Chapter 36 Halloween Harvest & Forever #2
"Should've thought of that before becoming a folk hero!"
Muffin, Biscuit, and Whiskey are prowling the festival in their tiny capes, looking like the world's most judgmental witch familiars.
Biscuit keeps trying to steal cookies from children's hands.
Whiskey has claimed the highest pumpkin in the carving station as his throne.
Muffin is accepting worship from her subjects with the grace of a cat who always knew she was royalty.
"This is surreal," I mutter, watching my cats terrorize the festival.
"This is perfect," Reverie corrects, appearing with her camera. "Say 'Hot Buns!'"
"I will not—"
*CLICK*
"Got it! That's going on Instagram!"
As the sun sets, the fairy lights become more prominent, turning Maple Street into something from a storybook. The music shifts from upbeat pop to something slower, more nostalgic, and suddenly, the street is clearing for dancing.
"Oh no," I say immediately.
"Oh yes," Levi grins, pulling me into the makeshift dance floor before I can escape.
"I don't dance!"
"You do tonight!"
And somehow, impossibly, I do.
Levi spins me under fairy lights, laughing when I step on his feet—twice—and nearly take out a jack-o'-lantern with my cape. Then Luca cuts in with more grace, leading me through steps I don't know but somehow manage to follow because he's that good at this.
"You planned this," I accuse.
"We planned everything," he admits, lips brushing my ear. "Including the part where you realize you're happy."
"I already realized that!"
"Good. Now stop thinking and just dance."
So I do.
I dance with Luca until Rowan cuts in, and his hands on my waist are possessive and gentle at once, leading me through a slow dance that has nothing to do with the actual music tempo and everything to do with the way we fit together.
"This morning you watched your ex get arrested," he murmurs against my temple. "Tonight you're dancing at a festival celebrating your success. That's growth."
"That's whiplash!"
"That's healing!"
The song ends and another begins, something instrumental and sweet that makes me think of autumn and new beginnings and the way cinnamon smells when it's fresh.
"Fireworks in five minutes!" someone announces, and the crowd starts migrating toward the town square where they'll have the best view.
"Rooftop," Rowan says quietly. "We should watch from your rooftop."
"I have a rooftop?"
"The bakery does. There's a patio. We've been setting it up."
Of course they have.
We slip away from the crowd—me, my three Alphas in their ridiculous security shirts, and four pets in tiny capes because apparently this is my life now—and climb the back stairs to the rooftop patio I didn't know existed.
It's been transformed.
String lights crisscross the space, creating a canopy of gold.
There's outdoor furniture that definitely wasn't here yesterday, arranged around a fire pit that's crackling with warmth.
And a table set with mugs of something that steams and smells like apples and cinnamon and possibly illegal amounts of alcohol.
"Witch's brew," Levi announces proudly. "With actual rose sparkles! It's glittery AND alcoholic!"
"That sounds like a health hazard!"
"It's festive!"
We settle around the fire pit, pets arranging themselves in a pile of fur and purring and the occasional bark when Ember decides she needs more attention. I'm pressed between Rowan and Luca, Levi sprawled at my feet like a very attractive guard dog in a security shirt.
"Toast!" Reverie appears from nowhere—seriously, how does she keep doing that?—with her own mug of sparkly death. "We need to toast!"
"To what?" I ask, accepting a mug that's warm and smells like autumn and bad decisions.
"To freedom," Rowan says.
"To success," Luca adds.
"To hot buns," Levi contributes, grinning when I smack him.
"To forever," I say quietly, and all three of them go still. "You're all my forever fall."
The words hang in the air, more serious than I intended, and for a moment I'm terrified I've said too much, been too vulnerable, ruined the moment with feelings—
"Every season's yours now," Rowan says, voice rough with emotion. "Not just fall. All of them. Forever."
And then the first firework explodes overhead, painting the sky in gold and purple and autumn fire, and I'm being kissed.
Rowan's mouth on mine, claiming and gentle at once, tasting like witch's brew and promises.
Then Luca's lips on my neck, finding that spot that makes me shiver, scent spiking with want and possession.
Levi's hand sliding into my hair, tugging slightly, pulling me back so he can kiss me breathless under exploding sky-flowers.
"We should go inside," someone says—me, maybe, I'm not sure anymore.
"We should stay right here," Luca counters, and his hand is on my thigh, pushing up the skirt of my ridiculous witch costume, thumb stroking the sensitive skin above my stockings.
"Someone could see—"
"Everyone's watching fireworks," Rowan points out, but he's moving anyway, pulling me to my feet, leading us toward the rooftop door.
We stumble down the stairs in a tangle of security shirts and witch costumes and grabby hands, the pets following with judgmental meows and enthusiastic barking because apparently our entire extended pack family is coming along for this.
