Chapter 27 Violet #2
"I'm sure." I reach down, covering his hand with mine. "I've been running for so long. First from Mark, then from the idea that I might want to stay somewhere. But I'm done running. This is where I want to be."
"The apartment was always temporary," Liam says quietly. "But we wanted to give you the choice. Make sure you weren't feeling pressured."
"I'm not." I look at Xaden. "I'm choosing this. Choosing all of you. Choosing to stay."
His expression does something complicated. Relief mixed with satisfaction mixed with love so intense it makes my breath catch. "When?"
"Today?" I suggest. "Tomorrow? I don't have much stuff. It's not like I need to hire movers."
"Today," all three of them say at once.
I laugh. "You're all so eager to get me out of here."
"We're eager to get you where you belong," Garrick corrects.
"Okay." I take a breath. "But first I need a shower. And real clothes. And possibly a priest because I'm pretty sure three days of heat means I'm going to need spiritual cleansing."
"Dramatic," Xaden observes, but he's grinning.
I start to stand and wobble. Liam's there immediately, steadying me. "Apparently I can't walk straight after you three destroyed my body."
"Destroyed is a strong word," Garrick says, but he looks extremely satisfied with himself.
"Is it though?" I gesture at my legs, which are shaking slightly. "I'm like a newborn giraffe. This is your fault."
"Our fault," Xaden agrees cheerfully. "And we'll do it again."
"Not for three months." Liam's using his vet voice. "She needs time to recover. Her body just went through intense hormonal shifts and physical stress. Next heat should be..."
"Can we not talk about my next heat while I'm still recovering from this one?" I interrupt. "Baby steps. Like right now, the baby step of getting to the bathroom without falling on my face."
They help me to the bathroom, all three of them hovering like I might shatter. When I finally convince them I can shower alone, they retreat to the door, clearly not happy about it.
"I'll be fine. It's a shower, not a military operation."
"You're unsteady on your feet," Liam argues. "You could slip."
"Then I'll die clean and dignified."
"Not funny," Garrick mutters, but he backs off.
I close the door and lean against it for a moment, breathing. The bite marks throb slightly, a constant reminder of what happened. What I chose. What we all chose together.
Through the door, I can hear them moving around. The rustle of fabric. Low voices discussing something. The sound of my pack being pack, and I'm part of it now. Not a guest. Not temporary. Part of them.
The shower is bliss. Hot water sluicing over sore muscles, washing away three days of sweat and sex and heat. I take my time, letting the water work out the knots in my shoulders, careful around the bite marks like Liam instructed.
When I finally emerge, wrapped in a towel that's too big and smells like Garrick's detergent, I find clean clothes laid out on the bed. One of them must have grabbed them while I was showering.
I dress slowly, my muscles still protesting. Underwear, soft leggings, and an oversized sweater that might be Xaden's. My hair is a disaster, so I braid it wet, letting it hang over one shoulder.
When I step back into the living room, all three of them look up. And the expressions on their faces make me stop in my tracks.
"What?" I touch my face self-consciously. "Do I have something..."
Heat floods my cheeks. "Stop looking at me like that. We just established I need time to recover."
"Doesn't mean we can't look," Garrick points out. "Or appreciate."
"Or think about what we'll do later," Liam adds with a grin that's absolutely wicked.
"You're all terrible." But I'm smiling as I say it. "Now someone help me pack my stuff because apparently we're moving today."
What follows is controlled chaos. Garrick disappears to get boxes from the bakery's storage. Liam starts carefully packing my books, organizing them by genre because of course he does. Xaden tackles my closet, which isn't much. I didn't exactly bring a huge wardrobe when I ran.
I sit on the bed, folding clothes and trying not to think too hard about the fact that I'm packing up my life again. Even if this time it's different. This time I'm not running away, I'm running toward something.
"This is everything?" Xaden holds up my single suitcase, the one I arrived with months ago.
"I travel light." Always have. Mark taught me that lesson early. The less you own, the less they can take away. "Most of what I have is here already. My laptop. Books. Couple changes of clothes."
"We'll get you more," Garrick says from where he's taping up a box. "Whatever you need."
"I don't need much."
"Not about need." He looks up, meeting my eyes. "About want. You're allowed to want things, Violet. Nice clothes. Books. Whatever makes you happy."
