Page 53 of Down Knot Out (Pack Alphas of Misty Pines #3)

“What concerns me most is that Sadie hasn’t called or texted. Not once. Just that one email.” Blake’s jaw tightens. “It’s not her style. I can usually get a read on my sister well before I talk to her, but she’s playing things close to the chest this time.”

Holden’s hands still in the soapy water. “You think she’s not being genuine?”

Blake shrugs, but the movement lacks his usual ease. “I don’t know. That’s what bothers me. Sadie is many things, but formal isn’t one of them. And the language in that email about ‘seeking reconciliation’ and ‘demonstrating commitment to sobriety’… That’s not how my sister talks.”

Dominic sets his empty glass on the counter. “Could be the rehab center’s influence. Sometimes recovery programs have specific language they encourage.”

“Or it could be another performance,” Blake counters, his features hardening. “She’s given plenty of those over the years.”

Chloe shifts in her seat, wincing as her body reminds her of the past three days. “Have you heard anything from your father since she left rehab?”

Blake’s laugh holds no humor. “Dad’s been radio silent since I took Quinn.”

I study my bondmate, noting the tension in his shoulders and the way his fingers tap his mug. The bond between us thrums with his anxiety, a dissonant note in our newfound harmony.

“Is there anything specific you want to hear from her?” I ask. “What would convince you her sobriety is real this time?”

“Aside from actually staying sober?” Blake stares out the window, his profile outlined by the morning light. “I want her to remember Quinn’s birthday. I want to hear her acknowledge what she did, not dance around it with recovery buzzwords.”

He swallows hard. “I want her to tell me she understands why I took Quinn. Why I couldn’t leave her there anymore.”

Holden dries his hands on a towel. “We should prepare for both outcomes. Hope without expectation.”

“Holden’s right. We plan for the best version of this visit while preparing for the worst.” My fingers move across my phone screen, opening a new document. “Let’s map out what we define as success or failure, and how we respond to each.”

“Success is Sadie sober. It’s her wanting to participate in Quinn’s life in a healthy way,” Dominic offers. “Failure is her showing up high. Continuing to make promises she can’t or won’t keep.”

Chloe slides off her stool to walk around to Blake’s side and burrows under his arm until he softens and holds her. “I’ll be nearby if things go sideways. We all will.”

Fierce protectiveness for our pack travels through our newly formed bond.

Blake buries his face in Chloe’s hair, his next words sounding muffled, “What if she wants to take Quinn back?”

“She can’t,” Dominic says firmly. “You have temporary custody. She’d need to petition the court, prove sobriety over time, establish stability?—”

“But eventually,” Blake cuts in, “if she stays clean long enough?—”

“Then we deal with that when it happens,” I interrupt. “Right now, we focus on tomorrow. One step at a time.”

Holden moves to stand behind Blake, hands settling on his shoulders. “Quinn is thriving here, thanks to you. All we can do is hope that Sadie will see that this is what’s best for Quinn.”

Blake’s throat works. “Yeah.”

Chloe squeezes Blake’s hand. “And if she doesn’t, we show Quinn we’re willing to fight for her.”

The bonds between us pulse in agreement, five heartbeats finding synchronicity. This is what pack means, facing threats as one and protecting our own.

“All right.” Blake straightens. “If Sadie’s really in recovery, I want to support that. For Quinn’s sake, and for hers.”

“We should also try to document conversations or interactions,” Chloe says slowly, “both positive and negative between Quinn and Sadie.”

I add to the notes in my phone. “We set boundaries and make our expectations clear. We watch for warning signs. And we protect Quinn, no matter what.”

“And if Sadie’s not ready?” Dominic asks the question we’re all thinking.

Blake’s jaw sets, determination hardening his features. “Then we send her back to whatever recovery program she came from and tell her to try again when she’s serious.”

“That’s fair,” I agree. “Compassionate but firm. ”

Chloe wraps her arms around his waist, resting her cheek over his heart. “Whatever happens, she doesn’t get to hurt either of you again.”

Blake relaxes into Chloe and Holden’s embrace.

“Let’s start with arrivals.” My finger rests poised over my phone screen. “Blake, where do you want this meeting to happen?”

As we begin mapping out tomorrow’s visit, minute by minute, contingency by contingency, the bond between us strengthens.

The horn of the golf cart toots from outside, followed by Sprinkles’s loud bark, and the conversation about Sadie halts mid-sentence, our heads turning toward the front windows.

Chloe tumbles from her stool, Blake’s T-shirt sliding off one shoulder to reveal my claim mark. She stares down at her bare legs, then our bare chests, and turns bright pink. “Oh my goodness! They’re back, and we’re naked!”

Dominic laughs and slides off his stool. “You need to look up the definition of naked .”

From the laundry basket he left by the door, he pulls out a pair of leggings and tosses them to her. I catch the T-shirt he throws at me next and yank it over my head as the front door bangs open.

“Uncle Blake!” Quinn shrieks at the top of her lungs, accompanied by the scramble of dog claws on hardwood. “Uncle Nat, Uncle Dom, Uncle Holden, Aunt Chloe!”

Holden puts on his shirt backward in his haste, the tag poking at the underside of his chin before he spins it around.

“Where are you guys?” Quinn’s feet race toward the kitchen.

