Page 97 of Knot Your Karma
“Fair point.” Destiny reaches for another plate, then pauses, fingers thoughtfully tracing the delicate rose pattern along the rim. “Remember right after you inherited this place? You were so scared to use any of Grandma’s good china, ate cereal from paper bowls for two weeks. Said you didn’t deserve to eat off family heirlooms.”
“I did that. Still do sometimes. But home isn’t just Grandma’s china or even Grandma’s house anymore. Home is wherever they are.” I look around my kitchen. Afternoon sunlight slants through the windows, catching dust motes that dance around our packing work. “Which feels as if I’m betraying her memory somehow, but also as if she’d understand. Which sounds super cheesy when I say it out loud, but whatever.”
“Look at you, getting all wise and pack-bonded.” Destiny’s smile is warm but tinged with something that might be longing, her usual confident posture slightly deflated as she reaches for more tissue paper. “Six months ago you were convinced you were destined to be alone forever, and now you’re moving to Boston with three gorgeous men who worship the ground you walk on.”
“Six months ago I was an idiot,” I correct, taping up the completed box with more force than necessary, the sound sharp in the quiet kitchen. “A complete and total idiot whothought I didn’t deserve good things, that love was supposed to hurt, that being alone was safer than risking disappointment. Which, in retrospect, was absolutely ridiculous.”
“And now?”
“Now I know that love is supposed to feel like coming home. Like being seen and valued and protected without being made smaller, which sounds like a Hallmark card but is actually true, apparently.” I set the box aside and reach for the next one, already labeled Books - Handle with Care in Declan’s precise handwriting. “Now I know that the right people don’t make you feel as if you have to shrink yourself to fit—they help you become everything you were meant to be.”
Destiny goes quiet, focusing intently on wrapping a serving bowl as if it requires her complete attention. Her movements become overly precise, coffee scent going slightly sharp with unexpressed emotion. When she speaks again, her voice goes artificially light in that way that means she’s fighting tears. “Must be nice. Having that kind of certainty.”
“Des.” I stop packing and really look at my best friend—the woman who’s held my hand through every crisis, who celebrated every small victory, who made sure I ate actual meals when my anxiety tried to convince me I didn’t deserve food. Her perfectly applied eyeliner shows tiny stress cracks at the corners, and her hands move with restless energy that speaks to kept emotions. “What’s going on? You’ve been weird about the pack thing since we got bonded.”
“I’m not weird about it! I’m happy for you. You deserve everything good that’s happening.” She doesn’t meet my eyes, instead focusing on wrapping the bowl with unnecessary thoroughness, her fingers trembling slightly as she adjusts the tissue paper three times more than needed.
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” I move around the kitchen island, settling onto the stool next to hers,close enough to see the way her jaw tightens when she’s holding back words. “Talk to me. What’s really going on?”
Destiny sets down the bowl and looks at me with an expression I can’t quite read—something between frustration and vulnerability that makes her usually confident demeanor crack around the edges. “You want the truth? I’m fucking terrified, okay? There, I said it.”
“Of what?”
“Of wanting what you have! Of watching you be so completely, obviously happy and realizing that maybe I’ve been lying to myself about being content with independence.” She laughs, but it sounds hollow, lacking her usual warmth. Her fingers drum against the counter in rapid succession. “Six months ago, we were both disasters in different ways. Now you’re bonded and glowing and planning ceremonies, and I’m still... me. Still making coffee and avoiding attachment and pretending that watching other people find love doesn’t make me feel as if I’m missing something fundamental.”
Something sharp twists in my chest at her honesty. “Des, you’re not missing anything. You’re just not ready yet, and that’s totally okay.”
“What if I’m never ready? What if I’m one of those people who’s meant to be alone? What if I don’t have whatever magical thing makes pack bonds work?” Her voice cracks on the last word, hands trembling slightly as she reaches for another piece of tissue paper.
“That’s bullshit,” I say firmly. “Complete and total bullshit. Six months ago, I would have said the exact same thing about myself. I was convinced I was broken, that Blake proved I wasn’t worth loving properly, that pack bonds were for other people who had their shit together.”
“But you were wrong.”
“I was scared. There’s a difference.” I reach for her hands, surprised to find them trembling slightly, her usual steadyconfidence replaced by vulnerability that makes my chest ache. “Des, you’re one of the most caring, loyal, amazing people I know. You’ve been pack to me since the day I moved here, even when neither of us called it that. You make sure everyone in this town eats properly, you remember details about customers’ lives that they forget themselves, you create this sense of community and belonging wherever you go.”
“That’s different. That’s friendship, not... whatever magical thing you have with your guys.”
“It’s not magic. It’s a choice. And work. A lot of work. But they decided I was worth it, and I finally stopped arguing with them about it.” I squeeze her hands gently, feeling the rapid pulse at her wrists that betrays her anxiety despite her controlled expression. “And someday, when you’re ready, you’re going to find people who see what I see—that you’re absolutely worth the effort too.”
Destiny’s eyes fill with tears she’s too stubborn to let fall, her breath catching in that particular way that means she’s fighting for control. “What if they never show up? What if I spend the rest of my life waiting for something that’s not coming?”
“Then you live an amazing life anyway. But Des? I have a feeling your pack is closer than you think.”
“Based on what? Your newly acquired expertise in cosmic matchmaking?”
“Based on the fact that the universe has a seriously twisted sense of humor about bringing people together when they least expect it.” I grin, with mischief and absolute certainty. “I mean, look at us. Six months ago, who would have predicted that stealing a compass would lead to the best thing that ever happened to me? What are the odds?”
“The universe and I aren’t exactly on speaking terms,” Destiny mutters, but she’s smiling now, some of the tension leaving her shoulders as she wipes her eyes with precision to preserve her eyeliner.
“Give it time. Sometimes the universe works slowly, but it’s got excellent taste in romantic chaos.” I stand up, pulling her into a hug that smells like coffee and friendship and all the years we’ve been each other’s chosen family. Her arms tighten around me with desperate affection, her heartbeat rapid against my shoulder as she holds on a moment longer than usual, as if she’s trying to memorize the feeling. “Besides, you’re going to be too busy keeping an eye on What Goes Around to worry about romance for a while.”
“About that.” Destiny pulls back, her expression shifting to something between excitement and worry, hands automatically smoothing her perfect hair. “Are you absolutely sure Fate can handle everything? I mean, she’s amazing—don’t get me wrong—but it’s such a big responsibility, and what if something goes wrong while you’re in Boston?”
“Des, have you seen her with the customers? She has this intuitive understanding of what people need before they even know it themselves.” I gesture around the kitchen, where evidence of our packing session covers every surface like organized chaos arranged into careful systems. “Plus, she’s been running things perfectly while I was... indisposed. The shop has never looked better.”
“She does have that mystical touch with the displays,” Destiny admits, some of the worry leaving her voice. “And customers love her cosmic insights about their family heirlooms. But what if she needs backup? What if there’s something she’s not sure about?”
“That’s where you come in. You know this business almost as well as I do just from hanging around all these years. Plus, you understand the community, the customers, the day-to-day rhythms.” I squeeze her shoulders gently, feeling the tight muscles that speak to weeks of stress she’s been hiding. “You’ll be her safety net, her local expertise, her connection to how things have always been done.”
