Page 161 of Lilacs and Whiskey

"I think I already have." I said quietly, and meant it. The rest of the day passed the way days did now — slow and easy, filled with small moments that added up to something bigger. Riding out with Reid to check on the cattle, his solid presence beside me, his rare laugh when I made a joke about his hat. Helping Nolan in the garden, our hands dirty with soil, the sun warm on our backs. Finding Kol in the barn working on what turned out to be a birdhouse, paint on his nose and sawdust in his hair, his grin bright when I told him it was beautiful even though it was clearly lopsided. Sitting on the porch at sunset with Sawyer, not talking, just watching the sky turn orange and pink and purple, his hand wrapped around mine.

Dinner was noisy and warm, Nolan's soup as good as always, Kol stealing vegetables off Sawyer's plate until Sawyer threatened to stab him with a fork. Reid told a story about something that happened with the cattle that made everyonelaugh, even Sawyer, his rare smile transforming his scarred face into something almost soft.

And later, when the dishes were done and the house was quiet, we piled back into the nest — the five of us fitting together like puzzle pieces, like we'd been doing this our whole lives, like we'd been made for exactly this.

"Good day?" Reid's voice was low, his lips brushing my temple, his body warm and solid behind me.

"Good day." I agreed, already drowsy, wrapped in their scents and their warmth and the steady hum of four bonds in my chest.

Kol was already snoring softly at my feet, one hand curled around my ankle. Nolan was pressed against my front, his breathing slow and even, his hand over my heart. Sawyer was at my back with Reid, a solid wall of protection, his scarred arm draped over all of us.

I closed my eyes and let the warmth carry me toward sleep, let the sounds of their breathing fill my ears, let the feeling of home settle into my bones. This was what I'd been looking for, all those years on the road.

Not a place. Not safety. Not even love, though I'd found all of those things here.

I'd been looking for somewhere I fit. Somewhere I was wanted. Somewhere I could stop running.

And I'd found it.

Here, in this nest, in this house, on this ranch.

Here, with them.

I was truly home.