Page 10 of Knot All is Forgiven

"That's the title of my memoir." His dark green eyes stare a hole through me before he bursts out laughing. I join him, and eventually, once the giggle fit subsides, I stand up, smoothing my pencil skirt as I go.

I'm not short, but I am certainly not tall. Dr. Valentine has a good six inches over me, even with my heels on, and he uses all of them to stare me down. "I'm glad you came in, Jordan," he says softly. "If I find something out about that mystery gene, I'll be in touch. I wish I could be more help."

"You were plenty of help." My voice has this unusual, breathless quality that I've not heard in years. "Seriously. Thank you so much for believing me."

He stands inappropriately close. I can even vaguely smell his cologne, a clean, refreshing fragrance I can't place. Maybe we've done an ad for it before.

"I hope you get what you've always wanted," he says softly.

Pulling my eyes away from the odd but handsome doctor takes a considerable effort. But I do, and when I'm halfway down the hall, I glance behind me and see him leaning into his door frame, arms crossed, watching me go.

Grocery shopping is depressing.

I really should order my groceries online and have them delivered because nothing makes me feel like a lonely piece of shit faster than watching all the happy packs grocery shop. My little basket is hooked under my arm as I peruse the produce section, looking for the best mangos.

See, here's the thing with mangos.

A lot of people like them really ripe, when they're that dark yellow color, slightly soft, and really, really sweet and juicy. But that's not how I like them. I want them to be green and firm. When you cut open a bright green, firm mango, the flesh is crunchy, crispy, and tart. I smother it in salt and lime, and it may as well be the perfect snack.

If I forget that Rafe used to make it for me as a snack after school whenever they were in season.

Since leaving Dr. Valentine's office, I have been unable to get the whole experience off my mind. It's not just that he believes me that there is an Omega inside of me, but him, as an Alpha.How handsome he is. I don't know if I could ever see him again because, holy shit, I think I have it bad for this doctor.

There is something about him that draws me in and makes me want to run my hands down his body, lick up his neck, and bite his lower lip.

These thoughts of him, well, more like fantasies, are running through my head when my whole body starts to ache. I hope this isn't the flu, but it feels like the beginning of one. I feel feverish, and my limbs are heavy. Suddenly, all I want is to lie down.

My basket is sparse, with just two mangos, a head of romaine lettuce, and a bag of frozen shrimp. What kind of grocery shopping was I even doing? Was I paying attention at all? What was I planning on making?

I really don't want to abandon the shop. I don't have anything to make dinner with. But shit, I feel like I'm going to fall asleep right here. I'm sure as hell not going to be able to drive home.

But I need some rest. Badly. Desperately.

I stumble through the store, aimlessly wandering, seeking out something I don't know I'll ever be able to find. Eventually, I'm too tired to keep moving, and I curl up into a ball in the walk-in milk cooler.

I just need a little nap. It's all I can think about as my eyes drift closed. Only as I start to wink out of consciousness do I realize this doesn't feel like a nap.

I fear I may be fainting in the milk cooler.

Clean up in dairy, I guess.

Chapter five

Grocery shopping is depressing.

It's a reminder that my pack is broken every time I buy food for one. Sure, I see Cyrus daily as we awkwardly shuffle into our separate apartments, but it's not the same as living together as a pack.

And I can't remember the last time I saw Simon.

But I try not to think about that.

None of us can find another pack, of course. Once that bond is made, and it's not like you choose your pack, that's it. That's all you get.

It started so well between us. It was so much fun for the first three years while we were teenagers—a nonstop party, a sleepover with your best friends all the time.

And then the incident happened.

That's what Simon called it. The incident. It's a veiled way of minimizing that we lied to Jordan and broke her heart.

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