Page 154 of Knotting the Cowboys

Cole is slumped in an oversized armchair that definitely wasn't here this morning, his head tilted back at what has to be an uncomfortable angle. He's snoring softly, the sound almost drowned out by Luna's continued excited squeaks. Even in sleep, he looks exhausted, shadows under his eyes and his clothes rumpled like he's been working non-stop.

"Of course the old man couldn't stay up. Pathetic." Mavi's groan is all fond exasperation as he guides me fully into the room, closing the door behind us with a soft click. "We've been home for two minutes and he's already failing at the grand reveal."

River rolls his eyes, the gesture so dramatic I can see it even in the soft lighting.

"He worked himself half to death setting all this up. Cut him some slack." His fingers absently pluck a few notes, the melody sweet and sleepy. "You should've seen him earlier—measuring everything twice, adjusting pillows like the fate of the world depended on perfect cushion placement. I've never seen anyone take nest building so seriously."

"He even made a diagram," Austin adds with a laugh that makes Luna giggle in response. "An actual diagram, Willa. With measurements and optimal scent distribution patterns. I think he might have used some of his old firefighting tactical planning."

The image of Cole, gruff and practical Cole, carefully diagramming pillow placement makes my throat tight with emotion I'm not prepared to handle. These men who barely know me, who have no obligation to care, spent their evening creating this space. For me. The girl who showed up on their doorstep like a stray cat, all sharp edges and trust issues.

"Got it all on video too," Austin continues, shifting Luna to one hip with practiced ease. "For the family memories. Figure Cole will want to see your reaction even if he couldn't stay awakefor it." He grins, mischievous and boyish. "Plus, future blackmail material is always valuable."

"You're recording this?" I squeak, suddenly aware that I'm standing here in Mavi's flannel shirt and nothing else, hair probably a disaster, eyes red from exhaustion and other activities I don't want to think about with an audience.

"Just on my phone," Austin assures me. "Nothing fancy. Just... we don't get many firsts anymore, you know? First time seeing your nest seemed worth documenting."

My nest.

The words hit me like a physical blow, and I have to reach for the doorframe to steady myself. This isn't just a transformed room—it's a nest. Something I never had, never knew I needed, never thought I deserved.

I stand frozen in the doorway, my legs suddenly unable to remember how movement works. The fairy lights blur in my vision, and I realize with mounting horror that I'm about to cry. In front of everyone. My emotional regulation is shot to hell lately, walls I spent years building crumbling like tissue paper in the rain.

"What's this for?" The whisper escapes before I can stop it, small and vulnerable and nothing like the capable woman I try to project.

My voice cracks on the last word, and I have to swallow hard against the lump building in my throat.

The room goes quiet except for Cole's soft snores and Luna's happy burbling.

River's fingers still on the guitar strings, Austin's playful expression softens into something tender, and Mavi's hand finds the small of my back, warm through the flannel.

They're all looking at me with expressions I can't decode—or maybe I can, and that's what's making it hard to breathe.

"It's for you," River says simply, like that explains everything and nothing all at once.

The fairy lights catch on the glass jars, sending tiny rainbows across the walls. Every detail screams thoughtfulness—from the color scheme that matches my eyes to the way the pillows are arranged in a perfect circle, creating a cocoon of softness. There are blankets I recognize as belonging to each of them, their scents mingling into something that makes my omega instincts want to burrow in and never leave.

Someone cleared out an entire corner for what looks like a reading nook, complete with a small bookshelf already half-filled with worn paperbacks.

A silk robe hangs from a hook near the closet—not my ratty old one, but something new and beautiful in a shade of amber that probably cost more than I want to know. There's even a small electric kettle on the dresser, boxes of tea arranged beside it like soldiers.

"You did all this today?" My voice sounds strange, thick with unshed tears. "While I was gone?"

"Started planning it the moment Cole got back from town," Austin says, bouncing Luna gently when she starts to fuss. "He was like a man on a mission. Dragged us all into it, not that we minded."

"River contributed the flowers," Mavi adds, his thumb rubbing small circles on my back. "Austin handled the comfort items. I managed the lighting because apparently, I'm the only one who understands ambiance."

"And Cole?" I glance at the sleeping Alpha, noting the way his hand still loosely holds what looks like a pricing tag from one of the pillows.

"Cole did everything else," River says with quiet admiration. "Drove to three different stores for the right kind of cushions. Spent an hour arranging and rearranging until everything wasperfect. Pretty sure he interviewed the sales staff about thread counts."

The tears win.

They spill over despite my best efforts, tracking hot down my cheeks as I stand there in the doorway of a room transformed by love I don't know how to accept.

Luna makes a distressed sound at my tears, reaching harder for me, and that breaks the spell holding me in place.

"It's a nest," Austin says gently, as if I might spook if he speaks too loud. "Cole told us that Iron Ridge never taught you about nesting, never let you have one. That's..." He pauses, jaw working like he's biting back words that want to be violent. "That's neglect, Willa. Criminal neglect. Every omega deserves a safe space to rest, to feel secure, to be surrounded by pack scents when they need comfort."

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