Page 73 of Knot the Last Chapter

He steps back, eyes flickering with something unreadable. Desire, yes. But also reverence.

He leaves me standing there, clutching the notebook, heart racing.

And I know this moment will be inked into me forever.

Chapter forty-three

Tyler

I’ve been up since before dawn.

The house is quiet, save for the occasional groan of wood adjusting to the early morning chill. The silence is perfect. It lets me focus—keeps my thoughts from spinning too fast. But even now, hands busy grinding coffee, I can’t stop thinking about her.

Lila.

She looked like a dream last night. Eyes wide and wild and wanting. And then she left. Walked away, just like that. After everything between us. After she watched me in the spa—watched me fall apart, trembling with the need for her.

I haven’t slept. Not really. My body was too wired, heart pacing with every breath. So I decided to do something useful. Something normal. Maybe breakfast could be my olive branch. A fresh start. Something soft and warm to ease the awkward tension that’s been hanging since yesterday. Starting with coffee, but moving on to eggs and bacon.

The sizzle of the skillet grounds me. Bacon curls. Eggs bubble. Toast pops. I can smell butter melting into the bread, hear the quiet hum of the heater kicking in as the house slowly wakes.

I’m plating it all when Rhys walks in, hair a mess, rubbing his eyes.

He stops in the doorway. Stares.

“Did the world end and no one told me?”

I roll my eyes. “Morning to you too.”

“You’re cooking.” He crosses his arms, incredulous. “Voluntarily.”

I shrug. “Thought it might be nice.”

Rhys raises a brow. “You? Nice?”

I glance at him. “For her.”

His expression softens immediately. “Ah.”

He walks over, claps me on the shoulder, and starts helping with the toast. We move in comfortable silence for a while—two brothers in rhythm. It’s nice, domestic in a way that feels both foreign and natural.

When everything’s ready, I load a plate. Eggs, toast, bacon, fruit on the side. I even added a small bowl of strawberry jam because she mentioned she liked it yesterday.

I carry it carefully upstairs, heart thudding a little too hard. Her door is half-open. Misty’s curled at the foot of the bed, tail twitching lazily.

But the bed is empty. No sign of rumpled sheets. No sign she ever slept there at all.

“Lila?” I call softly.

No answer.

Something cold slides into my chest. My stomach knots. Did she leave again? Did I scare her off last night? Was it too much?

I set the tray down on her desk and rush back downstairs.

Rhys and Corwyn are already in the main hall, hearing my footsteps.

“She’s not in her room,” I tell them, voice tight.

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