Page 92 of Knot All is Forgiven

He's right, but having someone point out that this may not work out still stung.

"We're really doing this," Rafe responds, quickly squeezing my shoulder. He knocks on the door, and it swings open moments later. Russ is standing in the doorway wearing a pair of grey sweats and a black tee, and I crane my neck to see if I can catch a glimpse of Jordan behind him.

"She's in her nest," he says, answering my unspoken question. "She asked me to get you guys settled in the guest rooms."

"Is she going to come out?" Cyrus asks as he pushes his way into the condo. It's a big space, with an open concept and lots of windows for natural light.

Right in the foyer on the wall is an image that has been burned in my mind. "That's Meg's!" I say, tapping Rafe on the shoulder. "That's Meg's, right? Look at the empty milkshake glasses."

Rafe tilts his head to the side, and a grin stretches across his face. "It is. She painted our table at Meg's."

"And hung it in her house." My heart squeezes. Meg's was our place. It was somewhere we went as a group so many times I can't even begin to count them. "She never let us go, did she?" I ask quietly.

"No, I don't think she did," Icarus replies, gesturing for us to follow him down a hallway. We pass the clean, modern kitchen, with a tea kettle and an espresso machine side by side, and my thoughts travel to mornings together, making her a latte while she eats breakfast and chatters on about the news.

It's so domestic, so normal, that it makes my heart ache for a future that is still uncertain.

"We only have two rooms," Icarus says, pointing at two doors across from one another. "Sorry about that. But one of you is welcome to sleep on the couch."

"Nah, we'll be fine," I say, wrapping my arm around Rafe's waist. "It won't be the first time we've bunked together." The Alpha in question stiffens under my touch and grumbles under his breath but doesn't say anything to the contrary.

It's only when his dark eyes look at me, full of questions I'm not ready to answer, that I realize I may have stepped over a line.

We get our things unpacked and meander out into the living area, where we find Icarus messing around with tea leaves. He looks up and smiles warmly. "Tea?" he asks us. "I'm making a mug for Jordan. It's growing on her."

"Is she coming out?" Cyrus asks again, stalking into the kitchen. I can see him fighting against his instincts to go hunt her down.

Icarus raises an eyebrow at him, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms over his chest. "You're in her space, Cyrus, I think you can back off and give her some time to adjust."

Cyrus shrinks back, thoroughly chastised. "Sorry, I just really want to see her."

"I know," Russ replies, touching Cyrus' large shoulder. "I do. And she's been psyching herself up for this. So let's treat her like a skittish baby d-"

Russ' phone pings, and he looks down at it, eyebrows furrowing. After a moment, he stores it in his pocket.

"Simon, she'd like to see you in the nest."

My stomach falls out of my ass. "Me? Why me?"

He shrugs and takes me by the elbow. "Yep. You. Better take the shot while you can." As he leads me out, I catch the jealousy flashing on my packmates' faces, but it quickly gives way to relief. If she's willing to see me, this is a good sign, right?

I'm led through a bedroom with a king-sized bed dressed in navy and coral to a door off the side of it. Icarus stops before opening the door. "Please, be gentle with her," he whispers to me. "She's been fragile lately, and I'm worried."

"I'll never hurt her again," I promise. He seems satisfied with my answer and hands me her mug of tea before he backs away, leaving me staring at the white door. With a deep breath, I open it, getting hit in the face with Jordan's creamy peach milkshake scent.

"Hey, Simon," she says softly. She's in the middle of a massive, sunken mattress in a beautifully decorated nest in shades of reds and pinks with grey and ivory accents.

"Hey, Omega," I respond, setting the tea on a side table. I squat down to look her in the eye. "Can I come into your nest?" She doesn't hesitate and nods eagerly. I climb into the nest and sit across from her, unsure what to say.

What do I say to the woman I have loved since I was eight?

"Can I have your shirt?" she says, breaking the silence. I don't hesitate to rip the gray shirt off my torso and extend it to her.

"Anything of mine is yours," I tell her honestly. "Whatever you need."

She pulls my shirt to her face and inhales deeply before wrapping it around one of the throw pillows. I feel a little awkward in just my denim, my torso entirely on display, but Jordan doesn't seem to mind.

In fact, her eyes trace the tattoos on my flesh, and something that may be heat flashes in her eyes. She crawls across the nest towards me, her hips swaying in the star-print lounge set she's wearing. My pants tighten uncomfortably as I imagine all the things I want to do to her in that position.

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