Page 63 of A Heart in Knots

“Why did you do this for me?” I asked when we were nearly home.

“I had to do something more than just talk my way into your pack,” he said. “I had to do something meaningful and specific to you. And the bookisgood. And I didn’t think some date at the local sports bar for beer and buffalo wings would cut it.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “Too bad you put in all this hard work. I happen to like beer and buffalo wings.”

Rowan glanced at me, and I answered with a little grin.

“So now that you and me are okay, how are you and Skye?” he asked.

“Me and Skye? We’re good. We cleared everything up.”

“That’s good to hear,” Rowan said.

His tone made me curious, or maybe a little anxious. We were okay, right? She wouldn’t have made love to me if she was still angry. “Why? Did she say anything?”

“No. I’m just checking in.”

“We worked it out,” I answered. Or maybe Skye had just relented. Maybe she let herself forgive me, took up the emotional labour. An omega’s job was often to temper the alpha. Maybe she couldn’t help but forgive me. And the others had been right, I had been more than an alphahole, I had been a true and unrepentant bastard. I needed to apologize properly.

My shoulders sank. “No,” I murmured. “But, I’m going to make it right.”

Chapter 40

SKYE

Ihadbeenworkingon the chair for just under a week. It was slow going and I made a lot of beginner mistakes, but my experience with sewing, mending, and altering high end fashion was an asset, and so I wasn’t entirely clueless. But it was tough, physical work. It was good therapy though, fixing something broken and abandoned.

The under the balcony car port became my workshop, with wood, tools and foam everywhere. Now, the chair was resprung and the foam cushioning was fresh and cozy with great bounceback. All that was left was to find the perfect fabric to cover it with.

“Need a break?” Severen came into my little cave with a tray stocked with a pitcher of lemonade, two glasses, and a bowl of trail mix.

A ribbon of hair had escaped my braid, I blew it out of my eyes. “I guess I’m basically done for the time being. Can’t do anything else until I go fabric shopping and pick out the new design.” I peeled off my gardener gloves and took the offered glass of lemonade, downing it. I didn’t realize I was so thirsty. “Thanks,” I sighed.

“Looks like it’s gonna be a good chair,” he said.

“Better than the one in your office.” I sent him a cool, secretive smile.

“What’s wrong with my chair?” he asked in mock offense.

“This one is going to be bigger. More… accommodating.”

He chuckled, and I stretched out the kinks in my back.

“Turn around,” Severen said and I did as I was told. His strong, dexterous fingers came down on my shoulders and massaged through the aches. My eyes drifted closed and I leaned into the touch.

“I’m very impressed,” he said, speaking softly. “I didn’t know you had all this in you.”

“Mmm. Me neither.” I let my body ease into his comfort. Ever since the stolen moments in his office, we’ve been agreeable mates, but still slightly dancing around our hurts, on our respective guards. Or, at least I had been. Things felt almost back to normal except for a small lingering feeling of caution. Severen took the connection away before, he could do it again, and I couldn’t let my guard down. Not completely. No matter how much I wanted to. The love was there, but the trust was fragile and frail, like a baby bird. It needed to be protected and nourished. I needed him to see that before I gave him all my forgiveness.

“I want to show you something,” Severen whispered, his fingers banishing the aches from my shoulders. “Just us.”

“Okay.” My nod was lazy, almost heavy. “What is it?”

“Come with me.”

I let out a small whine as his fingers abandoned the massage. He offered his hand and helped me to my feet, then, still holding my hand, led me into the house and up the steps toward my nestroom.

He escorted me in and on my big bed was a bolt of fabric. I walked closer to investigate. It was white, with veins of gold thread filtering all the way through it in rivulets, like the fabric had undergone the Japanese mending art of kintsugi. The patches varied in shape, size and pattern but were always white, black, gray or blue. Then, I did a double take.

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