Chapter 28
Piper
You know what doesn’t get enough credit?
Sleeping on a boat. The way the engine rumbles underneath your bones, the gentle sway—there’s no lullaby like it.
I’m not saying I’d move to a yacht full-time, but after this week, I’d at least do a timeshare.
I haven’t slept this well in… maybe ever?
Maybe since I was a teenager, before my scent changed and before “privacy” became a punchline in my autobiography.
My eyes flick open. There’s a strange patchwork of blue and gold shadows on the ceiling, thanks to the sun knifing through open portholes and the bright-white pillows stacked up by my head.
I’ve got one hand tangled in the blanket and the other clutching a phone, screen-down on my chest. The phone’s still warm, which means I fell asleep mid-scroll, which means someone in my pack is going to roast me about it before noon.
I roll onto my side, cradling the phone and whatever stubborn dregs of sleep I can summon. It’s pointless.
I don’t have to check the calendar to know it’s exactly two years since our first boat trip together, aka the best weekend of my life.
I don’t even have to get up to know this one is going to be even better.
Last night, all four of us drank expensive wine under the stars until those stars started to swirl together in my vision.
The rest of the pack is already up. Their voices carry down the hallway on the briny air.
I drag myself upright, stretch, and check my phone, which is stacked with notifications.
A new album review in which my voice is said to “shred the soul in the best way.” A desperate DM from my publicist asking if I can refrain from drunk-posting about liquid democracy, whatever that means.
A video message from Nolan, timestamped 6:14 a.m. I tap it.
He’s shirtless, smirking, and saying, “Bet you can’t beat me to the deck.
Loser makes the winner coffee.” He sends a similar challenge every morning and loses every time, except the one when I overslept by three hours, and today when the wine from last night definitely kept me asleep for longer.
My toes hit the floor. I pad down the hall in my favorite cherry pajamas. I round the corner, and all three alphas are waiting for me in the galley with delighted smiles the moment they spot me.
Kellen is slicing strawberries for breakfast tarts. “Good morning, angel.”
I flop onto the nearby bench and steal a berry right from the knife. “Good morning. How are you all?”
Elliot sits nearby with a coffee in-hand. “Well-rested for once. It’s nice.”
Nolan looms by the espresso machine. “I hear that.” He’s in gym shorts and a hoodie, beard looking extra burly in the morning light.
I lean back and let them chatter over my head. There’s something about mornings with these three that make me grateful I stopped listening to the part of me that said I’d never want a pack and would never be ready for love. Oh, how much I love being wrong about all of that.
Kellen sets a plate in front of me with a strawberry tart, still warm with perfect crust. His hands are steady and gentle as he dusts powdered sugar over it like he’s performing a magic trick. “For the lady of the hour.” He bows lightly.
I raise my eyebrows. “What? What’s the occasion?”
He always stuff like this, and as a whole my pack treats me like royalty, but there’s definitely a different energy in play today. I can’t nail down exactly what, but it’s made of anticipation and a charged-love sort of feeling.
He doesn’t answer, which immediately makes me more suspicious.
We finish breakfast and migrate to the deck, where the sun is bright and the horizon goes on forever where the ocean disappears.
I pull my knees to my chest and let the warmth bake my skin.
Kellen is already taking pictures, a dozen in quick succession, all of which will be terrible but I’ll save them anyway.
Nolan and Elliot lean on the railing, arms folded, surveying the empty sea with a soldier’s restlessness.
They look so at home, even out of uniform.
Even when there’s nothing to protect but us.
I lean back against the railing and face them. “So, what’s on the agenda today?”
“I was thinking we could swim later,” Kellen offers, “or just do nothing.”
I snort. “You’re constitutionally incapable of nothing.”
“Untrue,” he says. “I once took a nap in college. I almost failed out.”
“Taking it easy isn’t a bad idea,” Elliot suggests. “You’ve been working a lot, Piper.”
He says it casually, but I can hear the subtext: Take a break. You’ve earned it.
He’s not wrong. The last six months have been a blur filled with an album launch, tour, press, and an exhausting promotional schedule that has left my inbox in a perpetual state of crisis. The folk album—my first in years—got better reviews than anything I’ve done.
“No, you’re both right,” I admit. “Doing nothing sounds amazing.”
“Then it’s settled.” Kellen finds a lounge chair and sprawls across it under the sun.