The casual statement makes my throat tight. You're allowed to want things. Such a simple sentence that I'm only just learning to believe.
"I want soft blankets," I say quietly. "And throw pillows. And maybe some plants that I'll probably kill but I'll try anyway."
"Done." Xaden's already making notes in his phone. "What else?"
"That's it for now." I fold another shirt, smoothing out the wrinkles. "I'm not used to thinking about what I want. Give me time to figure it out."
"You've got all the time in the world," Liam assures me.
We finish packing quickly because there's really not that much to pack. Two boxes of books. One box of kitchen stuff I'd accumulated. Clothes in the suitcase. My laptop bag. That's it. That's my entire life, fitting into the back of Xaden's truck.
Pathetic? Maybe. But also freeing. I'm not weighed down by possessions or memories or things I'm afraid to lose. Everything I truly need is standing in this apartment with me, helping me load boxes.
The drive to the pack house is quiet. I'm in Xaden's truck, sandwiched between him and Garrick while Liam follows in his car with the rest of the boxes. The road curves through tall trees, climbing higher into the mountains.
I've been to the pack house before. Quick visits where they'd make me dinner and I'd leave before it got too late. But I never stayed. Never claimed space. Never let myself believe I deserved to.
Now I'm moving in. Making it permanent.
"Nervous?" Garrick asks, his hand finding mine.
"Terrified," I admit. "What if I'm terrible at this? Living with other people? Being pack?"
"You've been living with us for three days," Xaden points out. "Granted, most of it was sex, but still. You didn't kill us."
"The bar is very low apparently."
"We're easy," Garrick says. "Feed us. Don't hog all the hot water. Try not to break anything expensive."
"Those are literally the only rules," Xaden agrees. "Everything else we'll figure out as we go."
The pack house comes into view, and my breath catches.
It's beautiful. Modern but warm, all wood and glass and stone.
Three separate structures connected by covered walkways, with a main common area in the center.
Mountains rising behind it, trees surrounding it, like it grew naturally from the landscape.
"Welcome home, Violet," Liam says from behind us as we all pile out of the vehicles.
The next hour is a blur of unpacking and rearranging. Garrick immediately tries to reorganize my books by some system that makes sense only to him. Liam keeps finding places for my stuff. My toothbrush in the bathroom, my shampoo in the shower, my coffee mug in the cabinet next to theirs.
Small things. Everyday things. But each one feels like a tiny claim, a little piece of permanence.
"Where do you want your writing desk?" Xaden asks, gesturing to the corner of the main room that gets the best light.
"I don't have a writing desk."
"You do now." He pulls up something on his phone, showing me a beautiful wooden desk with drawers and built-in outlets. "Ordered it last week. Should arrive tomorrow."
"You ordered me furniture?"
"You're a writer. Writers need desks." He says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "Plus you've been working on the couch hunched over your laptop. Your back must be killing you."
It is. Has been for months. But I never said anything because complaining about minor discomforts felt ungrateful when I had a roof over my head.
"Thank you," I manage, my voice rough.
By the time everything's unpacked, it's late afternoon. Golden light streams through the windows, illuminating dust motes and making everything look soft and warm.
I stand in the middle of the common room, looking around. My books on their shelves. My laptop charging on the coffee table. My sweater thrown over the back of the couch. Small pieces of me scattered throughout, mixing with them until it's not their space or my space, but ours.
"What do you think?" Liam asks, coming to stand beside me.
"I think..." I take a breath. "I think this is the first time in my life I've felt like I belong somewhere."
His arm comes around my shoulders, pulling me against his side. "You do belong here. Always have. We were just waiting for you to believe it."
Garrick appears with mugs of tea, passing them around. "Dinner's in an hour. I'm making your favorite."
"You don't know what my favorite is."
"Chicken parmesan with garlic bread and that Caesar salad you always order extra dressing for." He grins. "I pay attention."
They all do. That's what keeps surprising me. They notice what I like, what I need, what makes me happy. And they remember. Not because they're trying to control me, but because they care.
"Pack dinner," Xaden announces. "Our first official one with Violet living here. Should we make it fancy? Light candles? Pretend we have class?"
"I vote for eating in our underwear," I suggest. "Really set the tone for our relationship."
Garrick raises an eyebrow. "You're serious?"
"Completely. We just bonded. I think we're past formal dinners."