Which left me in the kitchen with Nolan and Kol.
"I should check on the animals." Nolan was drying his hands on a dish towel, his movements unhurried as he hung it back on its hook. His green eyes found mine, soft and inviting, his sandy hair catching the morning light streaming through the window. "You could come with me. If you want."
"Or you could help me with dishes." Kol was already elbow-deep in soapy water at the sink, scrubbing at a pan with more enthusiasm than technique. He shot me a grin over his shoulder, soap bubbles clinging to his forearms, his amber eyes bright with mischief. "I promise not to splash you. Much."
I looked between them—Nolan's gentle invitation, Kol's playful one. Two different offers. Two different ways of getting to know them.
"Dishes." I heard myself say, the word coming out before I'd fully decided. "Then animals?" Nolan's smile was warm, approving, crinkling the corners of his green eyes.
"Sounds perfect." His voice was soft, pleased, and he nodded once before heading toward the back door, his movements easy and unhurried. "I'll be in the clinic when you're ready."
Kol whooped, splashing water everywhere, droplets flying across the counter and hitting the window.
"Yes!" His voice was triumphant, echoing off the kitchen walls, his whole body practically vibrating with delight. He gestured grandly toward the sink, soap suds dripping from his fingers, his grin wide enough to show all his teeth. "Welcome to dish duty. I'll teach you everything I know."
"That won't take long." Nolan's voice drifted back from the doorway, dry and teasing, before the screen door banged shut behind him.
Kol made an offended noise, clutching his chest dramatically, and I found myself laughing again. This was going to be an adjustment. All of it—the closeness, the chaos, the overwhelming feeling of being wanted. Standing in that warm kitchen, surrounded by their mingled scents, watching Kol try to build a soap bubble mountain while defending his honor.
I wanted more mornings like this.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
ASTER
The fire crackled in the stone fireplace, casting dancing shadows across the living room walls. I was curled up on one end of the worn leather couch, a mug of tea warming my hands, watching the flames lick at the logs. Dinner had been simple—pot roast that had been simmering all day, potatoes, fresh bread that Nolan had pulled from the oven just as we sat down. I'd eaten until I was full, really full, for the first time in longer than I could remember.
Now the dishes were done, the kitchen cleaned, and somehow I'd ended up here instead of walking back to the bunkhouse. No one had asked me to stay. No one had pressured. I'd just... stayed.
Reid was in the armchair closest to the fire, his long legs stretched out in front of him, a glass of whiskey dangling from his fingers. The firelight caught the silver threading through his dark hair, softened the hard lines of his weathered face. He looked relaxed in a way I hadn't seen before—the constanttension in his broad shoulders finally eased, his dark eyes warm as they watched the flames dance.
Nolan sat on the other end of my couch, close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from him, far enough that I didn't feel crowded. He had a book in his lap, though he hadn't turned a page in twenty minutes. His green eyes kept drifting to me, soft and watchful, his sandy hair glowing gold in the firelight.
Kol was sprawled on the floor in front of the hearth like a contented cat, lying on his stomach with his chin propped on his hands. His honey-blond hair was tousled and falling across his forehead, his amber eyes reflecting the flames, his whole body loose and relaxed in a way his restless energy rarely allowed.
Sawyer had claimed the other armchair, positioned slightly back from the group, half-hidden in shadow. He had a beer in his hand that he hadn't touched in half an hour, and his pale blue eyes were watchful, tracking the room with that quiet intensity of his. His auburn hair looked almost black in the dim light, his copper stubble catching glints of orange from the fire.
It was peaceful. Warm. The kind of evening I'd imagined other people had—the kind I'd never let myself believe I could be part of.
"So." Kol's voice broke the comfortable silence, and he rolled onto his side to look up at me, propping his head on his hand. His amber eyes were curious but gentle, unusually careful, his usual bouncing energy banked to something softer. His free hand picked absently at a loose thread on the rug, nervous energy finding a quiet outlet. "Can I ask you something? You don't have to answer if you don't want to."
My hands tightened on my mug, an automatic response to the shift in atmosphere.
"You can ask." My voice came out steadier than I expected, though my fingers still gripped the warm ceramic like a lifeline.I kept my eyes on the fire, letting the heat of it seep into my skin, grounding myself. "Doesn't mean I'll answer, but you can ask."
"Fair enough." Kol sat up slowly, crossing his legs beneath him, his movements deliberately unhurried, giving me time to adjust to his closer position. His amber eyes found mine, bright with firelight and something that looked like genuine care, his head tilting slightly to one side like a curious puppy. "Where did you come from? Before here, I mean. Before Thornwood."
The question hung in the air, heavy despite Kol's gentle delivery. I could feel the others' attention shifting toward me—not demanding, just present. Waiting.
I took a breath. Let it out slowly.
"Everywhere." The word scraped out of my throat like sandpaper, rough and raw. I stared into my tea, watching the steam curl upward in lazy spirals, avoiding their eyes. "Nowhere. I've been moving for... nine years, give or take. Never stayed anywhere long."
"Why?" Kol's voice was barely above a whisper, his amber eyes wide and liquid with emotion, his whole body leaning toward me like he could absorb my pain if he just got close enough. His scent—orange blossoms and warm honey—intensified, wrapping around me in a wave of comfort. His hands had stilled on his knees, fingers curled tight.
"Kol." Reid's voice was a low warning from his armchair, not harsh but firm, cutting through the quiet with quiet authority. His dark eyes had sharpened, flicking to the younger Alpha with a silent reminder to tread carefully, his weathered face stern but not unkind.
"It's okay." I surprised myself by saying it, surprised myself more by meaning it. I looked up from my mug, meeting Kol's eyes first, then letting my gaze travel to each of them in turn—Reid's steady watchfulness, Nolan's gentle concern, Sawyer'squiet attention. "You shared with me. This morning, and... and before. It's only fair."
