Page 59 of Knot Happening Again

I did this to her.

And I've spent the last seven years hating myself for it, but not enough.

Never.

"I'm sorry," I say, knowing it's woefully inadequate. "I know it doesn't mean anything?—"

"You're right," she interrupts, her eyes flashing. "It doesn't." She fixes me with a hard stare, and I feel like she's looking right through me. "It means absolutely nothing. Same as I meant to you back then. Why are you really here, Leon?"

I stare at her, wondering the same thing myself. I came to apologize, to see if there was some way to put things right. But now I realize that even that was selfish. An attempt to assuage my own conscience of the unforgivable.

"There has to be something I can do," I say, desperation creeping into my voice. "Some way to make this right."

Ophelia's eyes narrow. “Sure," she says. "You can walk right out that door and forget I exist all over again. You're good at that."

Her words cut deep, but I know I deserve them.

I deserve them all and more.

Still, I can't give up.

Not now.

Not ever.

The fact that I now know she's my scent match might solidify that knowledge, but it doesn't change anything. The thought of walking away from her again is physically painful.

"I can give you money," I blurt out before I can stop myself, immediately regretting the words as soon as they leave my mouth. The look in her eyes makes it clear that was the wrong decision.

But that's the only way I know how to deal with problems.

Even now that I’m panicking because the words came out so wrong, it's the only thing I can think of. The only way to get her away from this place.

"You don't belong here, Ophelia,” I say when I’ve found the words to explain what I mean. “There's no way you want to work here?—"

The look she gives me could freeze hell itself. Her eyes, usually so bright and full of life, turn to chips of ice.

"Fuck off," she snarls, her voice low and dangerous. "The last thing I want is your charity."

I reach out without thinking, grabbing her wrist. Her skin is soft and warm under my fingers, and the contact sends a jolt of electricity through me. "Ophelia, please?—"

Her glare turns murderous.

For a moment, I think she might actually slap me in the face. And I would welcome it, because at least she'd be touching me.

But then her face goes blank, her eyes fixed on a spot just below my chin. I realize with a start that she's seen the mark peeking out from my collar.

The mark that ties me to Rhys.

Her expression grows cold again. "Whatever absolution you came here to find, you can take it and shove it, along with your money," she says, her voice icy. "I don't need either. I don't needyou."

With that, she pulls away, her wrist slipping from my grasp. I want to reach for her again, to pull her close and never let go. But I force myself to stay still, knowing I've already overstepped.

"If I ever see you again, I'll call security. Trust me, enough of them stomping you into the ground at once would be too much even for you,” she tosses over her shoulder in warning before disappearing back into the bar.

I watch her go, feeling like I've been gutted.

All I can think about is how she must have felt when she woke up that following morning and realized I was gone.

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