Page 141 of Knotting the Cowboys

Cole: Says the man who just offered to fuck himself

Me: Only if Willa helps

Cole: I'm muting this conversation

Me: Sure you are. See you in two hours. Three if traffic's bad

Cole: There IS no traffic

Me*: Might be. You never know

Cole: MAVERICK

I chuckle low in my throat, the sound vibrating through my chest where Willa's pressed against me. She stirs slightly, murmuring something that sounds like "tickles," before settling again. The simple trust in that—the way she doesn'twake, doesn't startle, just accepts my presence as safe—does something complicated to my insides.

These men, this makeshift family we've built, they're everything. And now there's Willa, fitting into our chaos like she was always meant to be there, filling spaces we didn't know were empty. The nest they're building is just the physical manifestation of what we're all trying to offer—a safe place to rest, to heal, to be herself without fear or judgment.

My phone buzzes one more time.

Cole: Hey. Meant to say earlier - good job with Blake. Asshole needed to see what he lost

Me: He didn't lose her. He threw her away. Different thing entirely

Cole: His loss. Our gain.

Me: Damn right

I set the phone aside, letting the conversation end on that note of shared understanding.

Two hours. I can give them two hours to create something perfect for her, something that might help ease the exhaustion carved into her bones.

But first, I'm going to sit here a little longer, holding her while she sleeps, being the anchor she seems to need. It's a small thing, maybe, but sometimes the small things matter most.

Just being chosen, being held, being protected is enough to start healing wounds that run soul-deep.

I set the phone face-down on the dashboard, the screen's fading light taking with it the warmth of pack banter, leaving just me and the woman sleeping against my shoulder and the decisions that come with protecting what's mine.

The parking lot has grown darker while we've been sitting here, other cars coming and going, families heading in for early dinners, couples holding hands as they navigate the uneven asphalt.

Normal people living normal lives, unaware of the small drama playing out in a dusty truck in the back corner. Willa's breath puffs against my neck, warm and steady, and I find myself matching my breathing to hers without conscious thought.

There's something about her like this—unguarded, trusting, all her sharp edges softened by sleep—that makes my chest tight with an emotion I don't want to name. She looks younger without the weight of consciousness pulling at her features. Vulnerable in a way that makes every protective instinct I have roar to life.

I lean down slowly, careful not to jostle her, and press my lips to her forehead. The kiss is feather-light, barely there, but her skin is warm and tastes faintly of salt from the day's exertions. She smells like honey and hay and something uniquely her—a scent I'm already addicted to, that my hindbrain has catalogued as 'safe' and 'home' and 'protect at all costs.'

"Rest," I whisper against her skin, the words barely voiced. "Let your Alphas handle everything."

The promise comes out without thought, natural as breathing, and that should terrify me.Your Alphas.Like it's already decided, like she's already ours, like the careful boundaries I maintain are just tissue paper waiting to burn. But the words feel right in a way that bypasses logic and goes straight to instinct.

She sighs in her sleep, turning her face into my neck, and her lips brush against my pulse point. The contact is accidental, unconscious, but it sends electricity racing down my spine anyway. My arm tightens around her automatically, holding hercloser, and I have to close my eyes against the surge of want that threatens to overwhelm common sense.

This is new territory for me.

Not the desire—I'm familiar with that, know how to compartmentalize it, use it, set it aside when needed.

But this tenderness?

This gentle ache that makes me want to wrap her in bubble wrap and simultaneously worship every inch of her?

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