Page 48 of Knot Happening Again

Mace beams, clearly pleased by my reaction. Troy watches me with an amused expression, sipping his coffee.

As I eat, I can't help but marvel at how comfortable this feels. How natural. It's like I've known these alphas for years, not days.

The thought sends a pang through my chest. This is dangerous territory. I can't let myself get too comfortable, can't let myself believe this could be permanent.

But as I sit here, surrounded by the warmth and care of these alphas, I can't help but wonder: what if? What if I could have this? What if I could belong here?

I push the thoughts away, focusing on my food.

One step at a time, I tell myself.

For now, I'll stay.

I'll be here when Rhys gets back, like he asked.

After that...

Well, I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.

CHAPTER 12

LEON

The bar pulses with energy, the constant hum of voices and clinking glasses washing over me. I lean against the polished wood, nursing a whiskey I have no intention of finishing. The amber liquid swirls in the crystal tumbler, catching the light from the overhead chandeliers. This place is swanky, far removed from the dingy pubs where I started my career.

But that's Maddox for you.

Always pushing for the best, the most prestigious.

I watch him work the room, his easy charm on full display. He's in his element here, moving from group to group with practiced ease. His tailored suit stands out among the sea of black and navy.

I catch snippets of his conversations as he passes.

Biggest upset of the season.

Unprecedented winning streak.

Revolutionizing the sport.

He's laying it on thick tonight, but I can't fault him for it. This is what he does best, after all. Selling the Leon Carver brand, turning me into something larger than life.

If only he knew the truth.

I take another sip of whiskey, wincing as it burns down my throat. Normally, I'd be right there beside him, shaking hands and flashing my media-ready smile. I'd be looking for any excuse to cut this tour short, to get back home to Rhys and the others.

But not tonight.

Not with a strange omega in our nest back home.

Our scent match.

The thought sends a fresh wave of guilt crashing over me. This should be the most exciting time of our lives. We should be celebrating, planning for the future. Instead, I'm here, thousands of miles away, drowning in regret and self-loathing.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, a welcome distraction from the downward spiral of my thoughts. I fish it out, my heart rate picking up as I see the name on the screen.

P.I. Johnson.

"I need to take this," I mutter to Maddox as I pass him on my way out. He nods, barely breaking stride in his conversation with a potential sponsor.

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