The barn nest is closer than my apartment, and when Rowan opens the door, it's exactly as we left it—blankets and pillows and the scent of pack so strong it makes my omega instincts purr with satisfaction.
"Finally," Levi breathes, already pulling his ridiculous shirt over his head. "Been waiting all day for this."
"It's been four hours since the power nap!" I protest.
"Four hours too long!"
Luca's already in the nest, arranging pillows with the efficiency of someone who's done this before, creating the perfect space for what's about to happen. Rowan lifts me easily—cape and all—and deposits me in the center like I'm something precious.
"Still dressed," he observes.
"You're all still dressed too!"
"Easily fixed."
What follows is a chaos of fabric and laughter and hands that know exactly where to touch to make me forget my own name.
The witch costume gets tangled in the cape—of course it does—and Levi has to actually cut me out of my stockings because the zipper breaks and we're all too impatient to figure out alternatives.
"Those were expensive!" I protest weakly.
"I'll buy you seventeen new pairs," he promises, kissing down my newly exposed thigh. "In every color. In patterns. In—"
"Less talking, more—oh."
Because Rowan's found that spot on my neck, the one that makes me arch and gasp and forget why I was protesting anything. And Luca's hands are everywhere, mapping skin he's memorized but touching like it's the first time every time.
Outside, fireworks continue to explode, the sound muffled by barn walls and blankets and the thundering of my own heartbeat. But inside this nest, wrapped in pack scent and autumn warmth and the knowledge that I'm finally, completely safe—
This is better than any firework show.
Later—much later, when we're tangled together in a pile of satisfied exhaustion, pets curled at our feet, the scent of satisfied omega mixing with happy alphas—I trace patterns on Rowan's chest and think about how far I've come.
From the woman who fled in the middle of the night with nothing but her car and determination.
To this…
To a nest built by hands that love me. A bakery that's become the heart of a town. A pack that protects without possessing, supports without smothering, and loves without conditions.
"What are you thinking?" Luca murmurs, fingers playing with my hair.
"That I'm happy," I admit. "Completely, terrifyingly, permanently happy."
"Good," Levi says sleepily from somewhere near my feet. "You should be. You've earned it."
Have I?
"Yes," Rowan says firmly, like I spoke out loud. "You survived, you rebuilt, you succeeded. You've earned every bit of happiness you're feeling right now."
Through the open barn window, I can hear the festival winding down—laughter, music, the sound of a town celebrating together. The scent of cinnamon and cedar drifts through, mixing with the vanilla that's so thoroughly integrated into this space that the whole barn smells like home.
Tomorrow, there will be cleanup. Orders to fill. The continued gossip about the court case and Korrin's arrest, and probably seventeen new variations of what happened that have me performing increasingly impressive acrobatic feats.
But tonight—
Tonight I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be.
In a nest that smells like pack and promise. Surrounded by Alphas who built me a future instead of demanding I fit into theirs. With pets who've declared themselves familiars and friends who've become family and a town that's decided I'm worth protecting.
"I love you," I whisper into the comfortable darkness. "All of you. Everything you've done. Everything you are. Just... all of it."
"We know," they say in unison, and it sounds like forever.
"That was very Han Solo," I point out.
"We've been practicing," Levi admits.
"Of course you have."
But I'm smiling, can't help it, face pressed into the crook of Rowan's shoulder while Luca's arm drapes over my waist and Levi's head rests on my hip.
We're a pile of limbs and contentment, and somewhere in the tangle, Muffin has claimed her spot on the pillow above my head, purring like a tiny motor of approval.
Outside, Oakridge Hollow glows gold with the last of the Halloween celebrations. Jack-o'-lanterns flicker on porches. Leftover candy gets counted and traded. Children crash from sugar highs while parents wonder what possessed them to allow this chaos.
And in the barn behind Hazel's Hearth & Home Bakery, wrapped in blankets and pack scent and the warm weight of forever, I finally let myself believe what my heart's been whispering for months:
This isn't temporary.
This isn't conditional.
This is real, and mine, and everything I thought I'd lost when I fled from Korrin's pack.
"Thank you," I whisper to the universe, to fate, to whatever cosmic force decided that a disaster of an omega who stress-bakes at 3 AM deserved a second chance at happiness.
"Stop thinking so loud," Luca mumbles. "Sleep. Tomorrow you can stress-bake. Tonight you just exist."
Exist.
Such a simple thing, but it feels revolutionary.
So I do.
I exist in this moment, this nest, this life I've built from the ashes of everything I left behind.
And as sleep pulls me under—warm and safe and surrounded by love I never thought I'd deserve—my last conscious thought is this:
I did it.
I survived.
I thrived.
I rose like a phoenix from the ashes, and I'm never going back.
I'm home.
Finally, completely, permanently home.
And that's exactly where I'm supposed to be….