Page 53 of Knot Broken

I grin at the ceiling. “Both are wild, honestly. But I was thinking more about this. You and me. Pack. Home.”

She’s quiet for a moment, then nudges me gently. “You’re stalling. I can hear it in your voice. Spill, big guy.”

I snort. “That obvious?”

She hums, smug.

I stretch one arm over my head and exhale slowly. “My parents were nomads—real wanderers. Never stayed in one place longer than six months. They used to say the Earth would speak to them when it was time to move on.” I roll my eyes. “What that actually meant was they had no jobs, no structure, and no idea how to raise a kid who didn’t want to live out of a school bus painted with tie-dye suns.”

Violet lifts her head just enough to glance up at me, her expression soft and curious. “So you moved around a lot?”

“Constantly,” I nod. “Desert one month, mountains the next. I didn’t even have a birth certificate until I was eight, and that was only because I got bit by a raccoon and needed shots.” I smirk as she stifles a laugh. “I lived more in forests and backroads than actual neighborhoods. My parents were all about peace, love, and communal living—but it never felt stable. Never felt like home.”

“That sounds…” She hesitates, eyes flicking over my face. “Lonely.”

“Yeah,” I admit. “It was.”

She presses a soft kiss just over my heart, and I swear I feel it echo all the way through me.

“What about you?” I ask quietly. “You always feel rooted somewhere?”

Violet shifts, her cheek returning to my chest. “I grew up with my grandmother. My parents were... just never around. No letters, no calls. I don’t even have a picture of them. My grandma raised me in this old creaky house with floral wallpaper and hummingbird feeders in every window. She was stubborn and sarcastic and made the best grilled cheese in the world.”

I smile, even though I can hear the ache creeping into her voice.

“She passed in her sleep a few years ago,” Violet adds softly. “Left me the house. It’s old, drafty, and kind of falling apart, but it’s mine. It’s the only thing I’ve ever really had that felt safe. Felt like mine.”

I pull her a little closer, a gentle squeeze that says I’m here, I hear you.

“I’m glad you had her,” I murmur. “She sounds like she would’ve terrified Fox.”

Violet snorts. “Oh, she would’ve made him cry.”

We fall into silence again, but this time it’s heavier—full of memories, losses, and the quiet realization that maybe we both grew up a little untethered… and found our anchor in each other.

“I don’t know much about staying,” I say softly, brushing a few strands of her hair off her cheek, “but I’m learning.”

She tilts her head just enough to meet my eyes, her fingers resting lightly against my chest. “You’re doing pretty damn good so far.”

I smile faintly, but there’s more I want to say—more she deserves to know.

“I didn’t really start to settle until I met Fox and Dare. We were all dumped into the same unit when we joined the government program. It was messy back then—classified missions, low survival rates, all that. They gave us orders, and we got used to being weapons instead of people. You didn’t make friends. You made exits.”

Violet doesn’t say anything, just listens—really listens—and that alone does something to the tightness in my chest.

“Fox was the first to challenge that mindset,” I continue. “He said if we had to work together, we might as well stop pretending we weren’t already a pack. Dare didn’t say much about it—he never does—but he stuck around. The three of us just… started to move together.”

I stare up at the ceiling for a moment, trying to find the right words.

“We bought this house thinking we needed a central location. Somewhere to regroup. Sleep between missions. That’s all it ever was—a base. Temporary.”

I look back down at Violet, and there she is: tucked against me, soft and warm and real, her bright eyes watching me like she already knows what I’m about to say.

“But with you?” I whisper, my voice rough with the truth of it. “This is the first time I’ve felt like I’m not waiting for the next exit. You’re not just a place to rest. You feel like home, Vi.”

She blinks slowly, tears shimmering at the corners of her eyes—but her smile is radiant, and steady.

“Good,” she murmurs. “Because I’ve been looking for mine too.”

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