Page 208 of Knot Baked Out For This
"That I'm happy," I admit. "Completely, terrifyingly, permanently happy."
"Good," Levi says sleepily from somewhere near my feet. "You should be. You've earned it."
Have I?
"Yes," Rowan says firmly, like I spoke out loud. "You survived, you rebuilt, you succeeded. You've earned every bit of happiness you're feeling right now."
Through the open barn window, I can hear the festival winding down—laughter, music, the sound of a town celebrating together. The scent of cinnamon and cedar drifts through, mixing with the vanilla that's so thoroughly integrated into this space that the whole barn smells like home.
Tomorrow, there will be cleanup. Orders to fill. The continued gossip about the court case and Korrin's arrest, and probably seventeen new variations of what happened that have me performing increasingly impressive acrobatic feats.
But tonight?—
Tonight I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be.
In a nest that smells like pack and promise. Surrounded by Alphas who built me a future instead of demanding I fit into theirs. With pets who've declared themselves familiars and friends who've become family and a town that's decided I'm worth protecting.
"I love you," I whisper into the comfortable darkness. "All of you. Everything you've done. Everything you are. Just... all of it."
"We know," they say in unison, and it sounds like forever.
"That was very Han Solo," I point out.
"We've been practicing," Levi admits.
"Of course you have."
But I'm smiling, can't help it, face pressed into the crook of Rowan's shoulder while Luca's arm drapes over my waist and Levi's head rests on my hip. We're a pile of limbs and contentment, and somewhere in the tangle, Muffin has claimed her spot on the pillow above my head, purring like a tiny motor of approval.
Outside, Oakridge Hollow glows gold with the last of the Halloween celebrations. Jack-o'-lanterns flicker on porches. Leftover candy gets counted and traded. Children crash from sugar highs while parents wonder what possessed them to allow this chaos.
And in the barn behind Hazel's Hearth & Home Bakery, wrapped in blankets and pack scent and the warm weight of forever, I finally let myself believe what my heart's been whispering for months:
This isn't temporary.
This isn't conditional.
This is real, and mine, and everything I thought I'd lost when I fled from Korrin's pack.
"Thank you," I whisper to the universe, to fate, to whatever cosmic force decided that a disaster of an omega who stress-bakes at 3 AM deserved a second chance at happiness.
"Stop thinking so loud," Luca mumbles. "Sleep. Tomorrow you can stress-bake. Tonight you just exist."
Exist.
Such a simple thing, but it feels revolutionary.
So I do.
I exist in this moment, this nest, this life I've built from the ashes of everything I left behind.
And as sleep pulls me under—warm and safe and surrounded by love I never thought I'd deserve—my last conscious thought is this:
I did it.
I survived.
I thrived.
