Page 60 of Knot on the Market

"Afternoon, team," I say, setting the coffee tray down on Callum's desk with deliberately cheerful energy. "Figured you could use some fuel before the day gets worse."

Callum grunts without looking up from his invoices. Julian gives me a polite nod and a quiet "thank you," but his gaze slides away before making real eye contact.

The silence that follows is heavy enough to suffocate small animals.

I take a sip of my own coffee and lean against the doorframe, watching dust motes dance in the afternoon sunlight. The memory of her scent last night—green apple and white musk turning rich and warm—makes my chest tight with something that might be longing or regret or both.

Finally, Callum slams a file folder closed with enough force to make both Julian and me jump.

"You shouldn't have said it."

I blink, setting my coffee cup down carefully. "What?"

"Last night." Callum's jaw flexes, and when he finally looks up, his hazel eyes are stormy with something that looks suspiciously like self-recrimination. "Too soon. You rushed it."

The accusation hits like a physical blow, partly because there might be truth in it. "I wasn't trying to pressure her. She needed to know where we stood."

"Three alphas circling like she's prey?" Callum stands abruptly, his chair scraping against the concrete floor. "Course she ran."

The bitterness in his voice makes my chest ache. "Callum?—"

"Forget it." He waves me off, but I can see the way his hands shake slightly before he shoves them into his pockets. "Should've known better."

The defeat in his tone is worse than if he'd yelled. "That's not—" I start, but Julian's voice cuts through the tension.

"You're not the only one who feels like last night was... optimistic."

Both Callum and I turn to look at him. Julian's gaze stays fixed on his clasped hands, but there's something in his posture that suggests he's been holding these words in for a while.

"Julian," I say carefully.

He takes a breath, and when he speaks, his voice is quiet but steady. "I came to Honeyridge Falls because I needed somewhere that didn't care that I was... too complicated. My last pack told me I was too much work. Too analytical. That omegas don't want men who read poetry and struggle to fix mailboxes."

The admission hangs in the air like a confession, raw and honest in a way that makes my throat tight.

"They said I made everything harder than it needed to be," Julian continues, his fingers tightening in his lap. "That I thought too much, felt too much, wanted too much connection. That normal alphas don't need to understand every emotion, every thought."

Callum's expression softens, the storm in his eyes shifting toward something that might be recognition.

"But Lila..." Julian's voice gets even quieter, almost wondering. "She didn't look at me like I was broken. Just... different. Like different might actually be okay."

The hope in those last words does something devastating to my chest. Because I know exactly what he means. Lila looks at all of us like we're worth figuring out instead of just convenient.

"She does that for all of us," I say, surprised by how rough my voice sounds. "Makes us feel like we could be enough."

Callum lets out a long breath, his shoulders sagging as some of the fight goes out of him. He drops back into his chair. "Don't know what to do. She ran."

The words carry weight beyond their surface meaning. "She left pretty quickly once we told her how we felt," I say. "But thatdoesn't mean she doesn't want us. Sometimes people need time to process."

"That's not necessarily about us," Julian says thoughtfully, lifting his gaze from his hands for the first time since I arrived. "That could be about her. About what brought her here."

He's right, and I know it. The way Lila talks about her past—carefully, with emotional distance—tells a story about someone who's learned not to trust too easily.

"So what do we do?" Callum asks, and there's something almost vulnerable in the question.

Julian straightens on his stool, resolve flickering through the sadness in his dark eyes. "Maybe... maybe we need to approach this differently."

I set my coffee down and cross my arms, giving him my full attention. "How?"

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