the far edge, carefully maintaining distance between us.

“I know you’re awake,” he says softly. “Your breathing changes when you actually sleep.”

Heat floods my cheeks. “How do you know that?”

“You fell asleep on me earlier. During the movie.”

Oh. Right. I’d tried so hard to stay awake during whatever film he’d put on after dinner, but the combination of warm food and emotional exhaustion had pulled me under. I remember drifting off to the sound of his heartbeat, my head somehow having found its way to his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I keep falling asleep?—”

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