Page 116 of Knot Happening Again

"Any new opponents lined up after the next big fight?" Mace leans forward, always eager to talk shop.

"Maybe. My agent's working on it."

Maddox snorts. "Let's just see if you survive Jace."

"Your confidence is inspiring," I say dryly.

"What's the big fight?" Ophelia asks, to my shock. I'm honestly surprised she's even acknowledging my existence.

My gaze flicks to Ophelia, heart skipping a beat. She's looking at me expectantly, those blue eyes piercing right through me. I clear my throat, forcing myself to focus.

"Jace is this British fighter I've been gunning for since I went pro," I explain, stabbing at a piece of broccoli. "He's got a mean right hook and stamina for days. Been dodging me for years, but we're finally gonna throw down next month."

Maddox snorts into his wine. "Yeah, and he's the only guy with more world titles than our boy here. Gonna be one hell of a fight."

"You've got this," Rhys says, his tone not quite as distant as it's been. Mace was right. Showing up is what the pack needed, even if staying away would be easier. "You've been training harder than ever."

Ophelia's brow furrows slightly. "I don't really follow sports," she admits, her voice soft. "Especially not the bloody ones. But..." She pauses, and I find myself holding my breath. "You were always good at boxing. I'm not surprised you've done well in MMA."

For a moment, I'm stunned into silence. It's the most she's said to me since she arrived, and there's no venom in her words. Just a simple statement of fact. I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry.

"Thank you," I manage to croak out.

Rhys, ever the peacemaker, jumps in. "What about you, Ophelia? What kind of things are you interested in? Do you have any hobbies?"

She shifts in her seat, looking uncomfortable. "Not really," she murmurs. "Work kept me... busy."

The air in the room grows thick with tension. I clench my jaw, fighting back a wave of guilt and anger. The others' scents sour with protectiveness. We all know what kind of work she's talking about. The things she had to do.

Because of me.

Mace leans forward, his gruff voice gentler than usual. "You don't need to worry about any of that now, sweetheart. You can focus on doing whatever you want. We'll support you, just like we support each other."

Ophelia's cheeks flush pink. "I... I don't really know," she stammers. "I'm not good at anything."

"That's not true." The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.

Five pairs of eyes swivel to me, and I fight the urge to squirm in my seat. I take a deep breath, steeling myself.

"You were always good at art," I continue, my voice steadier than I feel. "Sculpting, particularly."

Maddox's eyebrows shoot up. "Really? Is that true?"

Ophelia's blush deepens. "I wasn't any good at it," she mumbles, staring down at her plate.

"That's bullshit," I say, more forcefully than I intend. She looks up, startled. "You won that competition at school, remember? For your sculpture of a swan."

Her eyes widen, lips parting in surprise. "You... remember that?"

I nod, my chest tight. Of course I remember. I remember everything about her.

Rhys's face lights up. "That settles it, then. We'll have to get you some supplies and set up a space for you if you want to try it again."

"I..." Ophelia hesitates, glancing around the table. Her gaze lingers on me for a moment before she gives a small nod. "I wouldn't mind trying again, now that I have time."

A tentative smile curves her lips, and for a split second, it's directed at me. My heart soars, even as my gut twists with shame. I can't make up for what I did to her. But I finally have an idea of where to start.

"Great!" Maddox claps his hands together. "We can clear out that spare room upstairs. It's got great natural light."

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