The first thingI register is warmth.
Not just from the blanket tangled around my legs, but from the bodies draped over and under and around me.
Someone’s hand is curled beneath my breast, fingers twitching against my skin, while they dream. His knuckles graze my ribs with every breath, a phantom echo of last night’s rhythm. There’s a leg hooked over mine, and a chest pressed to my back, rising and falling in a rhythm that lulls more than it suffocates.
We’re a mess of limbs and slow breaths. Of skin and soft exhales, and the kind of quiet that only comes after something real.
I blink my eyes open slowly. The curtains are drawn, but golden morning light edges through the seam, brushing everything in gold. Finn’s hair is a tangle of dark strands against the pillow beside me, his lips parted slightly, lashes casting shadows on his cheeks. He looks peaceful. Almost innocent. Like he wasn’t begging and breathless just hours ago.
Carson’s behind him, one arm wrapped tight around hiswaist, their legs entwined. Carson’s head rests just above Finn’s shoulder, a lazy smile lingering on his mouth even in sleep.
Hunter is still behind me, chest to my back, hand still splayed low on my stomach. His breath ghosts across my neck, steady. Comforting. His presence is so constant, a second heartbeat against my skin.
And Graham’s the only one awake. Of course he is. He’s always the one holding the line when the rest of us fall apart. He’s the quiet strength in the storm.
Propped against the headboard, a pillow behind him, one arm draped around me, where my head rests against his thigh. His fingers comb gently through my hair, slow and patient, cataloging every strand. Watching over us all.
I tilt my head back to meet his gaze.
He doesn’t smile, not exactly, but his eyes soften.
“Morning,” I whisper, voice thick with sleep.
“Hey,” he murmurs. “You okay?”
I nod, too full and too content to say anything else.
He keeps stroking my hair, slow and unhurried. No expectations. No pressure.
And it hits me all at once—what we are building here. What we’re becoming. Not just something physical. Not just heat and need and chemistry.
But trust.
Pack.
Home.
It should scare me how fast this is shifting. How deep it already runs. But all I feel is calm. I’ve finally stopped running.
I close my eyes again, letting it settle deep in my chest. We can face anything, so long as we wake up like this. Together.
“Are you going to be able to skate today?” he asks.
I keep my eyes shut, but smile. “Of course, I’m going to be sore afterwards, but that doesn’t scare me.”
He trails his fingers along my ear, to my jaw, and I peek up at him. He flicks his gaze to Finn and back to me. “It looks like your stalker might become a permanent fixture in our pack. He’s not what I thought?—”
“No, he’s not,” I reply. I glance toward Finn as I say it, brushing a knuckle along his cheekbone before meeting Graham’s eyes again. “He’s broken, yeah. But in a way that makes me want to stitch the pieces back together. I’m really glad you didn’t kick him out last night.”
He huffs a quiet laugh. “I don’t think I would have been strong enough to do that. You and Carson were in it when we walked in.”
“I didn’t plan it,” I say automatically.
“Yeah, I know. That would be all Carson. He knew that Finn would seek you out when you left the pool alone. And we thought it would be the perfect opportunity to see if this was something you really wanted.”
I press a kiss to the inside of his thigh, just above the scar I noticed weeks ago but never asked about. Not out of fear. Out of respect. “Thank you...for trusting my instincts.”
“I’m still not one hundred percent convinced,” he says.
