Page 72 of Knot Their Girl
Well, it’s good to know Gideon and I are on the same page, at least. As for Raeka… fuck. What are we going to do with her?
Chapter Thirty – Raeka
I make it to my room, slam the door, and rip off my heels. The next thing that comes off is the damn dress, and I’m in the process of pulling on my fuzzy pajama bottoms when someone knocks on my door.
Fuck. They can’t even let me storm away in peace.
“Go away,” I hiss out as I pull on my shirt. I leave the pretty dress in a crumpled heap on the ground, not caring if it gets wrinkly or dirty. Every time I look at that stupid dress I’m just going to think about this part of the night.
And to think, up until Gideon and I came home, it was actually a good night. I had a good time with him. I… I was feeling things I shouldn’t.
That just goes to show feeling anything for these guys is a mistake.
But of course the person in the hall doesn’t go away. He comes in anyway, and I’m about to tell him off when I see it’s Colter, not either of the alphas. I relax only a little; out of the three of them, Colter was the calmest one, the one with the least amount of judgement on his face.
“Just go away,” I mumble, going to my bed and crawling under the covers. Freshly-washed, with that untouched feeling. There really is nothing better than clean sheets. “I don’t want to talk right now.”
But, again, he doesn’t go. He shuts my door and pads over to my bed, where he joins me. The beta crawls under my sheets and rests his head on my pillow next to mine like he’s been in my bed before—he hasn’t. I’ve been in his, but this… this is a first. He grabs my hand and squeezes.
I don’t want to say anything, and I sure as shit don’t want to cry. I have nothing to cry about. Still, my voice wavers whenI whisper, “You guys must think I’m a shitty omega—and I am. I’m sorry. You all deserve better than me. You deserve an omega who’s happy to be doted on and loved, not me.”
The comforter over our heads block out most of the light from the ceiling, but enough shines through that I’m able to see Colter gazing steadily at me. He lets go of my hand so he can touch my face, and he turns my head so that our foreheads touch. For a few seconds, we remain exactly like that, with his hand on my cheek and his warmth slowly seeping into me.
A single tear escapes the corner of my eye, and it follows the curve of gravity. He wipes it away, and then he presses his lips against my cheek, right where he thumbed away the tear. He sits up abruptly, tossing the comforter off us both. Only after pulling his tablet out of his hoodie pocket does he take his hoodie off.
I watch him in confusion, not knowing what he’s doing.
Once the hoodie is off and out of the way, he wears nothing but a shirt on his chest, and he sits so close to me his left leg brushes against my right beneath the sheets. He offers me his hand, his gaze expectant.
No, wait. Not his hand. He’s showing me something.
His wrist—or, more likely, the scars on them.
I suck in a hard breath, unable to do anything more than that for a few seconds as it all comes together in my head. Why he always wears a hoodie, why he only took it off once for me—when we were outside, in the dark, where his scars wouldn’t be noticeable. I’ve never seen him in the light like this. Anytime we were close, it was always in the dim light or the utter darkness.
“Colter,” I whisper his name, slow in bringing a hand to his wrist and tracing the scars with a tentative fingertip. “I… I didn’t know.” All this time, I knew the beta was dealing with his own trauma, but I didn’t know this was how he dealt with it before.
He lets me study the scars for a while, lets me touch them in a way I doubt he’s ever let anyone touch them before. After a whilehe gets his tablet and types something out:Gideon doesn’t like talking about it. Neither do I.
I swallow. It’s none of my business, but I find myself asking, “Did you just want to hurt yourself, or were you trying to…” For some reason, I can’t say it out loud:kill yourself.
The thought of Colter being suicidal just doesn’t sit right with me. It tugs at my heartstrings in a way nothing ever has, makes me feel so lost, so forlorn. He’s been through so much, seen more than a child ever should, and selfishly I want him to be strong—but at the same time, he has every right not to be. He was just a kid when he lost his parents, when he was trapped in that car with them, after literally watching his mom die. His whole life changed after that, and not for the better. Gideon did what he could, of course, but nothing could ever be the same for him.
Colter shrugs and types out,Don’t know. Both, maybe?
I don’t say anything. I can’t. All I can do is lean on his shoulder and keep rubbing the scars on his left wrist.
I wasn’t happy. For a long time, I didn’t feel anything. I felt pain, though. The first few times, I think that’s what I wanted. To remind myself that I was still alive. And then… nothing got better. Everything sucked. I hated being alive, so I started to cut myself a little deeper. Gideon found me one afternoon. The paramedics told him if he hadn’t found me and slowed the blood loss, I would’ve died. That was two years ago, now.
I stop tracing his scars and interlock my fingers with his left hand. The thought of the world being bereft of Colter is a terrible one, one that both haunts me and makes my heart ache in my chest. “I’m sorry you felt like that was your only way forward,” I whisper, even though I know my words aren’t enough. “But I am glad you’re still here.”
And I’m glad you’re here.He doesn’t type anything else out right away. He holds up his tablet toward me and makes sure I stare at that sentence for a good, long while before he adds,Ihaven’t been happy in a long time, but when I’m with you it’s easy.
I close my eyes. He’s trying to comfort me, to make me feel better… to prove that I should be here, with them. With him. I want to believe it. I might be a cynical bitch sometimes, but I’d be lying if I say the thought hasn’t crossed my mind.
Maybe this could be my forever. Maybe these guys are my pack.
Colter moves. Though my eyes are closed, I have to assume he set his tablet aside, because in the next moment, his body has turned toward mine and his other hand is on the side of my face. His lips press against mine softly, as if everything he said needs further proof of being real.
