Page 129 of Knot Unwanted: Part Two

Ren stares at my hand for a good few seconds, then up at my face, shock and confusion warring with a desperate, fragile hope in his expression.

I meet Finn’s eyes, finding in them a perfect understanding of what I’m about to do. Without a word, I take the box from Ren’s unresisting hands and move to the fireplace.

“Hailey,” Ren says, alarm evident in his voice as I reach for the matches and firelighter stored nearby. “What are you doing?”

“What should have been done a long time ago,” I reply, striking a match and lighting the firelighter beneath the box.

Ren lurches forward, trying to stop me. “You haven’t looked inside,” he protests. “You don’t know?—”

“I don’t have to.” I hold his gaze steadily as the first wisps of smoke begin to curl from the box. “I’m not going to judge you by your past or what your family did. I’m going to judge you by what I know.”

His expression crumples, disbelief warring with a desperate desire to believe. “And what do you know?”

“I know that you fought for me after the gala. I know you endured torture to protect me from Caldwell. I know you’ve been teaching me to defend myself, respecting my autonomy when it would be easier to just lock me away somewhere ‘safe.’” The words pour out of me, strong and sure. “I know you look at me like I’m something precious and terrifying all at once. I know you want to touch me but won’t let yourself, because you’re so afraid of causing harm that you’d rather suffer in silence.”

Tears gather in his eyes, unshed but unmistakable. “Hailey?—”

“I know you, Ren.” I reach for his hand, lacing our fingers together. “Not your past. Not your family. You.”

A strangled sound escapes him, and he falls to his knees beside the fireplace, watching as the flames consume whatever evidence of guilt he’s been carrying all these years.

Finn moves without hesitation, launching himself into Ren’s arms with such force that they both nearly topple over. “You idiot,” he says fiercely, his face buried in Ren’s neck. “You absolute idiot. How long have you been hiding that box?”

“Too long,” Ren admits, his arms coming up to hold Finn with a careful tenderness. “Since the accident.”

“Years,” Finn repeats, pulling back enough to frame Ren’s face with his hands. “Years of blaming yourself for something that was never your fault, Ren.”

“I brought it into our lives,” Ren argues, though his voice lacks conviction. “My family, my past?—”

“And you’ve been punishing yourself ever since,” I say, joining them on the floor, my hand finding Ren’s.

“Pulling away from the pack, isolating yourself, believing you don’t deserve connection or touch or love.” Finn whimpers, the sound making Ren grip him tighter.

He doesn’t deny it, which is answer enough.

“No more,” Finn declares, pressing his face into our alpha’s neck. “No more punishing yourself. No more hiding. No more pushing us away.”

Something breaks in Ren’s expression—not shattering but releasing, like ice giving way to spring thaw. “I don’t know how to stop,” he admits, the confession barely audible. “I’ve been this way for a long time, Finn.”

“We’ll show you,” I promise, leaning forward to press my forehead against his. “Look atme.” I force a smile. “I’ve changed, haven’t I?”

Ren swallows hard.

“Just a day at a time.” I smooth his hair as I hold his tortured gaze. Finn nods in fervent agreement.

The moment stretches between us before Ren moves, one hand coming toward my face with a gentle reverence that steals my breath. “Can I…” he starts, then stops, uncertainty flickering across his features.

“Yes,” I whisper, answering the unfinished question. “Please.”

His hand clasps my jaw as his lips meet mine in an achingly tender kiss, so different from the desperate, adrenaline-fueled claiming during my heat. His thumb strokes my cheekbone as he deepens the kiss, a soft sound of wonder escaping him as I respond.

When we part, both breathless, he turns to Finn with the same reverent expression. Their kiss is the same. Sweet. Tender. Finn reaches for my hand, drawing me closer, and then we’re all tangled together on the floor, a knot of limbs and hearts and healing.

The fire crackles beside us, consuming the last of Ren’s self-imposed penance. In its glow, our hands explore, lips tasting, bodies pressing closer.

We move as if by unspoken agreement toward the bed.

Finn’s hands guide me, his eyes dark with desire as he settles between my thighs. Ren watches for a moment, still hesitant, until I reach for him, drawing him down beside us.

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