Page 94 of Knot Unwanted: Part Two

“We will,” Jax promises.

Ren just nods, but his gaze holds more weight than any words could.

I exhale, some of the tension leaving my shoulders. It’s not everything. It’s not fixed. But it’s a beginning.

“I need to get this up to Hailey,” I say, gesturing to the tray of food. “She’ll be waking up soon.”

Ren steps forward. “Let me help.”

I hesitate, then nod. Together, we arrange the last items on the tray—the eggs, some toast, a glass of coconut water. It feels normal. Domestic. Like maybe, just maybe, we can build something new from the ashes of what we were.

As we turn to head upstairs, Jax calls my name.

“Finn.”

I look back.

“Thank you,” he says simply. “For not giving up on us. For bringing her into our lives. For everything.”

The words catch me off guard. Jax isn’t one for flowery statements or emotional declarations. This is as close to wearing his heart on his sleeve as he gets.

“Don’t make me regret it,” I tell him, but there’s no real heat in my voice.

He smiles, a rare genuine one that transforms his face. “We won’t.”

I nod, then follow Ren up the stairs, the tray balanced carefully between us. The scent of heat grows stronger as weapproach the bedroom, but it’s different now—mellower, more honeyed than sharp.

In the doorway, Ren pauses. “Finn?”

“Yeah?”

He doesn’t look at me, his gaze fixed on some point in the distance. “When I thought I might die in that facility…I…I kept thinking about the things I never said. To all of you. But especially to you.”

My throat tightens. “You don’t have to?—”

“I do,” he interrupts. “I’ve been a coward. For years. Too afraid to face what I did to you. Too afraid to admit that I needed you—all of you—just as much as you needed me.”

He turns to me then, his expression raw with emotion. “I’m sorry, Finn. Not just for the accident. For everything that came after. For pushing you away when you needed me most.”

I swallow hard, unprepared for the rush of emotion his words unleash. “I missed you,” I admit. “Even when you were right there, I missed you.”

“I know.” His voice is rough. “I missed you, too.”

The simple honesty of it hits harder than any elaborate apology could.

“I forgive you,” I tell him again. “I forgave you a long time ago. But I couldn’t forgive you for leaving me. For shutting me out.”

“I know.” He shifts the tray, balancing it with one hand so he can reach out with the other. His fingers brush my cheek, tentative, as if he’s not sure he’s still allowed to touch me this way. “Can you forgive me for that, too? Not now, maybe. But someday?”

I lean into his touch, something inside me easing at the familiar contact. “I’m working on it.”

His smile is small but real. “That’s more than I deserve.”

“No,” I correct him. “It’s exactly what you deserve. A second chance.”

He breathes out, lips curling into a tentative smile before it suddenly disappears. “Finn…”

“Mm?” I lean into his hand.

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