Page 54 of Knot Your Karma
Mom’s radar immediately picks up on the shift in my scent—confidence mixing with something that sounds like genuine interest rather than casual dating.
“Then why is it complicated?”
Because I stole something from one of their family members and I’m terrified they’ll hate me when they find out.
Because I don’t know if I deserve the kind of respect and care they’re offering.
Because everything good that’s ever happened to me has eventually gone away.
“Because it’s new, and I’m scared,” I admit, voice coming out smaller than intended. “Because I don’t have a good track record with partners who seem too good to be true.”
Mom’s expression softens completely. “Scared of what, sweetheart?”
“Of screwing it up. Of not being enough. Of them deciding I’m not worth the effort once they really get to know me.” The words tumble out in a rush, all my insecurities spilling onto Mom’s formal dining table. “Of them realizing I’m just a girl who runs a struggling antique shop and talks to old compass collections like they’re people.”
“Oh, honey.” Mom reaches across the table with both hands, capturing mine in that firm, warm grip. “You are absolutely worth proper courtship. Any pack that doesn’t see that isn’t worthy of you, no matter how charming or coordinated their approach might be.”
“Even if I make mistakes? Even if I’m not perfect? Even if my life doesn’t look like what everyone expects?”
“Especially then. Love—whether it’s traditional pairing or pack bonding—isn’t about perfection, Karma. It’s about finding people who think you’re worth loving exactly as you are.” Her grip tightens, anchoring me to the moment. “And if these partners are offering real courtship, with proper respect and protocols, then maybe your timeline is exactly what it should be.”
The unexpected support hits like a physical thing—warmth spreading through my chest until my heart feels too big for my ribcage.
“I should probably head home,” I say, standing before the emotion can overwhelm me completely. “But thank you, Mom. For dinner, and for... understanding. For not freaking out about the pack courtship thing.”
“Will you tell me more about these mysterious partners when you’re ready?” Her curiosity is gentle but present. “Because I’d like to know who’s making my daughter sound like she’s being properly courted.”
“Both,” I say with a laugh that’s half tears. “Definitely both. When I’m ready.”
The moment I’m behind the wheel, my hands tremble with nervous energy as I reach for my phone like it’s a lifeline to sanity. Something in my biology settles the moment I see their messages—the relief of pack contact after hours of family evaluation that left me feeling like I’m perpetually disappointing everyone by being myself.
Four messages in the Compass Recovery group chat.
Compass Recovery
Declan (5:30 PM): Hope your family dinner is going okay.
Reed (6:15 PM): Maternal interrogation survival report: How many times did someone ask why you’re not married yet? I’m taking bets.
Adrian (6:45 PM): Everything alright?
Declan (7:20 PM): Friday dinner? All of us, somewhere nice. Our treat. No pressure, but we’d like to talk.
I stare at the screen, reading each message twice, warmth spreading through my chest like hot chocolate on a cold day. They were thinking about me during my family dinner. Checking in, making sure I was okay, wanting to spend more time together.
Me: Just got back. Family dinner survived with minimal emotional casualties.
The response is immediate, like they’ve been waiting.
Reed: Excellent. Please tell me you didn’t have to defend your career choices to someone who loves you but wishes you made different ones.
Me: How did you know?
Adrian: Lucky guess. You okay?
Me: Getting there. And yes to Friday dinner. That sounds really nice.
Declan: Great. We’ll find somewhere good. Reed’s already researching restaurants like it’s a diplomatic mission requiring security clearance.
