Page 86 of Knot All is Forgiven

Did she think about how that could have been her?

Will Athena's trauma make Jordan willing to listen a little closer and see our intentions more clearly?

Quinn taps me on the shoulder, shaking me out of my thoughts and pointing out that we're about to go live.

The lights turn up, the red light glows on the camera, and I have an idea that's so stupid it just may work.

Chapter thirty-three

Icarus empties the teainfuser in the trash, grumbling to himself. "I don't know why we can't seem to get this right."

"That one was okay," I say encouragingly. "That could be our pack tea."

"I don't want just an okay blend," he snaps. I raise an eyebrow at the aggressive tone, and he immediately winces. "Sorry, sunshine," he murmurs, kissing my forehead. "It's just so weird that we can't find the right one. We've been at it for months."

"We'll figure it out. At least it's helping me develop a taste for tea." He chuckles and makes us both mugs of chamomile, carrying them to the couch and placing them on the coffee table.

"Coasters!" I shout, sprinting after him and placing the mugs on the agate slice coasters. "You're an animal."

"Me? You didn't even own coasters until I moved in!"

Speaking of animals, Dae comes barreling out of the bedroom, screeching loudly at some imagined slight. He hides under the coffee table, a strange combination of meow and growl rolling out of his chest. "What's your problem?" Vick asks, poking the cat with his sock-clad toe.

Unsurprisingly, the cat doesn't answer. I firmly believe cats can see ghosts, so I'm just going to assume one spooked the orange feline.

We're both dressed in comfortable lounge clothing, getting ready to cuddle up for a movie. It's Icarus' turn to pick, and he's chosen some art film in another language, and honestly, I'm dreading it.

He likes to watch with the subtitles on because it helps his brain process what's being said, but for me, subtitles don't feel like enough when it's a foreign language.

I doubt I'll watch much tonight. My head has been killing me, and I'm so queasy. I don't want to say out loud what I think it is.

It will make all of this feel very real.

Cuddling up under Icarus' arm, I inhale his soothing spa-like scent, letting it wash over me and calm my throbbing head. It's humorous that when it comes to Icarus, my home smells like a day getting massages and facials and resting in steam rooms. He smells like relaxation, and every time I get a whiff of it, I feel the tension bleed from my body.

"So you truly had fun last night?" I ask for what is probably the thirtieth time. I have difficulty pretending I don't care if he got along with the guys.

"They're competitive," he says with a chuckle. "I swear I thought Slime was going to deck me several times."

"Slime," I say, rolling the street name around on my tongue. "It's amusing that the quiet, studious Simon I knew is now a guy named Slime with green hair, a leather jacket, and a bike."

"Yeah, it's a strange nickname." He snags his mug from the table, taking a deep sip of the still-cooling liquid. He can handle a hotter temperature on his tongue than I can, so mine stays abandoned for now. "But yeah, they're good guys."

"Yeah…" I say softly. "I know they are." It's a strange dichotomy to try to reconcile the boys I knew with the teenagers who hurt me and the men they are now.

I want them in my life.

I don't think it makes me weak to admit that I want my Alphas with me. I've always wanted them. And Cyrus's t-shirt that I have under my sweater isn't going to be enough forever.

But if I forgive them so easily, just because they smell like home, aren't I being weak? Shouldn't I stick to my guns here?

I'm vaguely aware of Icarus kissing my forehead and turning the movie on, but my spinning mind isn't allowing me to focus on it.

Can I have them in my life if I don't fully forgive them? Could we do some sort of trial where we attempt to see if things can be repaired?

But that feels like a copout. It's a cheap way of sticking my toe in the water without making a real commitment. I have no doubt it would immediately drift into us becoming a pack, and I'll never know if I would have forgiven them if their scents weren't swimming around me at all times.

The ringing of my phone breaks my spiraling thoughts. I fish it out of the pocket of my lounge pants.

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