I don’t know how long I stay there, only that when I finally speak, my voice is quiet but sure.
“Finn?”
He hums, never looking away.
“You know you’re part of this pack now, right?”
His pencil stops.
Then he nods once. “I knew before you did.”
The smellof garlic and roasted tomatoes hits me the second I step out of the shower from rinsing off, my hair dripping down my back. My skin is still warm from the bath Finn ran for me, and I’m soft, loose, and happy in a way I wasn’t sure was possible.
I pad barefoot toward the kitchen, drawn by the glow and the sound of low laughter.
I pause in the doorway.
Carson and Landon are shoulder-to-shoulder at the stove, moving around each other and working in sync. Landon stirsthe sauce, tasting and adjusting with a little shake of oregano, while Carson chops herbs with an exaggerated flourish, spinning the knife in his hand like some show-off culinary gymnast.
“You’re going to lose a finger,” Landon mutters, though his lips are curved.
Carson smirks. “Jealous because I make it look easy?”
“I’m jealous because I don’t want to explain to Willow why her bodyguard can’t play piano anymore. And we have to spend the night in the ER.”
Carson scoffs. “Who says I can play piano?”
I have to press a hand to my mouth to keep from giggling.
Hunter and Graham are at the counter, plating salads and arguing over the ratio of dressing to greens.
“She’s not going to notice the salad,” Graham grumbles. “You two have basically cooked a feast for a queen.”
Hunter drizzles a little more dressing anyway. “She’s our queen.”
Heat flares in my chest at that, but I stay quiet, just soaking it in—the swirl of voices, the clash of personalities, all orbiting the same sun.
Behind me, Finn appears silently, a shadow and a presence all at once, camera slung around his neck. He rests his chin on my shoulder, warm and familiar, as his arms come around my waist.
“Looks right, doesn’t it?” he murmurs.
I nod, a smile pulling at my lips. “It really does.” We watch them for a few more minutes before joining them.
When I finally step into the kitchen, four heads turn toward me. Landon brightens instantly. “Perfect timing. Taste test?”
I slide between him and Carson. Landon lifts a spoonful of sauce toward my lips, and I hum as it hits my tongue—tangy, sweet, perfect.
Carson grins triumphantly. “See? That’s the noise Landon’s been chasing all day.”
“Not denying it, but I’m pretty sure you also wanted to hear it,” Landon says, smirking. “I’ve decided we’re cooking for her forever.”
From the other side of the counter, Finn leans his hip against a stool and says softly, “I could get used to this.”
It’s the way he says it, quiet, content, talking to himself more than anyone, that makes Graham pause. He reaches across the counter, tilts Finn’s chin up with two fingers, and brushes a slow, soft kiss against his mouth.
Finn freezes, then melts. When they part, Hunter leans over and presses his own quick kiss to Finn’s jaw, grinning. “That’s for talking like you belong here. You do.”
He hums with happiness.
