Page 208 of Knotting the Firefighters
"You knew?" The question emerges smaller than intended. "You knew you wanted me as your Omega? Permanently? Not just a temporary arrangement but actual?—"
They nod collectively—synchronized confirmation that makes something in my chest crack open.
All eyes turn toward Aidric, clearly designating him spokesperson for group sentiment.
He shifts weight—uncomfortable with attention and vulnerability but committed to honest communication despite discomfort.
"I stubbornly refused to believe it initially," he begins with self-awareness that suggests significant personal growth. "Maintained skepticism about compatibility, questioned biological bonds, convinced myself this was a temporary situation we'd navigate then dissolve."
His jaw clenches—visible effort required to continue.
"But I knew in my gut you were our best option. Confirmed absolutely when you bonded with Calder—felt the connection snap into place, recognized completion in ways I couldn't rationally explain or consciously deny."
Calder moves closer to Aidric—a subtle show of support that doesn't go unnoticed.
"I kept waiting," Aidric continues, words coming faster now like a dam breaking. "Waiting for you to prove my skepticism justified, to demonstrate that you weren't genuinely interested in our well-being or invested in our success. Thought you'dreveal yourself as manipulative or self-serving or any of the qualities I'd convinced myself all Omegas possessed."
The admission stings despite understanding the fear driving it.
"But week after week, you proved me wrong," his voice softens with something approaching wonder. "Consistently demonstrated genuine investment in my development, wanted me to become the best chief I could be, pushed me toward excellence in an environment where I naturally thrive rather than trying to diminish or control."
He takes a step forward—closing the distance between us, body language opening in ways that communicate sincerity.
"I don't want to lose you," the confession emerges quietly but absolutely. "Realized this was an optimal opportunity to ensure you experience your first proper heat in comfort and safety, that we spend our first Thanksgiving together as officially recognized unit in our own space rather than borrowed accommodations or public settings."
First Thanksgiving.
First official Heat with a pack who loves me...
First, everything with them, with this strange assembled group that's somehow become essential to daily functioning.
Silas contributes his own information with medical precision:
"I coordinated with Cole and Officer Hazel. Her unit of officers volunteered to oversee Cactus Rose Ranch for several weeks, ensuring your responsibilities are managed while you're indisposed. Allows you to experience heat without anxiety about neglected duties or abandoned commitments."
They planned everything.
Every detail, every contingency, every element is designed to maximize my comfort and minimize stress.
"Heat will probably arrive after this weekend," Silas continues with a clinical assessment. "Potentially on Thanksgiving itself, based on your symptom progression and cycle patterns. Poetic timing actually—giving thanks while experiencing biological fulfillment."
I can't help the laugh that escapes—slightly hysterical edge betraying emotional overwhelm.
"Thanksgiving heat. How festive. Should I prepare turkey-scented suppressants for thematic consistency?"
Their laughter is warm, understanding the deflection for what it is—a coping mechanism for processing the overwhelming gesture of care.
The tears come despite attempts at control—silent streams down cheeks, emotion manifesting physically because words feel inadequate for expressing the magnitude of gratitude and love and absolute terror at how much I've come to need them.
"I love you," the words tumble out unfiltered. "All of you. The effort you invested, the consideration you demonstrated, the way you filled this space with favorite books and cherished clothes and physical evidence of your understanding and devotion?—"
My voice breaks completely, crying in earnest now while Bear continues supporting my weight like it costs him nothing.
"You didn't just provide functional nesting space," I continue when breath returns. "You created a sanctuary. Personal haven that reflects who I actually am rather than who circumstances forced me to become. Honored my authentic preferences instead of trying to mold me into a convenient version."
Bear sets me down carefully—feet finding floor while his hands remain steady at my waist, ensuring stability.
I move to each of them in turn—Silas first, kissing him with gratitude that transcends physical attraction. Then Aidric, whose surprised expression makes my heart clench withaffection. Calder next, familiar comfort mixed with renewed appreciation. Finally, Bear again, whose satisfied smirk suggests he knew exactly what impact this revelation would create.
