Page 173 of Down Knot Out
The Marks on my neck tingle as if responding to my words, and I trace them with my finger, each one distinct, each one representing a connection that redefined everything my mother taught me about how love is conditional.
I step closer to the balcony doors, drawn by the gathering crowd.
Emily stands near the entrance in a silver suit that catches the light, directing hotel staff with the same commanding presence she uses at construction sites. Her gray hair gleams in the sunlight, pinned back on the sides, the tips brushing her shoulders.
Holden’s family clusters near the appetizer table, his mother arranging a platter of cookies she insisted on baking herself. Next to her, his father adjusts the flowers with careful hands, and his sisters laugh with their heads close together.
When I met them yesterday, his mother hugged me without hesitation, welcoming me to the family, and his sisters pulled me into their circle as if I’d always belonged there. Wildly different from my previous familial experiences.
Across the courtyard, Sadie stands beside Mrs.Reynolds, her hands steady as she accepts a glass of sparkling apple juice. She celebrated three months sober last week with a quiet barbecue on the island. Her hair shines with health, the bleach covered by a natural brown that matches her brother’s and her daughter’s thick waves.
When she smiles at something Mrs. Reynolds says, I can see Blake in the curve of her mouth. Beside them, Quinn twirls in her flower girl dress, the fabric billowing around her in a pink cloud.
Nathaniel’s father moves between the tables, checking the place settings with a critical eye. Even now, he can’t resist trying to control every detail. But Nathaniel stands nearby, intercepting his father’s attempts to rearrange the centerpieces with a firm hand on his shoulder and quiet words that convince the older man to back down.
The sight of our makeshift family sends warmth blooming through my chest. After everything we’ve been through, we’re still here.
Still together.
“Penny for your thoughts?”
I turn to find Grady in the doorway, dressed in his formal shirt and slacks, a bouquet of white roses and lavender in his hands. His smile widens as he takes in my dress, the loose waves of my hair, andthe bare feet I haven’t yet forced into the heels waiting by the bed.
“They’re worth at least a dollar,” I snark, accepting the bouquet and bringing them to my nose. “Thank you for doing this.”
Grady shrugs, but the casual gesture can’t hide the emotion brightening his eyes. “Who else would give you away? Your fictional characters?”
I laugh, grateful for his ability to cut through the sentimentality with humor. “Who needs a dragon prince when I have my own fairy godfather right here?”
“And I look fantastic.” He straightens his tie with exaggerated pride.
My happiness falters as I turn back to the window. “The Homestead would have been perfect for this.”
Grady moves to stand beside me, his shoulder brushing mine as we both gaze out at the courtyard. “It will be perfect when it’s rebuilt. The insurance came through, and the kitchen is already taking shape.”
“I know.” I sigh, resting my forehead on the cool glass. “I shouldn’t complain. We’re lucky.”
The fire destroyed the north wing and the kitchen, but the central structure survived, thanks to the sprinklers. We lost furniture, clothes, andsome of Quinn’s toys, but not each other. Not our pack. Not our home.
“Simon can’t hurt you anymore,” Grady reminds me gently.
The name still sends a chill down my spine, despite the months since his arrest. Simon sits in a high-security prison, his bail denied after multiple psychiatrists deemed him a threat. Between the stalking, arson, kidnapping, murder, and attempted murder charges, he received a lifetime sentence without parole.
“And the Sinclairs?” Grady asks, always attuned to where my thoughts drift. “Any attempts to interfere with today?”
“Radio silence.” I straighten and square my shoulders. “Since I relinquished any claim on the Sinclair fortune, Gregory has no reason to contact me. The NDA ensures he’ll never acknowledge me in public.”
What I don’t say is how much lighter I feel without the weight of that legacy.
Using part of my inheritance to pay off the loan freed the Misty Pines pack from any obligation to the Burton pack. No more deadlines hanging over our heads, no more sabotage, no more threats of forfeiture. We own it outright, all five of us.
As for Blake’s father, he’s lying low. We agreednot to go after him for fraud charges that would have put him away for years but, in exchange for his freedom, he’s repaying every penny he took from Sadie’s severance from the Patel pack.
Blake’s father will never be the man his children deserved, but at least he’s being forced to make amends for some of the damage he caused.
And despite all his efforts to stop it, Phase One completed last month. Pride swells in my chest. The cabins are booked solid through the start of winter, and the Homestead renovations will finish by autumn.
Our new boat technician moves up next month, and Quinn’s homeschool teacher arrives next week. Quinn will have to do some catch-up, but since she won’t have to vie for attention with other students, we think she’ll be brought up to speed fast.
