Page 102 of The Knotheads Next Door
Jasper lunges into the truck, flashing the high beams in a pattern that's probably more alarming than attention-getting, but it does the job. We see Rowan's brake lights flash as she notices the signal.
For one heart-stopping moment, I think she's going to keep driving. The car slows but doesn't immediately turn toward the overlook. I can picture her face, torn between curiosity and self-preservation, between the pull of what we could be and the fear of being hurt again.
"Please," Wells whispers beside me, his usual composed facade completely shattered.
"Please, Rowan."
The universe must hear him, because her car finally signals and begins making its way up the access road toward us.
Relief hits me so hard I actually sway on my feet. She's stopping. She's giving us a chance.
Now we just have to not blow it completely.
"What if she doesn't want this?" Jasper asks suddenly, uncertainty crossing his usually confident face. "What if we're forcing her into something she doesn't actually want?"
"Then we let her go," I say, though the thought physically pains me. "But we at least give her all the information first. We tell her how we feel, what we want. And then... it's her choice."
Jasper nods, squaring his shoulders like he's preparing for battle. Wells straightens his shirt, a nervous gesture I've rarely seen from him. And me? I'm trying to remember how to breathe normally as Rowan's car approaches, gravel crunching under her tires as she pulls into the overlook.
Her car stops about twenty feet away, the engine idling for a long moment before finally cutting off. Through the windshield, I can see her sitting there, hands still on the steering wheel, clearly debating whether to get out or just drive away again.
Please get out, I silently beg. Please give us a chance to fix this.
The driver's door opens slowly, and Rowan steps out, her expression guarded but curious. There's a weariness to her that breaks my heart—shadows under her eyes, tension in her shoulders, wariness in her gaze as it moves between the three of us.
Chapter 31
Rowan
Istep out of my car. My arms crossed over my chest. My heart pounds so hard I'm sure they can hear it, even from twenty feet away.
They look terrible. All three of them. Jasper's hair stands on end like he's been running his hands through it repeatedly. Wells's usually immaculate shirt is wrinkled and half-untucked. Even Theo, normally the most composed, has dark circles under his eyes and a desperate expression I've never seen before.
They're here. They came for me. But why?
"What are you doing here?" I ask, not moving closer, not daring to hope despite the way my omega instincts are screaming to run to them, to bury my face in their scents, to let them surround me with warmth and security.
"We came for you," Theo says, taking a tentative step forward. His voice is gentle but certain, the way it always is when he's saying something he believes with his whole heart. "Because we couldn't let you leave thinking that what happened between us was a mistake. Because the thought of you gone makes everything... wrong. Because we—"
He glances at Jasper and Wells, some silent communication passing between them before he continues.
"Because we love you. All of us. And we want you to stay."
The words hit me like a physical blow. Love. They love me. All of them. The declaration is so unexpected, so contrary to everything I convinced myself was true, that for a moment I can't process it.
But caution—hard-earned and deeply ingrained—reasserts itself quickly.
"I heard what Wells said," I remind them, the hurt still fresh. "That it was a mistake."
Wells steps forward, his usually controlled expression raw with emotion. "That's not what I meant," he says, his voice rougher than I've ever heard it. "I wasn't talking about you, or us, or what happened during your heat. I was talking about how we handled it afterward—pulling away, pretending nothing had changed, hurting you. That was the mistake."
I want to believe him. God, how I want to believe him. But I've spent my life learning that people leave, that vulnerability leads to pain, that it's safer to run than to risk your heart.
"We've been idiots," Jasper adds, the blunt admission so typical of him that it almost makes me smile despite everything. "All of us. Me especially. I got scared. After what happened with Julia, I swore I'd never let myself be vulnerable like that again. But then you came along with your stubborn independence and the way you don't take any of my crap, and suddenly all my carefully built walls meant nothing."
Something warm unfurls in my chest at his words, but I still can't quite bring myself to move closer, to bridge the gap between us.
"So what are you saying, exactly?" I ask, needing clarity, needing certainty before I can even think about letting myself believe in this. "What do you want from me?"
