Page 86 of Knot on the Market

"Tell me why it's complicated," I say, settling back in my chair.

She takes another deep breath, organizing her thoughts in a way I recognize, the same careful mental filing I do when I'm trying to make sense of overwhelming information.

"I worked really hard on that film. We all did. It was a passion project about women in WWII that almost didn't get made because studios thought it wouldn't find an audience. If it wins, it validates everything we fought for." She pauses, staring into her coffee. "But going back means stepping into that world again. Seeing Dustin and his pack, probably. Dealing with reporters who'll want to know about my 'extended vacation' and whether I'm planning to return to work."

Her voice gets smaller with each word, and I can see her shoulders tensing with the weight of trying to protect everyone's feelings simultaneously.

"You're afraid of going alone," I say, because sometimes the kindest thing you can do is voice the fear someone's trying to manage by themselves.

"I can't ask you to come with me," she whispers. "Any of you. You have jobs, lives here. It would be selfish to expect you to drop everything for my Hollywood stuff."

The words hit every protective spot I have, not because they're painful, but because they're honest. They're coming from someone who's genuinely terrified of being a burden to people she loves.

"Can I tell you what I see?" I ask.

She nods, looking up at me with those wide green eyes that trust me to understand what she can't quite say.

"I see someone who's trying to protect the people she loves from having to choose between their comfort and her needs," I say. "I see someone who's been taught that asking for support is selfish, so she's trying to handle something scary alone instead of trusting us to want to help."

Her eyes widen, and I realize how that might sound.

"You see me," she whispers, and there's wonder in her voice instead of judgment. "You really see what I'm afraid of."

"Of course I do. You're afraid of being a burden. Afraid of asking too much. But Lila..." I lean forward, needing her to understand this. "We'd go anywhere with you. Support anything you need to do. The only thing we can't handle is you trying to protect us from choices we want to make."

"Do you want us there?" I ask, my voice rough with emotion. "Not whether you think we'd be comfortable, not whether it's convenient. Do you want us with you?"

She looks up at me with those wide green eyes, and I can see the exact moment her careful control cracks. "Yes," she breathes. "God, yes. I can't imagine facing all of that without you. Any of you. But I don't want you to feel like you have to?—"

"Then we'll be there," I say simply, and watch relief flood her face. "All of us."

"You'd really do that?" she asks, her voice small with wonder. "Go with me to something like that?"

The vulnerability in the question hits me hard. Like she can't quite believe that people who love her would be willing to step into her world, even temporarily.

"Lila." I lean forward, needing her to see the truth in my eyes. "We'd do anything for you. Support you through anything. Even if it means wearing uncomfortable formal wear and learning to navigate Hollywood politics."

My mind is already running through logistics—flights, hotel rooms, the kind of formal wear that won't embarrass her in frontof cameras. None of it matters compared to the look on her face right now.

"But what if—" she starts, then stops.

"What if you decide you want to stay in that world?" I finish. "Then we'll figure that out together. All of us. Because Lila, I'd move to LA tomorrow if that's what you needed. We all would."

"I'm scared," she admits.

"Of course you are. You'd be crazy not to be scared of facing something that hurt you." I stroke my thumb across her knuckles. "But fear isn't a reason not to do something. Sometimes it's a compass pointing toward what matters most."

"What if I'm not as strong as you think I am?"

The question breaks my heart, because I can hear echoes of Dustin's voice in it.

"Then we'll catch you if you fall," I say simply. "That's what we're here for."

The sound of the front door opening interrupts us, followed by Dean's cheerful voice calling out, "Morning! I brought donuts from Maeve's!"

Lila starts to pull her hand away from mine, but I hold on gently. Not possessive, just present.

"We should tell them," I say quietly. "Together."

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