Page 116 of Knot on the Market

Sadie flushes slightly but manages a smile. "Hi, Caleb. Welcome back."

"I remember when you used to follow Dean and me around during summers," he continues, his serious expression softening with memory. "You couldn't have been more than eight or nine, always trying to keep up with whatever ridiculous adventure we were planning."

"I was ten," she corrects with gentle humor, "and you two were always getting into trouble. Someone had to make sure you didn't get yourselves killed."

"Smart girl," he says with a small smile that makes Sadie's blush deepen.

The interaction is sweet but there's something else there too. An awareness on both sides that the little girl who used to tag along is now a beautiful woman, and the boy who used to tolerate her presence is now a man who's clearly been through things that have changed him.

"You should stay for dinner," Dean says immediately. "We're making Grandma's pot roast recipe. There's plenty."

"I don't want to impose—" Caleb starts.

"Family doesn't impose," I interrupt, meaning it completely. "Besides, we have news to celebrate."

"Oh, that's right!" Maeve exclaims, clearly delighted to share the announcement again. "They're having a baby!"

Caleb's expression transforms with genuine joy and something that might be relief. Like seeing his brother building a family is exactly what he needed to hear.

"Congratulations," he says warmly, and then he's pulling Dean into another hug before turning to me. "May I?" he asks politely, and when I nod, he gives me a gentle, careful hug. "That's incredible news. I'm going to be an uncle."

"Early spring baby," Dean says with pride that makes my chest tight with love. "I'm going to be a dad."

"Perfect timing for a homecoming then," Caleb says, and there's something in his voice that suggests he means more than just the festival.

As we continue through the festival, I watch the dynamics around us with interest. Dean and Caleb fall back into an easy brotherhood, though I can see Dean being careful not to push too hard about where Caleb's been or what he's experienced. Julian and Callum accept him with the quiet approval they give to people who matter to Dean. Maeve immediately preens on him.

And Sadie... Sadie keeps glancing at Caleb when she thinks no one's looking, like she can't quite believe the boy she remembered has become this serious, attractive man who's been through things she can only imagine.

"This is perfect," I say quietly to Dean as we watch Caleb explain something to one of the berry vendors, his militarybearing obvious even in civilian clothes. "Having him here, all of us together."

"It really is," Dean agrees, his arm tightening around me. "Everything's falling into place exactly like it's supposed to."

As the festival continues around us, as children play games and families share berry treats and the whole town celebrates the summer harvest, I find myself thinking about the future we're building. Not just the four of us anymore, but the extended family we're creating—Dean's brother finding his way back home, the friendships with Sadie and Maeve that will help us raise our child in community, the kind of support system that turns houses into homes and packs into legacies.

Our baby is growing inside me, surrounded by the love of three devoted fathers and the promise of a town that will help us raise them right. The claiming bites on my throat catch the afternoon light, marking me as theirs, but more than that, marking all of us as family.

This is what happiness looks like, I realize. Not the grand gestures or dramatic moments, but this. Summer berry festivals and protective packs and surprise homecomings and the quiet certainty that you're exactly where you belong.

Forever and always, with the people who choose you back, building something beautiful from the foundation up.

Epilogue

Late February

The nursery is perfect.

Callum built the crib himself, solid oak with details that speak to craftsmanship and love, positioned to catch the morning light without creating glare. Julian researched every aspect of nursery safety and design, creating a space that's both beautiful and functional. Dean painted a mural on one wall—a mountain landscape that looks remarkably like the view from our back porch, complete with the old oak tree where we've talked about hanging a swing someday.

At thirty-eight weeks pregnant, I can barely see my feet, but I don't need to. My three alphas have made sure I don't have to worry about anything below my enormous belly.

"Feet up," Callum says gruffly, settling onto the couch beside me with the kind of gentle authority that's become second nature over the past month. "You've been on them too much today."

"I just walked from the kitchen to here," I protest, though I'm already lifting my swollen ankles onto his lap.

"Too much," he repeats, his large hands beginning to work at the pressure points that always seem to ache these days.

Dean appears from the kitchen carrying a plate of the little sandwiches I've been craving—cucumber and cream cheese cut into triangles because apparently our baby has very specific opinions about food shapes. Julian follows with my pregnancy pillow, the special one that somehow supports every part of my body that hurts.

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