We spend the rest of the morning doing absolutely nothing. Later, after I nap post-sunbathing, I wake to the sound of Elliot and Nolan bickering in the next room.
Elliot hushes someone. “She’s going to know something’s up.”
“She already suspects,” Nolan counters. “She’s not oblivious.”
I hear footsteps, then the low thunk of a bottle hitting the counter.
Quietly, I get up and peek into the galley to see them standing side by side, both facing away, both so tense they might as well be one person.
Nolan glances over his shoulder and catches my eye.
His face softens, and for a split second I see something nervous in it.
I slip in, quiet as I can. “What’s the conspiracy?”
Elliot turns, eyes wide, and for a second I think he’s going to flat-out lie. Instead he just says, “Nothing sinister. Kellen’s making dinner reservations for us tonight.”
“We’re on a boat,” I point out, but I don’t push it.
I head back to my room, feeling oddly giddy. I can’t explain it. If there’s a plot, I’ll let them have their fun.
By sunset, the yacht is aglow. Someone’s put out fake candles everywhere. I sense that if real ones might have been preferred but the wind would just keep snuffing them. I can hear plates clinking, silverware, and someone humming, probably Kellen.
I change into my favorite dress for dinner and make my way to the top deck.
The scene is almost too perfect.
Gold and purple streak the sunset sky and the water below is glass-smooth. A single table is set for four right at the prow. There’s even a bottle of champagne chilling in a bucket, which means someone thinks this particular dinner made by Kellen is a very big deal.
I’m early, but I see Kellen first, already at the table. He’s in a linen shirt and smiling like he’s about to win something. He stands when he sees me, eyes sweeping up and down my dress. “You look divine.”
“You clean up nice yourself.”
He laughs.
Elliot and Nolan join us a minute later.
Elliot’s in a crisp dark blue button-up with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
Nolan’s actually wearing a tie, which would be hilarious if he didn’t look so damned handsome in it.
The four of us sit and there’s just the hush of the sea, the fizz of champagne as Nolan pops the cork, and the way everyone keeps looking at me, like they’re trying to memorize the moment.
After dessert, when the stars are out and the air’s turned cool, Kellen stands and taps his glass with a spoon. It’s a ridiculous, old-fashioned gesture, but it works.
I look up. “Speech time?”
Kellen’s smile turns soft. “Piper, these past two years have been the best of my life.” He fumbles in his pocket and pulls out a small velvet box.
My lungs forget how to pull air. The champagne glass slips from my fingers, hanging suspended for a heartbeat before Nolan’s hand darts out to catch it.
A hot flush spreads from my neck to my hairline while my toes curl against the deck, anchoring me as the yacht suddenly seems to tilt beneath my feet.
The velvet box sits there—unexpected—like a strange bird that’s landed on our table.
Kellen opens the box: inside is a delicate rose gold ring, studded with three tiny stones of pink, blue, and green, like a beach at sunset. “We want to ask you to spend forever with us, Piper.”
Elliot produces his own velvet box with a ring that matches the one Kellen has and fits like a puzzle piece next to it. “We designed them together.”
Nolan is last. His ring is thicker, with a tiny silver band braided through. “You complete us. I know that’s sappy. I don’t care, it’s true. So, will you marry us?”
My vision blurs as the three rings catch the candlelight.
I can’t swallow past the tightness in my throat, can’t stop the trembling that starts in my fingers and travels up my arms. The memory of Kellen’s scent hitting me on that stage two years ago, Elliot’s steady hand at the small of my back during our first “date,” and Nolan’s eyes finding mine across every crowded room for years—all of it crashes through me like a wave breaking against the hull beneath us.
I hiccup a laugh and nod as the tears finally fall. “Yes. Yes, of course. I love you all more than anything.”
I launch myself at all three of them and fall into their arms.
Kellen’s lips find mine first, tasting of champagne and salt. Then Elliot’s hands cup my face. He brushes away my happy tears. They slip their rings on my finger and then Nolan follows suit while whispering, “Finally,” against my hair.
Finally is a good word for it.
I never thought I’d be ready for love or a pack, or for anything other than the music industry. And I know every member of my pack has a similar story.
But together, we’re more than ready. We’re a loving pack with a whole future in front of us.
And I can’t wait to meet it.
Thank you so much for reading Knot Ready For Love!