Page 87 of Knot Unwanted: Part One

It’s not natural, this easy companionship between them. Every instinct I have, everything I know about omega dynamics, says they should be circling each other warily at best, hostile at worst. Omegas are territorial, protective of their alphas, their space, their position in the hierarchy. But Finn…Finn’s acting like he’s found a long-lost sibling rather than a potential threat.

It’s exactly the opposite reaction I thought he would have. And now, that bitter taste of guilt lingering at the back of my throat increases at the thought that all along, instead of hiding Hailey in that cabin and trying to figure things out on my own, I could havebrought her here, to the house, and we could have all done this together.

“I can’t just sit here,” Ren growls, resuming his pacing with renewed intensity. “This is ridiculous. We should be in there. We should be?—”

“What?” Jax’s voice is sharp. “Forcing our way in? Scaring her more? Making Finn…”

He doesn’t finish, but we all hear it: Making Finn pull away from us completely.

Because that’s the fear, isn’t it? That we’ve already damaged something precious. That our omega—our bright, fierce, loving Finn—has been pulling away for months because ofus. And now this strange, broken omega appears and suddenly he’s laughing again, but not with us. Never with us anymore.

A clatter from the kitchen makes us all jerk toward the sound. A dropped utensil, nothing more, but the spike of protective instinct is immediate and overwhelming.

“Oops!” Finn’s voice, still light. “Don’t worry about it. Should’ve warned you that pan was hot.”

“I’m sorry, I—” Her voice trembles slightly.

“Hey, no. None of that. Look, not even a mark. And this just means I get to show you my signature flip again. Watch this time—it’s all in the wrist.”

How can he do that? Pretend he doesn’t know we’re out here, being ripped apart? My heart clenches. I don’t blame him—can’t blame him, not after everything. But a thought I don’t want to consider rises in my mind: that maybe the distance between us and our omega runs deeper than I realized. This easy affection he’s showing her, this lightness in his voice—it’s like looking through a window into what we used to have, what we’ve lost somewhere along the way.

Their exchange draws me to my feet before I realize I’m moving. Three steps bring me to the kitchen doorway, though I’mcareful to stay just out of sight. Jax makes a warning sound, but I hear him rise, too. Even he can’t resist the pull anymore.

From this angle, I can just see them through the doorway. Finn stands at the stove, his body angled protectively toward the smaller omega. She’s pressed against the counter, shoulders hunched, but her eyes…God, her eyes are fixed on Finn like he’s the sun itself.

Just like that first night in the cabin, when she’d looked at me with such desperate hope before terror took over. Before I’d failed her by leaving her there. By not explaining. By…

“Stone.” Jax’s warning is barely a breath, but I realize I’ve moved closer to the doorway. I have to force myself to step back.

“Did you know,” Finn’s voice carries clearly now, “that grilled cheese doesn’t actually exist in most other countries? At least not like this. They’ve got cheese toasties and melts, butthis?” A dramatic gesture I can’t quite see. “This is pure American comfort food at its finest.”

A soft sound that might be a giggle. “Is that why you like it so much?”

“Caught me.” Finn’s laugh holds such warmth. “Though usually it’s just for myself when…” He trails off, and that pain in the center of my chest grows deeper. What was he going to say? When what? When we’re not there? When he’s alone?

“When you need comfort?” Her voice is so soft I almost miss it.

A pause. “Yeah.” Finn’s tone has changed, grown serious. “Sometimes you just need something that feels like…like home, you know?”

The silence that follows feels heavy with meaning. I lean against the wall, closing my eyes against the ache in my chest. When did our home stop feeling like home to him?

“I…” Her voice wavers. “I don’t know what that feels like.”

My eyes snap open, meeting Jax’s across the hall. The pain in his expression mirrors what I’m feeling. Even Ren has gone still, his usual anger replaced by something raw and wounded.

“Well,” Finn says, and there’s a fierce protectiveness in hisvoice that makes my instincts heighten, “maybe it’s time you found out.”

I have to move. Have to walk. Have to do something besides stand here listening to our omega offer another omega the safety and comfort we should be providing. And yet, I can’t leave.

The smell of melting cheese and butter fills the air as I lean against the wall, unable to move away. Jax and Ren have given up any pretense of returning to the sitting room, both now hovering silently in the hallway with me. None of us speak. We just listen.

“These are done perfectly,” Finn’s saying. There’s the sound of a spatula scraping against the pan, then plates being moved. “Here, these three are for you.”

A pause. Then, so very quietly I almost miss it: “All…all of them?”

“Of course.” Finn’s voice is casual, but there’s an undercurrent of something else. Something that makes that pain in my chest increase even more. “You haven’t eaten since yesterday.”

“But…” Her voice trembles slightly. “That’s…that’s too much. I shouldn’t—I mean, I don’t want to be greedy.”

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