"We're not asking you to," Remy assured me, sitting up and running a hand through his sleep-mussed curls. "But chere, this cabin is... cozy."
"You mean small," I said dryly, raising an eyebrow at him, a smile tugging at the corner of my mouth despite myself.
"I mean intimate," he corrected with a grin that flashed his dimple. "Which is perfect for romantic weekends, less perfect for four people living together permanently. The nest is already taking up half the room, and that's before we add all our stuff."
He had a point. The cabin was small—one bedroom, one bathroom, a kitchen that opened into the living space where I'd built my nest. It had been perfect for Marguerite living alone, and it had been perfect for me. But four people? Four people plus Gumbo's occasional indoor visits?
"We could add on," Harper said slowly, his practical mind clearly already working through the logistics. "The property's got plenty of space. We could build out the back, add a couple more bedrooms, expand the kitchen. I know people who could do the work. Or—" He hesitated, glancing at me uncertainly. "Or I could do most of it myself. I've got skills. Been working with my hands my whole life."
"You'd do that?" I asked, something warm blooming in my chest. "Build onto my home?"
"Our home," he corrected gently. "If you'll have us. And yes. I'd build you a palace if that's what you wanted." He ducked hishead, the tips of his ears going red. "But I figured you'd rather have something that fits the land. Something that feels like it belongs here."
"I have money," Remy added, his usual lightness returning to his voice, though his amber eyes remained serious. "Family money, money I've been sitting on because I never had anything worth spending it on. Let me contribute. Let me help build something for all of us."
"I can help with the labor," Silas said quietly, flexing his scarred hands. "I'm not afraid of hard work. Been doing construction and repair work at the rehab center for years. I know my way around a hammer."
I looked at them—my three Alphas, my pack, my future—and felt something click into place inside me. Like the last piece of a puzzle I hadn't known I was building.
"What about your places?" I asked, sitting up slightly so I could see all of them, pushing my tangled hair out of my face. "Harper, your distillery. Remy, your houseboat. Silas, your cabin."
"The distillery's not going anywhere," Harper said with a shrug of his massive shoulders. "I'll still work there every day. It's only twenty minutes up the road. But I want to come home to you at night. To all of you."
"The houseboat's just a boat," Remy said, though something flickered in his amber eyes—affection, maybe, or nostalgia. "A place I've been hiding out instead of actually living. I'll keep it for fishing trips, for getting out on the water when I need to think. But home?" He reached out, traced a finger down my cheek. "Home is wherever you are, chere."
"Same," Silas said simply, his pale eyes steady on mine. "My cabin's just walls and a roof. The rehab center will still need me during the day. But at night—" He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing. "At night, I want to be here. In the nest. With my pack."
"Then we do it," I said, my voice thick with emotion, reaching out to take Harper's hand and then Remy's, completing the circle between us. "We build something together. Something that's ours. A real home for a real pack."
"And the bonding?" Harper asked carefully, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, his calloused fingers gentle against my skin. "How do you want to do that? All at once? One at a time?"
I'd thought about this. In the quiet hours when I couldn't sleep, when I lay awake listening to them breathe, I'd thought about what bonding would mean. The permanence of it. The weight of it. Three bite marks on my neck, three bonds humming in my chest, three men tied to me for the rest of my life.
"One at a time," I said slowly, working through my thoughts as I spoke. "I want to give each of you that moment. That focus. I don't want it to feel rushed or shared—I want each bond to be special. To be just about us, whoever 'us' is in that moment."
Harper nodded slowly, something like relief flickering across his stern features. "That feels right," he agreed, his voice rough. "Each bond deserves its own time. Its own space."
"Who goes first?" Remy asked, and there was no jealousy in his voice, just curiosity. "Or does it matter?" I looked at Harper. He looked back at me, his gray eyes steady and sure.
"Harper first," I said softly, my heart pounding in my chest as I spoke the words aloud. "He's Head Alpha. It feels right that he would be first."
A muscle jumped in Harper's jaw, emotion rippling across his usually stoic face. "You sure?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
"I'm sure." I reached out, cupped his face in my hands, felt the scratch of his stubble against my palms. "You were the first one I met. The first one who made me feel like maybe I wasn't as alone as I thought. It should be you."
He turned his head, pressed a kiss to my palm, and when he looked at me again, his gray eyes were shining with unshed tears. "Okay," he said, the word rough and broken and perfect. "Okay."
"Then Remy," I continued, turning to look at the golden Alpha who was watching us with something soft and wondering in his amber eyes. "Because you make me laugh when I want to cry, and because you see me—really see me—in a way nobody else ever has."
Remy's breath caught, his playful mask slipping to reveal the vulnerability beneath. "Chere," he whispered, his voice cracking on the word.
"And then Silas." I turned to face him fully, found his pale eyes, held them, let him see everything I felt written on my face. "Because you understand the darkness, and you walked through it with me anyway. Because you're the quietest and the fiercest and the most unexpected gift I never knew I needed."
Silas didn't speak. He just lifted our joined hands and pressed them to his chest, over his heart, and I felt it pounding beneath my fingers—fast and desperate and alive.
"So we have a plan," Harper said after a long moment, his voice steadier now, his practical nature reasserting itself. "Building and bonding. We'll start on the addition as soon as we can get materials. And the bonding—" He looked at me, a question in his eyes.
"Soon," I said firmly, meeting his gaze without hesitation, feeling the certainty of it settle deep in my bones. "I don't want to wait. We've wasted enough time already."
