Page 82 of Knot on the Market

"There she is. How'd you sleep?"

"Like the dead," I admit, accepting the cup of coffee Julian hands me. Our fingers brush during the exchange, and thecontact sends electricity racing up my arm. "Real sleep, in my real bed. It was amazing."

"Good," Callum says simply, but his voice is rougher than usual. "Needed proper rest."

The kitchen feels smaller with all three of them in it, but not uncomfortably so. More like it's found its proper capacity, like this is how it was meant to be used. They move around the space with quiet efficiency. Dean handling breakfast with cheerful competence, Julian organizing papers with his characteristic thoroughness, Callum's solid presence making everything feel more secure.

This is what you were afraid of, I realize, watching them work together in my space.Not that they'd leave, but that you'd get too comfortable being taken care of.

"We saved you some breakfast," Julian says, gesturing toward the plate Dean's preparing. "Though Dean may have gone slightly overboard with the portion sizes."

"I stress-cook," Dean says with a grin, but there's something softer in his expression now. "Besides, someone's got to make sure you eat something that isn't energy bars."

The plate holds fluffy scrambled eggs, perfectly crispy bacon, and toast cut into triangles. It's exactly the kind of breakfast that says someone cares about starting your day right, and I have to blink back unexpected emotion.

"This looks incredible," I manage. "Thank you. All of you."

"What's everyone's plan for today?" I ask around a bite of eggs, trying to navigate this new territory.

"Work," Julian says simply. "I'm behind on several accounts after..." He gestures vaguely, not making me feel guilty about the time they've spent here.

"Same," Callum agrees. "Got orders backing up."

"Shift starts at seven tomorrow morning," Dean adds. "So I'm free today if you need anything."

The casual way they're returning to their normal routines helps something settle in my chest. They're not treating me like I'm made of glass or like our time together created obligations that need constant discussion.

But they're also not pretending it didn't happen. There's a new ease between us, an intimacy that comes from having been vulnerable together.

"Actually," I say, an idea forming, "I was thinking about walking into town. Maybe visiting Sadie. I feel like I've been hiding in this house for days."

"You haven't been hiding," Julian corrects gently. "You've been recovering. There's a difference."

"Still. I want to get out, see people, remind myself what the rest of the world looks like."

And remind myself that I'm capable of functioning without constant caretaking.

"Want company?" Dean asks immediately, but when I look at him, he seems to catch himself and relaxes. "I mean, if you want. No pressure."

The fact that he offers but doesn't push makes my heart flutter. He's learning to read my needs instead of assuming them.

"I think I need some girl time," I say with a smile. "But thank you for offering."

An hour later, I'm walking through downtown Honeyridge Falls wearing jeans and a soft t-shirt, breathing in warm summer air that smells like blooming flowers and fresh possibilities. The town feels different now, not because anything has changed, but because I'm seeing it through eyes that aren't looking for an escape route.

For the first time since I arrived, I'm not running from something. I'm walking toward it.

But I'm also walking alone, on my own two feet, making my own choices about how to spend my morning. The independence feels good, rusty from disuse, but satisfying in ways I'd forgotten.

The flower shop sits on Main Street, windows full of arrangements that look both carefully planned and effortlessly natural. The bell chimes as I enter, and Sadie's face lights up with genuine warmth.

"Lila! You look radiant."

Heat creeps up my neck at the knowing way she says it. "I feel good. Really good."

"Post-heat glow is real, but this is something else. This is happiness." Her smile is understanding without being intrusive. "Coffee?"

We settle in the back room of her shop, surrounded by the sweet scent of roses and the earthy smell of potting soil. Sadie pours coffee from a thermal carafe, and I breathe in the normalcy of it—two women sharing coffee and conversation, nothing complicated or charged.

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