Page 118 of Knot Unwanted: Part One

His scent changes—something bitter threading through the usual sage and rain. “I guess they’re trying. To be better.”

“Better than what?”

“Than they were.” He sighs again. “Than what happened before.”

I want to ask what he means, but something in his tone warns me not to push. Instead, I find myself saying, “They love you very much.”

He inhales then exhales so deeply that it makes his chest swell high then deflate.

“I saw it. At dinner. The way they looked at you when they didn’t know I was watching.”

“Hailey…”

“The way they tried so hard to make you smile. To make things feel normal, even with me there disrupting everything.”

“You’re not?—”

“And I know I shouldn’t want to stay.” Oh God, I shouldn’t admit this. Because Ican’tstay. I’ll have to leave one day. Probably soon. I swallow hard, pushing on. “I know I’m intruding on something private and precious. But dinner was…”

“It was what?” His voice is barely a whisper.

“It was nice.” The admission burns my throat. “Made me feel like maybe…”

“Maybe what?”

I squeeze my eyes shut. “Maybe I could belong somewhere.” I hurry on, not wanting to make him feel threatened. “Not here. I know I don’t belong here, but maybe somewhere out there.”

The silence that follows is deafening. I want to take the words back, stuff them deep inside where they can’t hurt anyone. But then I feel Finn’s hand brush mine.

“You have no idea how much you already belong here.” His fingers trace my knuckles. “And how I don’t.”

For a split second, his words don’t register. Because they don’t make sense.

“Finn—What?”

“I mean it.” His touch becomes more certain, thumb stroking over my palm. “They meant what they said about you staying. And I…I want you to stay.”

My heart thuds painfully. “Even after I kissed you? After I made everything complicated?”

His hand stills. “You didn’t make anything complicated. Things were already complicated. You just…” He makes a frustrated sound. “You make me feel things I thought I couldn’t feel anymore. Make them feel things they’re afraid to acknowledge.”

“What kind of things?”

Instead of answering, he brings my hand to his face. I feel his breath ghost across my palm, then the press of his lips—soft, barely there.

“Finn?” I whisper, and this time his name comes out like a plea.

“I know.” He releases my hand slowly. “I know we shouldn’t. I know it’s too soon and too much and too dangerous. But…”

“But?”

A quiet laugh. “But I can’t seem to help myself around you.”

The admission hangs between us, heavy with possibility. With warning. With something that feels too big to name.

From downstairs, a door closes. Footsteps on the stairs—multiple sets. Both of us tense, listening as they pass the nest room. They pause, just for a moment, and I catch the faint trace of their scents—Stone’s pine musk, Ren’s sandalwood, Jax’s cedar.

“They’re giving us space,” Finn murmurs once their footsteps continue down the hall. “They won’t…they won’t sleep in here.”

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