Page 28 of Knot Only His

“She might be yours. You might fall in love with her,” I counter. “And you get to keep Jagger permanently.”

“I’m too fucking old to fall in love.”

Asher snorts. “Too jaded, more like. Because thirty-three isn’t old. You just feel it because you’ve been looking after a child since you were twenty-eight years old.”

Parker’s shoulders slump, vulnerability creeping into his voice. “She might not want to be his mom.”

“Or choose this pack,” Asher adds quietly.

I shake my head, conviction burning in my chest. “I’m telling you. Harlow is our omega.”

The certainty in my voice makes them both look at me. But I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. The way her scent calls to me, to us.

And it’s not just coincidence that she escaped to Los Angeles—it’s fate.

Chapter 7

Harlow

It’s been over two weeks since I fled New York. Two weeks since I left behind everything familiar and despite the Californian sun streaming through my office window, painting golden streaks across my desk. And despite Los Angeles sprawling before me, a maze of palm trees and sleek buildings all catching the morning light, and having this job working for the Raiders hockey team, I miss home.

I pick up my cell and scroll through my phone, reading about the New York Bears’ latest game updates and what had happened.

I already saw it last night.

The footage of Carver played on repeat across sports channels. Another player slammed his body against the boards, the ensuing brawl and Carver’s fist smashing into the player’s face.

And a three games suspension for defending himself.

My thumb hovers over Carver’s profile picture. His fierce expression on the ice is a stark contrast to the gentle way he held me that night.

I hate that my heart clenches whenever I think about Carver, yet I don’t spare a second for my ex.

My phone buzzes. Another message from Colton.

“Please, Harlow. The omega meant nothing. You’re the one I want. Please come home and we can talk.”

The thought of him dating her, testing the waters before deciding I was better, causes bile to rise in my throat.

I don’t answer him–I’ve had enough.

I thought he got the message, but now it’s time to let him go.

I block his number on my phone and unfollow him on all my social media accounts. Then I reset my settings to private, push back in my chair and close my eyes.

It feels final, but good.

A breeze carries the scent of ocean salt through the open window. I smile.

It isn’t too bad here, not really.

The loneliness isn’t as bad as I expected. How could it be, living with someone like Freya? Her apartment has become my sanctuary. It’s filled with the constant aroma of fresh-baked goods and her endless chatter about customers at her bakery.

“You won’t believe what this alpha said today,” she’d told me last night as we had our nightly wine session. “Claimed my lemon bars weren’t tart enough. The nerve!”

I giggle as I think about how she’s helped with my homesickness.

At least, I’m fine until it gets to night time.

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