Page 49 of Knot Just A Fan

“Grayson, we need to talk. Right now!” Her heels click after me and Enzo’s done a little jog to bypass her and catch up to me. Ash leaning against the wall of the loading area, head in his hands. I aim for the green room, of which there’s just one.

Inside, I leave the door open because I know Willow’s just going to barge in anyhow. I sink into the overstuffed armchair in the corner that’s seen better days, and grab a handful of almonds from the bowl beside me and start chewing.

“Willow, let it go, lass,” I hear Ash coming up the hall toward the room. Willow leans against the makeup counter, arms crossed, face red. Enzo’s lingering by the door, hands in his pockets. They’re both staring at me and once Ash joins us and closes the door, I know all I need to about Ronan running off in a strop.

Ash looks at Willow. “Willow, I appreciate you’ve come all this way but as you can see, this is a band issue that needs discussing.”

Willow doesn’t even turn to face him. I’ve never seen this side of her. But to be fair, she’s never seen this side of me. And neither of us have seen any side, for too many years.

I’m sure I’m too casual for any of them. But this is what I do. I retreat. I sit calmly. I go inside my head, to figure out the problem.

What is the problem?

Right now, it’s not Willow. It’s Briella. I know in my heart she belongs with us. And we’ve fucked it up—I’ve fucked it up so badly. And I don’t know how to get out of this hole I’ve dug.

I munch on the almonds, eyes glazed, royally pissing everyone off.

“Where’s Ronan?” I ask, giving myself more time.

“He’s gone, mate. Probably gone for a walk. You know what he’s like,” Ash says. I nod.

I know he’s fuming beneath his own carefully-constructed facade, but we try to be professional. Shouting doesn’t do any good, even though sometimes it can’t be helped.

Willow continues staring at me. I’ll admit, it’s something I’m proud of. I worked hard to be this casually obnoxious. But really, it’s protecting everyone from my outbursts. Because I used to be the sort that would wreck a room when something triggered me. But that’s a long time ago, another person. And I won’t go back to that, no matter how much it seems Willow would prefer it.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” she shouts. I sit up at this. She’s never spoken like this before. Further proof she’s trying to elicit an equally-dramatic response.

“Willow,” I say calmly at last. “I am sorry if our performance did not live up to your expectations. As you may have heard, we are all dealing with learning two things: one, we’ve ruined a woman’s professional and possibly personal life by our actions, and two, the Omega we’ve held out for all this time can only be bothered to see us when it suits her. When it’s convenient forher. That’s not how a pack needs to think. And your inaction has spoken louder than any actions.”

I swallow hard, trying to hide it, and take another handful of almonds. I look over to the drinks cabinet and Ash intercepts my glance. He walks over and pours two whiskeys, neat, and a soda water for Enzo. He even offers one to Willow, but she straight up ignores him again.

“Thanks, man,” I say. Enzo and I take a drink and the three of us lift them in the air then take a big gulp. It burns going down. Laophraig. But shit, is it good.

My head feels clearer. I look up at Willow, her blonde hair cascading in perfect waves down her shoulders, her perfect collarbones. The multi-colored necklace at her throat probably cost a year’s salary for Briella.

It’s not that I would ever begrudge someone using their hard-earned cash any way they please, that makes them happy and doesn’t hurt others. But Willow’s been a perfection-chaser forever, and I think her new look just means her idea of perfection has changed. It confirms she has changed.

Briella. I need you. All I can do is try to make amends, and hope that’s enough.

Willow finally shoots looks at Ash and Enzo, who seem to be feeding off my calm, and amazingly, mirroring it. We have come a long way since the highly-fused days of slinging emotions back and forth.

We had a return to that form in Ash’s office the day before yesterday. But that’s to be expected when you realize who your real Omega is, and how you’ve all played a part in self-destructing.

Well—I don’t know if Ronan has. He seems to hate her. Calling her a fucking fan. She’s not, but how do I make her believeI’venever felt that way about her?

I turn to Willow and hone in on her angry gaze.

“What I’ve got to say, I’m saying in front of these two?—”

“Good!” I say. “Because one of these two is pack. The pack you confessed to finally wanting to join. So talk.” I wave as if to say,The floor is yours.

She steps into the middle of the room like it’s her own stage.

“I’ve followed your career all this time. I’ve caught snippets of live performances online. I’ve sent you flowers, I’ve sent you notes. I’ve celebrated when your albums hit all their milestones. When the awards came in.”

I’m nodding, but I have to speak. “Willow, that’s all true. But you never once took me up on a single offer for us to fly you out, for awards shows, parties, gigs—nothing. Only when you can squeeze us in to a slow week for you do you finally say yes. And I’ve been a fool all this time to hold out for someone who’s not holding a space for us.”

And that, of course, is the moment when Ronan opens the door and slams it behind him. I wince internally, waiting for him to start a new argument that takes us all off-track, laying all the blame, rightly, at my feet. I am the pack leader, so I’m responsible for letting all this go on for too long.

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