Page 17 of The Knotheads Next Door
Not now. Not today. Today is for new beginnings, not old wounds.
But as I walk back through the picture-perfect streets of Vineyard Groves, her words echo in my mind.Things about James, about your condition.
What does my biological father have to do with the fact that I've never presented? And why does it suddenly matter now, after twenty-eight years of nothing?
Whatever it is, it can wait. I have alphas to avoid, flowers to arrange, and a life to rebuild.
One day at a time.
Chapter 6
Jasper
Idon't like change, never have. I've spent the last three years carefully arranging my life into something that makes sense. This house. My business. My pack—even if Theo and Wells would roll their eyes at me.
And now there's Rowan.
She's standing in my kitchen at 6:45 AM, stretching to reach the coffee mugs on the top shelf. My kitchen. Her golden curls are loose today, puffing out around her, and she's wearing sweatpants and an oversized T-shirt with some faded band logo. She looks soft, sleep-rumpled, and completely at home.
It pisses me off.
Theo's already at the table, scrolling through his phone while shoveling cereal into his mouth. Wells's making his pretentious pour-over coffee, his shirt neatly pressed, his hair already styled, because he's the kind of person who's never met a morning he couldn't optimize.
They both look up when I enter, but Rowan doesn't. She continues stretching for the mug, her shirt riding up to reveal a sliver of light brown skin. I clear my throat. Loudly.
She turns, mug finally in hand, and meets my eyes with a directness that sets my teeth on edge. No ducking her head, no looking away first. Just steady eye contact, like we're equals here.
"Morning," she says, her voice still rough with sleep.
I grunt in response.
"Use your words, Jasper," Theo chides without looking up from his phone. "We've talked about this."
"Morning," I mutter, brushing past Rowan to get to the coffee. I can feel her watching me, like a physical touch on the back of my neck. "You're up early."
"New day," she says, stepping aside to let me access the coffee maker. She's at least smart enough not to get between an alpha and his caffeine. "Thought I'd get an early start."
"Hmm." I pour myself a mug, then remember something. "House rules."
She raises an eyebrow. "I read the laminated sheet in the bathroom, if that's what you mean."
"Beyond that," I say, turning to face her fully. "No drama. No bringing your problems home. No flirting with any of us. No special demands."
Wells looks up from his fancy coffee setup. "Jasper—"
"It's fine," Rowan says, waving him off. Her mouth curves into a smile that doesn't reach her eyes. "I solemnly swear not to flutter my eyelashes, cry publicly, or ask for the moon on a leash. Will that work for you, or should I sign something in blood?"
Theo snorts into his cereal. Even Wells's lips twitch.
I narrow my eyes. "This isn't a joke."
"Of course not," she agrees, her tone suggesting the exact opposite. "Deadly serious. No drama. No flirting. No..." She pauses, tilting her head. "What was the other thing? Oh right, no special demands. Like asking to use the coffee maker, which I now see is clearly labeled 'Jasper's Precious.'"
Theo is openly grinning now. "She's got you there, Jas."
"Shut up," I growl, but there's no real heat in it. I'm too busy noticing something else—Rowan's scent. It's... different today. Still muted by blockers, still not quite alpha or beta or omega, but with an undercurrent of something warm and spiced, like cinnamon or cloves.
I shake the thought away. It's just my imagination, or maybe she used different soap. It doesn't matter.
