Page 67 of Knot My Type

The silence that follows is profound, weighted with something I can't quite identify.

"Us?" Kael's voice is carefully neutral, but I can see the emotion in his eyes.

"Not literally," I clarify quickly. "It's fiction. But it's about a woman who gets snowed in with three men and discovers that family isn't always the people you're born with, that home isn't always a place you grew up. That sometimes the most important journeys are the ones that lead you to yourself."

Rhys has stopped chopping entirely, his hands still on the cutting board as he stares at me. "You wrote our story."

"I wrote a story," I correct, though my cheeks are burning. "One that was inspired by our story, but not the same thing."

"Can we read it?" Fen asks quietly.

The question sends a flutter of nervousness through me. My writing has always been deeply personal, but this book more than any other. It's one thing to share it with Rebecca or my agent; it's another entirely to show it to the people who inspired it.

"It's not polished yet," I hedge. "I literally just finished the first draft yesterday, and it probably needs a lot of work before—"

"Eliana." Kael's voice cuts through my rambling. "Can we read it?"

The simple question, asked with such quiet intensity, makes my heart skip. These men have shared their home with me, their bodies, their hearts. The least I can do is share my art.

"Yes," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. "I'd like that, actually."

The smiles that light their faces make me feel like I've given them something precious rather than just permission to read a rough manuscript.

"After dinner," Rhys declares, returning to his chopping with renewed energy. "We eat, we read, and then we talk about what comes next."

"What comes next," I repeat, and this time the phrase doesn't carry anxiety but anticipation.

Whatever comes next, we'll face it together. And somehow, that makes everything possible.

ELIANA

We gather around the kitchen table as we have so many times before during the time that I’ve been here, but tonight there's an electric undercurrent of permanence that makes every shared glance, every casual touch, feel weighted with significance. This isn't just another meal during our temporary arrangement—this is the first dinner of our life together, the beginning of whatever comes next.

Rhys has outdone himself, creating something that smells like heaven and tastes even better. Herb-crusted chicken with roasted vegetables and a side of wild rice that somehow manages to be both hearty and elegant. The kind of meal that speaks to care and attention, to the desire to nourish rather than simply feed.

"This is incredible," I tell him, meaning it. "Where did you learn to cook like this?"

He shrugs, but I can see the pleased flush on his cheeks. "Trial and error, mostly. When you're feeding two alphas with appetites like black holes, you either learn to cook well or go broke ordering takeout."

"Hey," Kael protests around a mouthful of chicken. "We're not that bad."

"You ate an entire pizza by yourself last week," Fen points out mildly.

"That was after a twelve-hour work day," Kael defends, but he's grinning as he says it.

I love this—the easy teasing, the comfortable familiarity, the way they can rib each other without malice. It speaks to years of friendship, of chosen family, of the kind of bond that can weather disagreements and stress and still come out stronger on the other side.

"Speaking of work," Rhys says, his tone shifting slightly toward seriousness, "we should probably talk about the business. About what happens now that we're opening earlier than planned."

The statement hangs in the air, loaded with implications I'm not sure I fully understand yet. I know they've been planning to start some kind of consulting firm, but the details have been vague, mentioned in passing rather than discussed in depth.

"What kind of business?" I ask, setting down my fork to give them my full attention.

The three of them exchange glances, and I see something pass between them—a silent communication that speaks to their deep familiarity with each other.

"Security consulting," Kael says finally. "Corporate risk assessment, personal protection services, that kind of thing. We all have backgrounds that translate well—military, law enforcement, private security."

"That sounds dangerous," I say before I can stop myself.

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