Page 78 of The Knotheads Next Door
I stay until her breathing evens out, until I'm certain she's asleep. Only then do I allow myself to leave, slipping quietly from the room with the scent of her still clinging to my skin, my clothes, embedded in my memory in a way I know will haunt me.
Downstairs, Jasper paces the living room like a caged animal, agitation rolling off him in waves. Wells sits in his usual chair, outwardly calm but with a tension in his shoulders that betrays his own inner conflict.
They both look up when I enter, questions in their eyes that they're too proud or too uncertain to voice.
"She's sleeping," I tell them, answering the most pressing concern first. "The scent-marking helped, temporarily at least."
"Scent-marking," Jasper repeats, the words sharp with something like accusation. "That's what you're calling it?"
"That's what it was," I say firmly, refusing to rise to the bait. "Nothing more."
"This time," he counters, but there's more resignation than anger in his tone now.
"We need a plan," Wells interjects, ever practical. "Her heat could last days. We can't keep improvising."
He's right, of course. What just happened—the comfort I offered, the boundary I nearly crossed—was a stopgap measure. A temporary solution to a situation that requires more thought, more structure, more... honesty than any of us have been willing to offer so far.
Because this isn't just about Rowan's heat anymore. It's about the feelings that have been building between all of us for weeks. The attraction, the connection, the sense of rightness that defies logical explanation.
It's about the fact that in just six days, Rowan is supposed to leave. To walk away from whatever this is becoming. To return to being a stranger when she already feels like... pack.
"We need to talk to her," I say finally. "When she's lucid again. About all of it. About what happens after her trial month ends."
Jasper stops pacing, his expression unreadable. "You think she'd consider staying."
It's not a question, but I answer anyway. "I think we all need to be honest about what we want. For once."
Wells's gaze is steady, assessing. "And what do you want, Theo?"
The question hangs in the air, weighted with implications that could change everything. I think of Rowan in my arms, of the way she trusted me despite her fierce independence, of the connection I felt that transcended mere biology or instinct.
"I want her to stay," I admit finally, the truth I've been avoiding for weeks. "As part of this. Part of us. However that looks."
Neither of them seems surprised by my confession. If anything, there's a sense of relief in the room, as if by voicing what we've all been feeling, I've given permission for something long denied.
"Six days," Wells says quietly. "We have six days to figure this out."
Six days to help Rowan through her heat. Six days to find the courage to offer her more than temporary relief. Six days to see if what's been building between all of us is strong enough to risk everything for.
Six days that suddenly feel like both an eternity and not nearly enough time.
Chapter 24
Wells
Before Rowan Whitley upended my carefully ordered existence with her stubborn independence and vulnerable eyes, and with the way her scent seems designed specifically to drive me to distraction. I excelled at compartmentalization. But that was then, and this is now.
"Wells? Are you even listening?"
I blink, focusing on Mayor Tillie, who's staring at me with unusual concern from across her desk. The Harvest Festival is in full swing outside the windows of Town Hall, and I should be reviewing vendor complaints and security reports, not thinking about Rowan in the throes of her first heat, face flushed, eyes dilated, body calling to mine in ways I refuse to acknowledge.
"Of course," I lie smoothly. "The issue with the parking overflow."
Tillie's eyes narrow slightly. "That was ten minutes ago. I've moved on to the lighting issue at the pavilion."
"Right." I glance down at my tablet, where I should have been taking notes. The screen has gone dark from inactivity. "Thecircuit breaker keeps tripping. I'll have maintenance look at it immediately."
"I already told you I've handled it," she says, leaning forward with that penetrating gaze that makes it seem like she can read minds. "Wells Roman, I have known you for three years, and I have never seen you like this. Distracted. Unfocused. Dare I say... emotional?"
