Page 154 of Knot Unwanted: Part Two

I look up, abandoning the stubborn roots to accept the offered drink. “These roses have thorns sharper than claws.”

Finn laughs, surveying the expanded garden plot with obvious curiosity. “What are you doing out here? I thought this section was just grass.”

“It was.” I set the empty glass aside, then reach up to pull him down onto my lap. “Now it’s going to be an herb garden. For your cooking.”

“For me?” His eyes widen as he settles against my chest. He stares at me, then at the dirt expanse that currently shows none of these promised features. “You’re building me a bigger garden? Why?”

The question seems genuinely puzzled, as if he can’t quite grasp why I’d undertake such a project specifically for him. It reminds me, with a pang, how long our bond was damaged, how many years he lived with the uncertainty of his place in our pack.

“Because you love cooking. Because fresh ingredients make you happy. Because the kitchen window overlooks this spot, and I thought you might enjoy seeing it grow while you work.” I pause, then add the simplest truth. “Because I failed you before and…because I want to give you things that matter to you.”

Something shifts in his expression—surprise giving way to a softer emotion, a vulnerability he still guards carefully despite our healing. “Stone…”

“I’ve mapped it all out,” I continue, reaching for the weatherproof notebook tucked beneath my tools. “If you don’t like the arrangement, we can adjust it. Nothing’s planted yet except these roses, which will line the path here.”

I open the notebook to show him the detailed plans I’ve drawn. Finn studies the pages with growing wonder, his fingers tracing the neat labels and annotations.

“When did you have time to plan all this?”

“Evenings, mostly,” I reply, brushing some dirt from my hands. “I wanted to surprise you. You deserve something beautiful.”

Finn’s eyes soften, his lips parting slightly as if he wants to say something but can’t quite find the words. Instead, he leans closer, his fingers brushing over the edge of my jaw.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice so quiet I almost don’t hear it.

“Finn…”

He tips his head up, his nose brushing mine. I’m frozen, the tension between us electric. When his lips press against mine, soft and tentative, I feel myself dissolve. It’s not the playful Finn I’m used to—it’s something deeper, something raw and open.

“You never stopped loving me, did you?” he asks finally, his voice softened with wonder. “Not even when the bond broke.”

The question—so direct, so unexpectedly vulnerable—hits me square in the chest, leaving me momentarily breathless.

“Never.” I push past the lump in my throat. “Not for a single moment.”

He nods slowly, as if confirming something. Then, abruptly, his solemn expression shifts to a mischievous grin. “Good. Because Hailey picked a horror movie for tonight, and I wholeheartedly supported her choice.”

The conversational whiplash leaves me blinking in confusion. “What?”

Before I can process the sudden change in topic, Finn uses my momentary distraction to his advantage. With a quick twist of his body and well-placed hands against my chest, he shoves me backward. Caught off-guard, I pitch backward, arms instinctively releasing him to break my fall. I land flat on my back in the freshly turned soil while Finn manages to save himself, balancing nimbly on the balls of his feet at the edge of the garden plot.

His laughter is bright, unreserved, and almost childlike in its pure delight. It fills the spring air as he takes in my comical appearance, sprawled in the dirt.

“You should see your face!” he gasps between peals of laughter, doubling over with the force of his mirth.

I should be annoyed. The practical part of me notes the hours of work potentially disrupted, the shower I’ll need before I can continue, the dirt now covering my back and hair. But Finn’s laughter, so free, so unguarded, disarms any irritation before it can form. Instead, I find myself smiling, then chuckling, then joining him in genuine laughter. I can’t remember the last time I heard Finn laugh like this—uninhibited, without the shadow of what he endured hanging over him. That sound alone is worth every bit of dirt down my back, every thorn that’s drawn blood from my hands today.

“You realize this means war,” I warn him, making no move to rise from my undignified position.

Finn’s eyes widen with mock fear. “Oh no, the dirt monster is threatening revenge. Whatever shall I do?” He takes a deliberate step backward, clearly preparing to flee.

“Run, little omega,” I growl playfully. “It just makes the chase more satisfying.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice, sprinting across the grass toward the house with another burst of laughter trailing behind him. I remain where I am for a moment longer, looking up atthe blue sky overhead, feeling the cool earth beneath me and the warm sun on my skin. Feeling, most of all, the lightness in my chest that comes from seeing Finn so genuinely happy, so unburdened by the weight of...well…everything.

Eventually, I rise and survey the damage to the garden plot—minimal, thankfully, though I’ll need to re-level some areas before continuing. It can wait until tomorrow. For now, I gather my tools and the stubborn rose bushes, securing them for later planting before heading inside to shower.

Clean and dressed in fresh clothes, I head downstairs to find preparations for movie night already underway. Jax and Ren are rearranging the living room furniture, pushing the couch and chairs back to create space for the nest of blankets and pillows Hailey and Finn have brought down. Hailey directs their efforts with cheerful authority, clearly excited about her selected film.

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