Page 42 of Knotting the Cowboys

We climb the stairs together, Luna a bridge between us.

In her nursery, he watches me lay her in the crib, nodding approval at how I position her.

"You're doing better than you think," he says softly. "She's just particular sometimes. Gets it from her fathers."

Fathers, plural. The questions burn again, but this isn't the time.

"Get some rest," he says from the doorway. "Tomorrow the others will want to mother-hen you about the whole phone situation. Fair warning—Cole's probably already online shopping for options."

The image of stern Cole browsing cell phone plans makes me smile despite everything.

"Noted."

Austin disappears into the darkness, and I hear the back door close softly. Luna sleeps on, peaceful now, while I stand watching her breathe.

This strange little family that's folded me into their midst, offering help without judgment, protection without possession. Maybe Austin's right…that this is what pack is supposed to be.

Time will tell.

The sound of axes splitting wood pulls me from sleep, rhythmic and sure, and for a moment I forget where I am.

Then Luna's soft breathing through the baby monitor brings everything back—the ranch, the men, my new reality that feels more like a fever dream than inheritance.

Pale morning light filters through curtains I don't remember drawing. My body aches from yesterday's emotional marathon, muscles sore in places I didn't know could hold tension. But underneath the exhaustion, something else stirs.

Curiosity, maybe. Or the dangerous beginning of feeling safe.

From the window, I can see them already at work.

Cole splitting logs with economical precision, each swing deliberate and controlled. River mucking out stalls, moving with the fluid grace of someone who finds peace in routine. Mavi walking the perimeter, checking things I probably wouldn't even notice.

Their breath clouds in the crisp October air, but they move like the cold energizes rather than hinders.

No sign of Austin, but Luna's contented babbling through the monitor suggests he's already retrieved her.

The easy way they share her care speaks of long practice, complete trust.

A family in everything but name.

I dress quickly, pulling on jeans and one of the few sweaters that doesn't smell like smoke or bad memories. My reflection looks foreign—hair wild from sleep, face softer than I remember seeing it. Like the constant alertness I've worn for two years is finally, cautiously, easing.

The kitchen smells like coffee and contentment. Austin has Luna in her high chair, cheerfully wearing what appears to be half her oatmeal. River appears at my elbow before I've fully entered, pressing a mug into my hands.

"Two sugars, splash of cream," he says with a quiet smile. "Figured you could use it after last night's adventure."

He's already learned how I take my coffee.

Such a small thing, but it makes my throat tight with emotion I can't afford.

"Morning," Cole says from the doorway, bringing the scent of fresh-cut wood and morning frost. "Sleep okay after the Luna incident?"

"Fine," I manage, wrapping both hands around the warm mug. "Sorry again about?—"

"Stop apologizing." It's not quite an order, but close. "Austin said you handled it well for someone thrown in the deep end."

"She just needed some help," Austin adds, wiping banana from Luna's cheek. "Same as anybody would."

Mavi enters last, closing the door firmly behind him.

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