Page 50 of Knot Just A Fan

I take a breath, preparing for the barrage I deserve.

Ronan eyeballs the drinks in all our hands, heads to the drinks cabinet, pulls out a bottle of beer and unscrews it. Then he walks right up to Willow, standing a foot away from her.

His nostrils flare. He’s sniffing her scent. He even leans in, deep brown eyes glued to hers until he closes them, inhaling that aroma of heavy florals. Then he straightens up.

His eyes change, and I don’t know if the rest of them feel it, but to me it’s a palpable pressure change. Like a storm dispersing.

“I don’t appreciate the way you spoke to our leader before the show. You set the whole thing off on the wrong foot, Willow. Did you come here to sabotage it? Because it sure?—”

“I did not do that!” she shouts, stomping one foot down on the carpet, not giving the desired effect as it thuds quietly. She crosses her arms tighter and her cleavage deepens in her dress. But I feel nothing.

I … feel nothing.

My oldest friend is inside there. And we will try to patch this. I will. But right now, she needs to hear this.

And so do I.

“It sure feels that way,” Ronan finishes. His voice is soft, quiet. I know the respect for her as a woman and an Omega is in there. And I’m amazed at how he’s reined this in.

“Whatever the motivation, you came here on our biggest gig in years, picked a fight with a man who has set aside space in his heart, in his core, in his pack, in his bed, in his goddamned mouth for you.”

He says this perfectly calmly. We’re all rapt, and I find myself leaning forward to hear, his voice so soft, but sincere. He’s thought this through, on his walk.

“Therefore, Enzo and I have done the same. You flew down here, arrive like the guest of honor despite shitting on his every invite for the past eight years, pick a fight just before he goes on stage—as if we’re here to perform for you, auditioning for a promise you already gave us—and then you find it within yourself to get angry that it didn’t go smoothly and perfectly. Willow, I’m done.”

He looks me in the eye for the first time, properly, in two weeks. I nod, and he starts to turn toward the door. Then he stops and looks back at Willow, whose mouth is a flat line and eyes hard.

“I have wanted a family—so fucking bad I can taste it. But I will not have one with you. Someone who doesn’t support when support is needed. I have enough family like that, I don’t need any more.”

Ronan turns and heads out the door. Ash looks at me then Enzo, gives a salute, and follows. Enzo stands, throws back his soda, sets the plastic cup down and pats me on the shoulder, then walks past Willow without a word. He closes the door.

“You haven’t grown up at all.” Willow’s eyes are like cold marbles.

“I could say that you’ve grown a lot.” But not in a good way.

She curls her lip and holds her coat around her midsection like a shield. “You can’t even be bothered to stand up or try to defend me in front of that lot.”

At this, I do stand. “That lotis my pack. Everything Ronan said, with all due respect, is correct. Willow, I said it earlier: you will always matter to me. But I know why you came down here. A chance to string me along another X-amount of years. I’m forty-one. We want pups. We want an Omega who wants us. And I’ve forced my mates, my best friends, my chosen brothers, to wait because of my own insecurities. If you can’t see that, and can’t understand, you’re not the friend I always thought you were.”

For a moment, her eyes soften, and her chin tucks in a little. She lets out a breath. “Your pack link is stronger than I thought.”

I’m not sure what she means. Did she think she could tear me apart but keep interest from the others? Is she trying to play some power game to keep us hooked?

“It must be,” I say. I hold out a hand. “Still friends?”

She doesn’t reach for it. She bites her lip. “Who’s the camera girl?”

I smile then shake my head. “Not going there, Willow. She has nothing to do with this, with us, or with the decade I’ve given you to decide. Your answer is clear, even if you’ll never say it. I love you. And we’re done waiting. So let’s stop playing this game.”

I place a hand on her shoulder, warm, hoping to send the message I will always be ready to be her friend. But my mate isout there, hurting, because of me. And I have grown up enough to finally see that my past has no hold on my future.

When we get back to the hotel, Ash calls us to his room where we all sit with a drink and a pile of sandwiches he brought from catering.

“Okay, now that we’ve got that over with,” he says, shooting me a look. I nod. He continues. “I’ve checked with reception, then I messaged her. Willow’s checked out. She’s checking into another hotel and is returning to Edinburgh tomorrow. Safe to say, she’s done.”

“Uh, we all are,” Ronan says between bites of sandwich. He looks at me. I know we need to clear the air. Later.

“So, aside from her, there’s other stuff on this agenda, then I will all let you get some rest.” Ash’s voice is more relaxed than I’ve heard in awhile, and he seems strangely calm despite the fact that we’ve clearly fucked up this first show. No encore is not the way to start a tour. So what he says next is no surprise.

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