Page 191 of Knot Unwanted: Part One

“Come on,” Finn says gently, patting the space beside him.

I hesitate, but the quiet anticipation in Stone’s expression pulls me forward. I settle onto the floor, folding my legs beneath me, and reach out hesitantly toward the pile of shirts. Just touching the first shirt sends a delicious shiver through me that I hope neither of them notices.

Finn takes the lead, weaving the first shirt into the corner of the nest, tucking it carefully into the blankets and smoothing it out with practiced ease. Stone watches him for a moment, his brows furrowing slightly in concentration, and then he picks up a shirt of his own.

His hands are big, broad and strong, but the way he handles the fabric is almost reverent. He folds the shirt in half, running his fingers over the seams to flatten them, before nestling it into the side of the nest. He takes his time, as though he’s trying to make sure everything fits just right.

I watch him out of the corner of my eye, fascinated. Stone is so big, his presence filling the room, but he handles the shirts like they’re something fragile, something that deserves his full attention. His jaw is tight, his brows furrowed, and every so often, I catch the way his chest rises and falls in deep, controlled breaths, like he’s holding something back.

Finn notices too. “You’re really into this,” he teases softly, his voice light. And then his eyes cloud over, like a shadow settles there. “Just like you used to be.”

Stone’s head snaps up. The change in his expression is so immediate, so tender, it makes my breath catch. He sets aside the fabric in his hand, his movements deliberate, and then reaches out to gently cup Finn’s face. His thumb strokes Finn’s cheekbone, a tender gesture that sends warmth curling in the pit of my belly.

“Hey,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough with emotion. “Some things never change. Some things are…always there.” His eyes darken as he leans closer to Finn. “Like how much I love taking care of you, Finn.”

My heart stutters as I watch him press a soft kiss to Finn’s forehead. “Always have. Always will.”

Finn closes his eyes, leaning into the touch, a small sigh escaping his lips. And I see something shift in him. The shadow that had settled over him seems to lift, just a little, and a faint pink creeps up the back of his neck.

There’s something between them. Something deep and raw and unspoken.

Stone clears his throat, shifting back toward the pile of shirts. His voice is quieter now, but there’s a noticeable edge to it, like he’s trying to regain control. “This one here should be right.”

Finn doesn’t say anything, but I see the way his fingers brush over the fabric Stone hands him, lingering just a little longer than necessary.

We keep working, each of us adding a piece to the nest, and the scent begins to shift around us. Stone’s musk blends into the space slowly, layering over Finn’s lighter tones and weaving into the blankets like it belongs there. It’s rich and grounding, warm in a way that feels almost protective, and I find myself leaning a little closer to the nest without meaning to.

But my focus isn’t on the nest anymore.

It’s on Finn.

He doesn’t see it, not yet, but I do.

The way Stone looks at him, the way he touched him—it was so careful, so controlled, like he was handling something fragileand precious. And Finn let him. For all his pain, for all the walls he’s built around himself, he leaned into Stone’s touch. He let himself be cared for, even if just for a moment.

There’s love there.

It’s not gone.

It’s been buried under guilt and hurt and time, but as I sit here, watching them, I realize it’s not broken. Not really.

And the first piece clicks into place.

Finn thinks he’s already lost everything. He thinks leaving is the only way to find peace. But he’s wrong.

Stone still loves him. And maybe just maybe, Finn still loves Stone too.

I swallow hard, my fingers curling into one of the shirts in my lap. The ache in my chest is still there, but now, it’s joined by something else. A flicker of hope.

Because maybe I can’t fix this on my own. But I can try.

I glance between them, my heart pounding in my chest. If Finn can’t see it yet, then I’ll just have to show him.

The thought feels like a quiet promise, grounding me even as the weight of everything presses down. My fingers tighten around the shirt in my lap, the fabric soft and warm against my skin. It smells like Stone—rich and earthy, grounding and steady. And as the scent rises, curling around me like smoke, something inside me stirs.

It’s subtle at first, just an awareness of the heat simmering under my skin. But then it grows, spreading like a slow burn through my belly and thighs. I shift slightly, the ache in my body making itself known again, and I press the shirt to my face without thinking.

The moment his scent fully hits me, something unravels.

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