Page 59 of Knot on the Market

Callum pushes away from the counter abruptly, running a hand through his hair. "I need air," he mutters, but doesn't actually leave. Just stands there breathing hard, looking like he's fighting every instinct he has.

"Lila," Dean says carefully, setting down his wine glass. His voice is gentle but serious. "We need you to know something."

Oh God.Heat floods my cheeks and I grip my wine glass tighter. "You don't need to?—"

"Yes, we do," Julian says quietly, his hand finding mine on the counter. "We're interested in you. All of us."

The words hit me like a physical blow, confirming what I've been trying so hard to deny. "I can't," I whisper, my voice barely audible.

"We're not asking for anything right now," Dean says gently. "Just want you to know that if you ever decide you're ready... we'll be here."

"When you're ready," Callum adds simply, his deep voice making my knees weak.

"All of us," Dean confirms, and there's something in his tone that suggests they've already discussed this.

The implication makes my head spin and my body respond in ways that should terrify me. The thought of all three of them, together, focused on me... it's everything I swore I didn't want and exactly what my omega instincts are screaming for.

"I should go," I say quickly, standing up so fast the stool nearly tips over. "Thank you for dinner, for the wine, for?—"

"Lila," Julian starts, but I'm already backing toward the door.

"I can't do this," I say, my voice cracking. "I came here to be alone. I don't want—I can't?—"

But my scent betrays me, blooming sweet and interested and completely contradicting every word coming out of my mouth.

"It's okay," Dean says gently, not moving closer despite the obvious effort it takes to stay still. "Take all the time you need."

"We're not going anywhere," Callum adds, his steady presence somehow both comforting and terrifying.

I grab my purse and escape to my car before I can do something stupid like ask them to follow me home. Before I can acknowledge that the growing ache between my thighs has nothing to do with the uncomfortable dinner chair and everything to do with three alphas whose attention makes me feel claimed in ways I'm not ready to examine.

The drive home passes in a blur of unfamiliar streets and mounting internal chaos. My hands shake slightly on the steering wheel, and I can feel slick gathering heavier between my thighs with each breath that still carries traces of their scents.

I'm fine, I tell myself firmly as I turn onto my street. I don't need this. I'm not going into heat. I'm fine.

But my body hums with certainty.You want them.

The thought follows me into my house, up the stairs to where my nest waits surrounded by their scents, into sleep that's filled with dreams of strong hands and warm voices and the kind of claiming that has nothing to do with force and everything to do with choice.

Dreams where I choose them back.

And in the morning, when I wake up tangled in sheets that smell like green apple and white musk and three different kinds of want, I'm no longer sure that fine is what I'm aiming for.

Maybe fine is overrated.

Chapter 18

Dean

Iwalk into Greaves Lumberyard's back office carrying a tray of coffee cups, the scent of sawdust and cedar mixing with fresh-brewed caffeine in the afternoon air. It's been five hours since my shift started, and I've got maybe twenty minutes before the next call comes in, but I needed to see how the other two were handling last night.

Based on the atmosphere in this office, the answer is not well.

Callum sits hunched over his desk, reviewing lumber invoices with the kind of intense focus that means he's avoiding thinking about something else entirely. His jaw is set in that stubborn line I've known since we were kids, and he hasn't looked up since I walked in.

Julian perches on a stool near the window, his hands folded neatly in his lap, staring out at the yard where workers are loading trucks. He's got that distant look behind his wire-rimmed glasses, the one that means his brain is running calculations he doesn't want to share.

Neither of them acknowledges my entrance, which tells me everything I need to know about how they're processing what happened at Maeve's.

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