Page 129 of Tangled in Knots

Damon is sitting on the stairs of their home when we arrive, though his vehicle isn’t.

“I’m not sure I like the fact that he jumped our fence,” Callum grumbles as Duncan parks the truck.

The fence and gate are new, something the brothers recently added to their home. I haven’t asked yet, but I have a feeling it’s because of me. It feels as if they’re closing ranks, ensuring they can protect me.

I’m not sure what I did to deserve them, but I’m constantly in awe of Callum and Duncan Kelly.

“He’s a ghost, and reminding us that we can’t keep her to ourselves,” Duncan grunts. “The bastard is lucky he didn’t step on any of the land mines we buried.”

“You what?” I ask, jaw dropping as we get out of the truck. Callum has to do some contortion to get out, but he makes it.

“We had an issue a couple of years ago with a security company we hired,” Duncan explains. “Two omegas were kidnapped during that party, and now I don’t trust them to keep our property safe. We still occasionally have parties, but we hire from the mafia families now.”

“Loyalty is hard to come by,” Callum adds, reminding me of how my father’s guards turned tail after he died or were killed.

Damon stands as we walk up to the front door, looking like a stony faced God. My resting bitch face may be on point, but his appears chiseled and dangerous. He’s in the same clothes that he wore at school, but he has a gun case in his hand.

“I brought my own,” he grunts, shrugging. “I want to figure out what she’s most comfortable with before I give her a firearm.”

“She can’t keep a gun with her at the shelter,” Callum reminds him as he unlocks the door. “That's why she has a knife and stun gun instead.”

“I don’t like that rule,” Damon mutters. Their banter continues as we walk through the house, and I listen to them. As much as they complain about each other, they seem to tolerate the other well enough.

“There are kids at the shelter,” I remind him. “I have a lock box for my knife and stun gun, so it doesn’t end up in the wrong hands.”

“We’re teaching her how to handle a gun and defend herself because she’ll need the knowledge,” Duncan says as we enter the kitchen. “At some point, it’s possible someone will push Short Stuff’s boundaries.”

“Please kill first and ask questions later. It’s the safest way to go,” Damon says like the killer he is.

“I don’t think that’ll solve everything,” I tease him.

His green eyed gaze is heavy on me as he stares, and it’s unnerving. I’m not sure how to act around him outside of school. I can be witty and sarcastic as we’re walking between classes, but being in close quarters with him outside of that is unnerving.

“The lasagna just needs to go into the oven to cook, since I prepared it earlier this morning,” Duncan says, hitting a button on the oven to begin preheating.

“You’re so domestic,” I observe. My stomach growls, and I wince as I rub it.

“You’re having a snack,” Duncan growls in response, pulling out ingredients for it. “The lasagna will take a while, and I can hear that you’re hungry.”

“Your classes are so close together, there’s no time to eat,” Damon mutters. “Can you bring snacks with you?”

“Food is a hard subject for Adira,” Duncan says, his words attempting to close the conversation. Anxiety ruins my appetite, which they know well. Callum takes the bread and drops it into the toaster, while Duncan starts to slice the strawberries. I’ve been trying to expand my comfort foods, and they’ve noticed.

“It’s easy to forget to eat when you’re not in the habit of it, or things affect your appetite.”

There’s no judgment in his words, simply an explanation, yet Damon freezes as he absorbs the words.

“What are you making her?” he asks, looking as if he’s studying for a test as he watches us.

Callum places the toast on a plate, bringing it to Duncan to spread peanut butter and sliced strawberries on it. While it appears like a crazy combination, I think it’s delicious. Pushing the plate toward me, Duncan watches as I take a bite and actually grin in happiness.

“Whatever makes her smile like that is what I’ll make her. It’s worth the weirdness,” Duncan murmurs before continuing to pull his lasagna out of the fridge.

It’s slowly getting easier to feel happiness and smile. I didn’t even burst into tears this time. My emotions are scattered and frayed, and while I appreciate the option of therapy, I meant what I said.

My trauma is tied to the knowledge Rock Dresmond could take me at any point in time. The only way for me to move past it is to remove him from the equation.

Pushing away the thought before it manages to ruin my appetite, I polish off my snack, sighing as my stomach admits it is full for now.

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