Page 107 of The Knotheads Next Door
"Are you okay?" Theo asks softly, his voice barely audible. "All of you?"
"Perfect," Rowan murmurs against my chest, her words vibrating through my skin. "Absolutely perfect."
"Better than okay," Wells agrees, his usual precise language softened by the contentment he must feel.
I press a kiss to the top of her head, breathing in the scent of all of us mingled together.
"This is right," I say quietly. "All of this. Us."
"Yeah," she says, and I can hear the smile in her voice. "It really is."
As sleep begins to claim us all, I let myself feel the full weight of what we've built. A family. A future.
And for the first time in longer than I can remember, I'm not worried about what comes next. Because whatever it is, we'll face it together.
I wake before dawn, momentarily disoriented by the weight of bodies around me. Theo has somehow migrated half on top of me during the night, one leg thrown over mine, his face pressed against my shoulder. Rowan is nestled between us, her back to my side, while Wells maintains the smallest point of contact—his hand still holding hers even in sleep.
Rowan stirs, her eyes fluttering open to meet mine in the dim light. There's a moment of confusion, followed by remembrance, followed by a slow, sleepy smile that makes my chest ache with emotions I'm still learning to name.
"Morning," she whispers, careful not to wake the others.
"Morning," I reply, my voice rougher than intended. "Sleep okay?"
She nods, shifting slightly to see me better without dislodging Theo or releasing Wells's hand. "Better than I have in... maybe ever."
The simple admission hits harder than any grand declaration of love could have. Because I understand exactly what she means—the bone-deep rest that comes from feeling truly safe for perhaps the first time ever.
"Yeah," I agree softly. "Me too."
Her phone buzzes from somewhere in the tangle of discarded clothing on the floor. With impressive flexibility, she manages to extract herself enough to reach it without fully leaving the nest we've created.
A smile spreads across her face as she reads the screen. "The Welcome Committee has questions," she says, showing me a series of texts from Lala, Avianna, and Billie in what appears to be a group chat titled "Rowan's Rescue Rangers."
LALA: Harvest closing ceremony's not over yet!! You better bring your pack to the festival, officially. Town's DYING to meet them properly.
AVIANNA: By "town" she means herself. She has a betting pool going on which alpha you claimed first.
BILLIE: Ignore them. But also yes please come. We miss you. ??
"Should we wake the others?" Rowan asks, glancing at Theo's still-sleeping form and Wells's barely-stirring presence. "Tell them we've been summoned?"
I consider the warm tangle of limbs, the peace on faces that have carried too much tension for too long, the simple perfection of this moment that feels like the beginning of something I never thought I'd have.
"They can wait," I decide, pulling her closer. "The town gossips have survived this long. They can manage another hour."
She settles back against me with a contented sigh, and I allow myself to imagine a future full of mornings like this—Rowan in my arms, Theo and Wells nearby, our scents mingled in the air, our lives intertwined in ways I'm still discovering.
My pack. My family. My home.
For the first time in my life, I believe in all three.
Chapter 33
Rowan
The Harvest Festival is still in full swing as we approach the town square, orange and yellow fairy lights twinkling in the trees like captured stars, music floating through the evening air, the scent of fried food and cinnamon sugar mingling with the natural crispness of fall. But it's not the decorations or the crowds that make my heart race tonight.
It's the three alphas walking in beside me—Jasper's hand resting possessively at my waist, his thumb occasionally brushing against the sliver of skin where my top has ridden up. Theo's arm brushes mine with each step, a casual contact that somehow feels more intimate than the passionate moments we shared last night. Wells walks with newfound ease behind me, his usual rigid posture softened, his scent relaxed in a way I've rarely witnessed.