Chloe yanks on her leggings, feet kicking. She yanks them up, and Dominic slides on his shirt, getting one button fastened before Quinn shoves open the door in a whirlwind of energy and noise.

Her curls are tangled with what appears to be seaweed, her pink rubber boots leaving muddy prints across the floor, her face flushed with excitement.

“We caught a fish this big!” She flings out her arms to show the size and almost punches Dominic in the groin.

He dances out of the danger zone, half turning away as he works on the rest of his buttons.

In her excitement, Quinn doesn’t notice. “Uncle Kyle let me reel it in all by myself!”

Chloe yanks the collar of her shirt back into place. “That sounds amazing! What kind of fish was it?”

“A salmon!” Quinn’s near-screech echoes in the kitchen. “And Grady screamed when it flopped in the boat!”

The door pushes open wider as Grady himself appears, a cane clutched in his hand. His pristine appearance has suffered a severe downgrade, with mud splattered on his designer jeans and hair sticking up at odd angles.

“I d-did not ssscream,” he corrects. “I expressed reasonable sssurprise at an unexpected movement.”

“You screamed like a little girl,” Kyle counters, hauling in a heavy cooler to thunk down on the counter. “Loud enough to scare away every fish in the lake.”

Quinn spins in a circle, arms still extended. “And then we caught another one, but it was only this big.” She brings her hands closer together, though the distance would still indicate an impressive catch.

Blake crosses the room and scoops her up, ignoring the mud transferring to his clothes. “Sounds like you had quite the adventure, princess.”

She throws her arms around his neck, leaving a streak of dirt across his cheek. “Uncle Kyle says I’m a natural! And Sprinkles tried to swim after a duck, but Grady grabbed his collar, and then he fell in the water and his phone got all wet and he said bad words.”

Grady clears his throat. “Perhaps we could focus on the positive aspects of the trip?”

“Like the fish?” Dominic moves to inspect the cooler.

“Like how Quinn didn’t fall in the water once, unlike some adults already mentioned.” Kyle takes off his cap to rub his sunburnt pate as he smirks at Grady.

Quinn wiggles out of Blake’s arms and races to Chloe. “Aunt Chloe! I wrote a story about the fish in my notebook! Wanna see?”

“I would love to see your story,” Chloe says with such genuine enthusiasm that Quinn vibrates with happiness.

“It’s in my backpack. And I drew pictures!” Quinn spins around, searching for her bag. “Uncle Kyle, where’s my backpack?”

“Still in the golf cart.” Putting his cap back on, he turns and heads for the door. “I’ll grab it.”

Quinn tugs on Chloe’s hand. “You have to see the pictures. I drew the fish with all its scales. Grady helped me count them.”

“All thousand of them,” Grady mutters, but his exasperation can’t hide his fondness.

Holden steps forward with a dish towel. “We should get you cleaned up first, Quinn. You’ve got half the ocean in your hair.”

She touches her tangled curls, finding the strand of seaweed. “Oh! I forgot about that. We were collecting specimens.”

“Specimens?” I raise an eyebrow at Kyle as he returns with a small pink backpack.

The Beta shrugs. “She found a starfish. And some interesting rocks. And what might have been a crab, but it escaped.”

“It was definitely a crab.” Quinn accepts the backpack and unzips it with urgent fingers. “I named him Frederick.”

“Frederick the Escapist Crab,” Dominic muses. “Sounds like a mystery for Detective Stardust to solve.”

“Exactly!” Quinn spreads a damp notebook on the kitchen counter. “See? This is Frederick.” She points to a scribbled shape with an excessive number of legs. “And this is the salmon. Grady says we’re going to eat him for dinner.”

“After he’sss cleaned and filleted,” Grady clarifies. “I refuse to eat anything that’s s-s-staring at me.”

Kyle bumps his shoulder. “We’ll turn you into a true fisherman yet.”

The kitchen fills with voices as Quinn recounts every detail of their fishing expedition, with random help from Grady and Kyle.

We hear everything from how the bait was slimy in her fingers, to how the fish fought on the line, and how Sprinkles tried to bite the salmon’s tail when they finally landed it.

I lean against the counter, watching Chloe tuck a curl behind Quinn’s ear as the child speaks. She listens with her whole body, nodding and gasping in all the right places, her attention never wavering despite the rambling narrative.

Blake sidles up beside me, arms crossed over his chest. “She’s good with her.”

“She is,” I agree.

Blake slides an arm over my shoulders, his beard tickling my neck as he leans in close. “Think she’s carrying one of our pups now?”

My stomach swoops, and only Blake’s arm keeps me upright as I turn to stare at my bondmate.

He arches one eyebrow. “Yeah?”

Fuck.

I turn back to stare at Chloe. In all the urgency to bond, none of us discussed the other very real possibility that comes with spending a Heat with our Omega.

I imagine her swollen with our pup, and longing jolts through me so hard that the rest of our bondmates’ heads turn toward me. Even Chloe flicks a look my way before tuning back into Quinn.

Blake squeezes my shoulders. “One day at a time.”

I swallow hard. “Yeah.”

He rests his weight against me. “Today’s a good one.”

“It is.”

Tomorrow may bring challenges. But today, there is joy and a house full of the people who matter most.