Page 145 of Knot Unwanted: Part Two

“Okay,” I agree, drawing a steadying breath. “I can work with that.”

Relief softens both their expressions, and I realize they’d been prepared for more resistance, for a more authoritarianresponse. The fact that they’re surprised by my acceptance indicates how much work I still have to do in adjusting my leadership style, in demonstrating that I truly do respect their agency.

“Thank you,” Hailey says softly, pressing her forehead to mine in a gesture of intimate connection. “For understanding. For trying.”

Finn’s hand squeezes my shoulder, his touch conveying similar appreciation.

I hold them tight for several long minutes. My two omegas. My world.

Finally, I rise to my feet, steadier now. “Do you want to stay out here longer?” I ask, gaze shifting to the cabin.

They exchange a look, some silent communication passing between them, before Finn answers. “Actually, I think we’re ready to head back. I was in the middle of making lunch when we decided to take a walk, and I’m still hungry.”

The normalcy of the statement, the return to everyday concerns after such emotional intensity, draws a small smile from me. “Lunch sounds good,” I agree. “It’s been a long morning.”

As we turn toward the house, something shifts in their demeanor. Finn reaches for Hailey’s hand, their fingers intertwining with ease. A spark of mischief lights in Hailey’s eyes—something I haven’t seen before.

“I just had the best idea,” she announces suddenly, her face brightening with unexpected excitement. She tugs on Finn’s hand, already tugging him forward. “Come on!”

Before I can ask what she’s planning, they’re both running toward the house, Hailey leading and Finn following with a startled laugh that carries back to us on the breeze. The sound of their combined laughter makes my steps falter. How long has it been since I’ve heard that?

I stand rooted to the spot, watching them race across the lawn. Something tightens in my chest. Something dangerously close to hope.

Stone and Ren move past me, continuing toward the house before Stone pauses after a few steps, glancing back over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, you coming?” he asks, the corner of his mouth quirked in what might almost be amusement.

I nod, forcing my feet to move again, but my thoughts remain tangled. I’ve been the slowest to change. Clinging to control as a means of ensuring safety. The others have been…patient with me.

By the time we reach the house, Finn and Hailey have already disappeared inside. The front door stands open, their excited voices drifting out into the still afternoon air. We follow the sound to the living room, where an unexpected sight stops me dead in my tracks.

Hailey sits cross-legged on the couch, her face alight with anticipation. Finn is seated on the floor directly in front of her, his back against the couch, his head tilted slightly as her fingers absently stroke through his hair. But it’s what she holds in her other hand that freezes me in place.

My guitar.

The vintage acoustic guitar I haven’t touched since the night of Finn’s accident.

Stone and Ren move past me to take seats in the room—Stone claiming an armchair, Ren leaning against the far wall in his customary stance. Soon, all four of them are looking at me expectantly, waiting.

“What?” I ask, though I know perfectly well what they want, what Hailey has orchestrated with her impulsive dash to the house.

Hailey’s smile softens, becoming something gentle and hopeful rather than mischievous. “Will you?” she whispers, holding the guitar out toward me. “Play me something happy.”

The request stirs memories I’ve kept carefully locked away. Evenings spent with this same guitar in hand, Finn curled beside me, often singing along softly. Music had been our connection, our shared language, before everything fractured. Before I buried that part of myself alongside so many others.

I swallow hard, my gaze shifting between them—Hailey with the guitar extended like an offering, Finn watching me with quiet hope, Stone and Ren with expressions of careful neutrality that don’t quite mask their interest. My pack, all waiting to see if I can take this small step toward reclaiming a piece of myself that once brought joy.

With a deep breath, I cross the room and take the guitar from Hailey’s hands. The weight of it is familiar yet strange, like greeting an old friend who has become a stranger through long absence. I settle into the vacant spot beside Hailey, adjusting the instrument in my lap, fingers finding their positions on the fretboard with muscle memory that has apparently survived my long hiatus.

I start to play, and immediately wince at the sound that emerges—discordant, clumsy. My fingers feel stiff, uncooperative, refusing to move the way I remember.

Finn’s laugh breaks the awkward moment. “Okay, maybe stick to being pretty,” he teases, his eyes crinkling at the corners with affection that takes any sting from the words.

His words startle a laugh from me. I shake out my hands, adjust my grip, and try again—this time with less ambition, choosing a simple progression I used to play as a warm-up. Basic chords, uncomplicated rhythm.

This time, the music comes. Not perfect, certainly nowhere near my former skill level, but recognizable. My fingersremember what I had forgotten, finding their way across strings and frets with increasing confidence. The melody emerges, halting at first, then flowing more naturally as I surrender to the familiar motion.

I glance up to find Hailey watching me with such open wonder that my breath catches. Finn’s eyes have drifted closed, his head tilted back against the couch, a peaceful smile playing at his lips. Even Stone and Ren seem affected. They smile, and I catch when they glance at each other.

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