Page 34 of Knot the Last Chapter

Lila Quinn—my Lila, the one I’ve been texting with for over a week now, the one whose voice I’ve conjured a hundred different ways, whose words have been the best part of my days—stood not six feet from me in my own damn living room and looked me dead in the face.

Like she knew me. I saw it in her eyes. The flash of recognition, the way her body locked up for half a second, like something hit her square in the chest.

And then she schooled her face. Smiled like we were neighbors meeting at a grocery store. Not like the two people who’ve been trading late-night confessions, bad puns, not to mention some of the hottest fantasies ever, all under pseudonyms.

Pine. Plot Bunny.

Her.

Me.

I rake a hand through my hair and lean my shoulder against the doorframe between the kitchen and the living room,watching the fire crackle and die down as Rhys and Corwyn clean up.

They don’t talk about it, but I know they felt it. The way the temperature changed when I walked in. They felt the tension like a string pulled too tight between us. Lila’s scent practically lit up the room. My whole body reacted—instantly. Want, recognition, instinct all braided into one bright spark that still hasn’t gone out.

She smelled exactly like I’d imagined and looked even better.

Barefoot, wearing my old sweatshirt—too big on her, hanging off one shoulder—and that cat nestled at her side like she belonged there. Damp hair curling around her collarbone, eyes sharp and tired and defiant, like the storm didn’t even come close to breaking her.

And then she left.

Just… walked away.

“Rough night, brother?” Corwyn says from the sink, where he’s drying the last of the mugs.

I grunt, not looking at him.

Rhys tosses a dish towel over the back of a chair. “You know her?”

“I’ve met her before.” I keep it vague.

Corwyn smirks, sensing blood in the water. “From where? That didn’t look like a casual ‘Oh hey, remember me?’ stare. That was more like ‘I remember every embarrassing thing you ever said.’”

I stay silent, jaw tight.

He presses on. “Or maybe you said something really bad, and she’s here for revenge. Storm wreck just a cover for her master plan?”

“Cor,” Rhys warns, gently. Corwyn’s not cruel. He just doesn’t know when to stop teasing.

I finally push off the wall and move to the table, dragging a hand through my still-damp hair. “She’s the one I’ve been texting.”

That stops both of them.

Rhys straightens. Corwyn blinks. “Plot Bunny?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure?” Rhys asks.

“Oh ya.” I exhale. “I suspected it was Lila Quinn—not that many Lilas who wanted to be writers in Starling Cove.”

“She…she doesn’t know you’re the texter?” Rhys asks in that tone of “wow, you really screwed this up.”

“I used a pseudonym.”

“Great move,” Corwyn says, leaning his elbows on the counter while dissecting a clementine. “No wonder you looked like you got punched in the gut.”

I ignore that.

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