Page 109 of The Knotheads Next Door
"Did you know this would happen?" I ask Theo quietly as another well-wisher—someone I've never even met—offers congratulations and a slightly too-personal question about our sleeping arrangements that Theo deflects with practiced ease.
"Not exactly," he admits, his arm comfortably around my shoulders. "But this towns love any excuse for celebration, but I think this is as much a relief as anything else. The tension between the four of us these past few weeks was making everyone nervous."
"Sexual tension, specifically," Jasper adds bluntly, overhearing our conversation. "Lala told me yesterday that if we didn't sort it out soon, she was going to lock all four of us in the bakery freezer until we did."
"That seems... extreme," I say, trying and failing to suppress a smile at the image.
"That's Lala," Wells observes dryly. " About as subtle as a hammer to the face."
"But effective," Theo points out with a grin.
The festival becomes a celebration—not just of fall and the harvest season, but of us. Of this pack formed through choice. Through love. The band plays slower songs, couples and packs drifting to the makeshift dance floor in the center of the square. Theo gets pulled into a conversation with a family whose dog he recently treated, his patient, attentive manner making their small daughter giggle as he kneels to her level to explain her puppy's recovery.
Jasper reluctantly accepts congratulations from neighbors whose houses he's renovated, his usual gruff demeanor softening just enough to be almost sociable. Wells is cornered by festival committee members, his tablet appearing from some hidden pocket as he fields questions about final logistics even now, unable to fully set aside his responsibilities despite the personal milestone we're celebrating.
I find myself with a moment to breathe, to absorb the reality of what's happening. My gaze drifts across the square, taking in the twinkling lights, the colorful trees, the community that has somehow, in just a few short weeks, become mine.
That's when I see her, standing on the other side of the dance floor. My mother, watching me with a mixture of hope and hesitation on her face. Pops stands beside her, his hand supportive on her back.
They don't approach, don't pressure, don't intrude on this moment that belongs to my new pack. Just offer a small, soft smile that carries the weight of apology and love and acceptance all at once.
And for the first time since that explosive revelation about James, I don't feel the surge of anger, of betrayal, of hurt that's been my constant companion. Instead, I find myself nodding back, a simple acknowledgment that maybe, just maybe, there's a path forward for us too.
Not today, but someday.
Arms slide around my waist from behind, and I know without looking that it's Wells, his bergamot-and-paper scent now as familiar to me as my own. His chin rests lightly on my shoulder, a public display of affection that would have been unthinkable from controlled, reserved Wells just days ago.
"You okay?" he asks, his voice low in my ear.
I lean back against him, letting myself be held, letting myself trust the security of his embrace. "Better than okay."
His lips brush my temple, a gesture so tender it makes my heart ache. "You're finally home, sweetheart."
The endearment, so uncharacteristic of usually formal Wells, brings unexpected tears to my eyes. Because he's right—I am home. Not just in Vineyard Groves with its seasonal festivals and nosy neighbors and tight-knit community. But in this pack, with these three alphas who somehow manage to be exactly what I never knew I needed.
Theo rejoins us, his smile as warm as sunshine as he takes in Wells's arms around me. Jasper follows, his expression softening in that way it only does when he looks at the three of us. He slides his hand into mine, the calluses from years of carpentry work rough against my skin in a way that grounds me, reminds me that this is real, not some fever dream or heat-induced fantasy.
"Dance with me?" Theo suggests as the band starts a new song, something slow and sweet that seems to wrap around us like a promise.
"Which one of you?" I ask, genuinely curious how this works in a pack of four.
Jasper's laugh is low and rich. "All of us, sunshine. That's kind of the point."
And so we do—moving together to the gentle sway of the music, not caring about the curious eyes or the whispered comments or the clear novelty of three alphas and an omega moving in perfect harmony. Because this, finally, is where I belong.
The festival continues around us—music playing, people dancing, the celebration of spring and renewal in full swing. But in this moment, standing in the circle of my pack's presence, I'm celebrating something else entirely.
The end of running. The beginning of staying.
The sweet, terrifying, exhilarating certainty of finally being exactly where I belong.
Epilogue
Rowan
One Month Later
I wake to sunlight streaming through curtains we forgot to close last night, the warmth of three bodies surrounding me. Theo's arm is draped across my waist, his face buried in my head scarf. Jasper takes up a disproportionate amount of space, as always, one leg thrown over mine, his chest rising and falling in the deep rhythm of sleep. Wells, ever the early riser, is already stirring, though his hand remains clasped in mine even as consciousness pulls him reluctantly from dreams.
