Page 63 of Knot By Design
“What happened?” he asks, guiding me toward the kitchen.
“Wren?” My voice barely works.
“She’s in the shower,” he says, already reaching for a mug. “But you can sit. Please. Sit.”
I sink into the chair at their kitchen table, the wood warm under my palms. I don’t realize I’m shaking until he wraps both hands around the mug and sets it in front of me. The steam smells like chamomile and honey.
I try to smile. I try so damn hard. “I made tea at home. Forgot to drink it.”
Levi’s eyes soften. “Take your time. I’ll go get her.”
The moment he leaves, Pancake trots in like he owns the entire house—as he should. The little tabby hops onto a chair, then onto the table, then walks straight into my lap, curling against me without hesitation.
“Hi, sweet boy,” I whisper, stroking his fur.
He purrs instantly. Loudly. Like he knows exactly how much I need the sound.
The kitchen smells like cinnamon rolls and fresh coffee. There’s a blanket tossed over the back of a chair, one of Wren’s sketchbooks left open on the counter, Beau’s boots by the door, Levi’s hoodie thrown over a barstool.
This house always feels like life—full, warm, overflowing.
Safe.
I bury my face in Pancake’s fur and breathe. Just breathe.
I don’t even get five minutes before the soft pad of footsteps pulls my gaze up. Pancake jumps down at the sound.
Wren walks into the kitchen wearing her robe, towel twisted around her hair, skin still rosy from the shower.
Her eyes widen. “Babe? Oh my god.”
I’m on my feet before I register moving. She reaches me fast, arms wrapping around me, pulling me in. I fold into her like I’m collapsing inward.
Her smell—coffee, sugar, the hint of her mates’ scent—wraps around me, and my chest crumples.
“I’m sorry,” I choke. “Is this a bad time?”
“Hey—no,” she murmurs, cupping the back of my head. “It’s never a bad time. You walk into my house whenever you want. You know that.”
She guides me toward the sofa like I’m breakable. I might be.
We curl into the corner together, and she pulls the soft gray throw over both our laps. Pancake hops up and wedges himself between us like the emotional support animal he absolutely is.
Five seconds later, Beau and Simon walk out of the hallway, both with wet hair, Simon still tugging on his shirt.
Beau lifts a hand. “Hey, Norah.” Simon adds, “Morning, Norah.”
It hits me belatedly—they were all in the shower. All of them. Together. I’ve interrupted… something.
“I can come back later,” I start, mortified.
“No,” Wren says instantly. “You’re not going anywhere.” She looks over her shoulder. “Babe? Tea?”
Beau moves like she just announced she’s in labor. Levi appears from nowhere with the kettle already in his hand.
Simon sets the mug on the table before Beau even reaches it. Then all three of them hover until Wren gives them a soft nod.
Simon leans down and kisses the top of her head. “I’m heading to work. Text me.”
