Page 19 of Knot Your Business

“As long as they stay over there, I’m fine with here,” I say. The sooner I have alcohol in me, the sooner this might not feel like an absolute disaster of a situation. And then maybe I can text my fathers so they don’t have to find out from my mother.

The elation I expected to feel at mortifying my mother over matching a pack with a Beta is overshadowed by the fact that it’s Jasper. My mood sours even more, and I throw back the Old Fashioned in one fast swallow, grimacing at the intense burn.

Faedra’s eyes are locked on me as I set the glass down. Her frown twists her lips, and her fingers tap against the copper mug of her Moscow Mule.

“I can’t quite decide if you’re simply disappointed or actively distraught over your match,” she says after a minute. Even concerned, she’s calm and collected. I envy her for it. “Or maybe you’re more upset about where you’re having to move.”

I roll the glass in my hands, breathing through my nose to keep from dissolving into tears. Again.

At my continued silence, Faedra takes another drink. One of the guys gets up and starts walking toward us, but Faedra glares at him. He hesitates, glancing between us.

“Not tonight, man. It’s match week.” Faedra’s voice is hard, carrying across the bar.

The man pales and takes a step back, twisting back toward the tall table where his friend is still perched, carefully scrolling on his phone instead of directly staring at us.

“I fucking told you,” he says as his friend drops back into a chair. “Should’ve done it last week, man.”

Faedra rolls her eyes and sighs. “I don’t know how you don’t break something with people doing crap like that all the time.”

“The resting bitch face helps most of the time,” I say with a shrug.

Faedra snorts and shakes her head. The amusement melts away a moment later, though, and she breathes out a heavy sigh.

“It’s Jasper,” I say, ripping the bandaid off without warning.

Faedra’s eyebrow ticks higher, but she doesn’t offer anything.

I roll the glass around some more. “And it’s the Alpha I met. They’re in the same pack.”

“So you’re upset over where they’re located, then? Is he still in Seattle?”

I shake my head. LA is my fucking home. It’s the only good thing I’ve been able to find in this whole situation since I saw their picture on the pier last night.

Faedra purses her lips. “There’s something I’m missing, Vi. If it’s Jasper, why are you on the verge of tears? And not the good kind.”

“Remember how I told you about the Beta that broke my heart right before I graduated?”

She nods, her gaze hardening. “He broke up with you using a letter. Like it was 1980 or something.”

“Right,” I agree. I set the glass down. “It was Jasper.”

“But you loved him.” Faedra doesn’t discredit me, her gaze searching my own. “He was your first. You… you thought he was it for you.”

For the first time in weeks, I let her see all the turmoil and rage that’s been festering just under the surface.

“I did,” I admit, my voice cracking.

Faedra’s the only one that gets to see me like this. She doesn’t judge, doesn’t force me to get over things, doesn’t expect from me anything more than I can give in the moment. She’s the best friend any woman could ask for. Being paired with her freshman year was better than winning the lottery.

“Fuck, and I asked if you wanted to go see him. I’m so sorry, Vi. Did he run into you? Is that what made you cry?” Her hands tremble. “I’ll punch him for doing that to you. That night was supposed to be fun, and you definitely didn’t have any.”

Her instant, unconditional support warms that part of me I have to keep under lock and key so my mother can’t ruin it, the part that’s all empathy and humanity. I take her hand. “For what it’s worth, I was having a good time.”

She nods and squeezes my fingers. “Good. Now tell me what actually happened.”

So I do. I tell her about grabbing food to keep myself busy while she chatted with her Alpha—Logan. His name was Logan. I tell her about my goal of finding an Alpha to hook up with so the night wasn’t a complete waste of time. I tactfully ignore how bright her cheeks get at the comment. I tell her how I ran into Rylan and got to talking.

“Wait,” she says, her fingers stilling on one of her piercings. “Who’s Rylan?”

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