Page 248 of Knot Unwanted: Part One

“Carol,” Finn groans, but he’s smiling—really smiling, the kind that reaches his eyes and makes them crinkle at the corners. “You’re going to ruin my reputation.”

“Honey, that ship sailed the first time you happy-danced over to my peach pie,” she teases, tapping her pencil on her notepad. “The usual drinks for you three?” At their nods, she turns to me. “And for you, dear?”

“Iced tea?” I say, though it comes out more like a question. “With lemon, please?”

“Coming right up. Buffet’s fresh—just switched out most of the trays. You know the drill, boys. Take care of this one, yeah?”

As she walks away, I catch David looking our way again. This time, I’m sure I’m not imagining it. He’s typing something on his phone, his posture too stiff to be casual.

Stone notices my attention shift. “Hailey?”

I’m imagining this, right? I swallow hard. I don’t want to ruin this evening for Finn, or Stone,orJax. But when David’s eyes catch mine again, the words leave my mouth before I can stop them. “He’s watching us,” I murmur, forcing myself to look away. “The host. He keeps…looking.”

Jax’s shoulders tense slightly, but his voice remains calm. “I’ll check it out. Need to wash up anyway.” He slides from the booth smoothly, his movements deliberately casual as he headstoward the restrooms, which would take him past the host’s stand.

“Tell me about Carol,” I say, trying to distract myself. “How long have you known her?”

Finn’s expression softens. “Forever, feels like. She’s been here since before we started coming. Always saves her best desserts for us if we pre-book.” His thumb traces patterns on my palm under the table. “She used to slip me extra portions after my heats, said I was too skinny.”

Finn does a dramatic eye-roll. “Not all of us can be built like brick houses.” But there’s no derision in his words. If anything, he sounds…playful. Like he’s coming back to himself, piece by piece.

Jax returns before I can respond, sliding back into his seat with fluid grace. His expression is neutral, but something in his scent has shifted. “David’s gone,” he says quietly. “Different beta manning the stand now.”

My stomach clenches. “Gone?”

“Might be nothing,” Stone says, but his hand twitches toward his phone. “Might have just been the end of his shift.”

“Middle of dinner rush?” Finn’s voice is skeptical. “That’s not?—”

“Let’s not,” Jax interrupts gently. “Not yet. Let’s just…have dinner. Like we planned. Carol’s bringing your favorite cobbler, Finn.”

It’s a deliberate change of subject, but I feel Finn relax slightly beside me. “Yeah,” he agrees after a moment. “Yeah, okay.” He turns to me, his smile smaller now but still real. “Come on. I’ll show you the good stuff. They hide the best mac and cheese in the back corner.”

We make our way to the buffet, and for a while, I let myself get lost in it—in Finn’s running commentary on each dish, in the way he piles his plate high with all his favorites, in how Stone rolls his eyes fondly when Finn adds a third dinner roll. It feels…normal. Safe.

But I can’t quite shake the feeling of being watched, even though I can’t see anyone suspicious. Maybe it’s just paranoia, like Finn said. Maybe I’m seeing threats where there aren’t any.

Or maybe…

“You’re thinking too loud,” Finn murmurs as we return to our seats. “Try the mac and cheese. It’ll help.”

I do, and he’s right—it’s creamy and perfect, the kind of comfort food that makes everything else fade away for a moment. Around us, the restaurant buzzes with normal dinner conversation. Someone laughs somewhere. Silverware clinks against plates. Everything is fine.

But when Carol brings our drinks, there’s something tight around her eyes.

“Everything okay?” Stone asks, catching it too.

She hesitates, just for a second. “Of course, honey. Just…busy night.” But her eyes dart to the front of the restaurant, where the new host stands stiffly, looking anywhere but at us.

I take another bite of mac and cheese, but it tastes like ash now. Under the table, Finn’s hand finds mine again, and I know he feels it too—the slow creep of unease, the sense that something isn’t quite right.

But then Finn starts telling stories—little moments from their past visits here. About the time Ren accidentally knocked over an entire tray of desserts trying to impress Finn from across the room. About Stone’s failed attempt to recreate Carol’s famous cobbler at home, which ended with the fire alarm going off and three very annoyed alphas covered in flour. Each story draws reluctant smiles from the others, and gradually, the tension begins to ease.

I find myself relaxing, drawn into their shared history. When Carol brings out a fresh batch of rolls, still warm from the oven, Finn’s eyes light up like a kid at Christmas.

“See?” he says, breaking one open so steam curls up between us. “Worth the trip just for these.”

Stone shakes his head fondly. “You and your carbs.”

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