Page 74 of Knot All is Forgiven

"Yeah," he says in a husky voice. "I'm just exhausted. Nora is not sleeping, which means I can't fucking sleep either. I think I've gotten four hours in three days."

"She keeping you up?" I've only met Nora in passing at Roberto's, but she doesn't seem like the type to force someone to be up with her.

"Pregnancy is no joke," he gripes, leaning against the wall. "Don't get me wrong, we're all stoked to have a kid. But man. She needs to sleep."

Rafe comes wandering into the kitchen, inhaling deeply. "Shit, it smells good in here."

Chase smirks. "Thank you very much. I can't take the full credit, though. Nora helped with the recipe."

"Wait, Nora, as in Perfect Omega Nora?" Rafe asks, looking at me. "Do you know the whole pack?"

"Joey's family," I say with a shrug, like that explains it enough.

It must to Chase because he nods sharply. "Right, I'm out. Good luck." Right before he opens the door, he looks over his shoulder at me and Rafe. "Take it from someone who fucked upa lot with their Omega – you've gotta make an impact. Don't tell her you've changed. Show her." His eyes get a little glazed, and a faraway look flashes across his face. "You don't know what can happen. Don't wait. You don't want to leave things unsaid."

We stare at the door Chase exited out of, his words swirling around us. Rafe sighs. "She was kidnapped, right?"

"Yeah," I say quietly. "During dinner with Chase. He was nearly feral when they got to the safe house. I think I have an idea of why now." I go to the bar cart and start making a drink, Rafe trailing behind me

Rafe's dark hair is slicked back and out of his face. He's wearing a black T-shirt that clings to his lithe frame and dark jeans. He looks handsome and dangerous, starkly contrasting the slacks and button-ups he wears into the office daily.

It hits me.

"You're dressed like you used to in high school."

He shrugs, not denying it. "It felt like the right thing to do."

"What did?" Cyrus asks, turning the corner into the sitting room. He's got on jeans and an impossibly tight grey shirt.

"I must've missed the memo to cosplay as my teenage self," I grumble, taking in my own appearance. It's not that I dressed up, but I ditched the stained jeans and cut for light-washed jeans and a black button-down. I rolled the sleeves up, and some of my more colorful tattoos are on display. "Maybe I should grab my glasses and take my contacts out," I mutter.

"Nah, you'd have to bleach all that green out of your hair," Rafe quips, ruffling my hair. It's an intimate gesture that does something to me I am not in the headspace to examine.

My hair has been bright green for years, and I never considered the possibility that Jordan might not like it. She doesn't even know me as Slime. To her, I'm still Simon.

Before I have the chance to loose myself in a cosmetic anxiety spiral, the doorbell rings.

We exchange nervous glances, playing chicken to see who will answer the door. Cyrus gulps and opens the door quickly. I see Jordan and Icarus standing side by side, his arm tightly around her waist.

Icarus is handsome, with dishwater blonde hair and deep, dark green eyes. The way he holds himself, his posture, makes it clear that he's a doctor. Intelligence and confidence ooze from him. He's got his hair neatly styled and is wearing a navy short-sleeved button-up with khaki slacks, making me feel less out of place in my outfit.

But he's not what caused my heart to skip a beat.

Jordan's red hair falls past her shoulders in pretty waves that frame her face. She's wearing a little makeup, but it must not be a lot because the freckles that decorate her face are still visible. She has a pair of wide-legged black slacks with a tight, slate-blue top tucked into them. I'm not sure if this is how she dresses for work or not, but fuck she looks incredible.

She looks mostly the same as in high school, just slimmer and maybe a little haunted.

Or perhaps that's just my guilt being reflected.

I realize we've all been staring at one another, with no one saying anything for a long moment. I surge forward. "Hey, Jordan, Icarus, thanks for coming."

Icarus clears his throat and holds his hand out to shake mine. "Thanks for having us."

Jordan doesn't say anything. She just darts her gaze between each of us. Now that I've moved closer, I can see the bite mark from her bonding with Icarus and smell her sweet, creamy peach scent. It makes my head feel a little fuzzy.

Rafe clears his throat. "Do you two want some drinks? Cocktail? Whiskey? Wine?"

Icarus looks down at Jordan, who is looking a little green. "You want a drink, sunshine?" When she looks up at him,adoration in her eyes, like he's her sun, moon, and safety, jealousy twists my gut.

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