Page 70 of Hot Knot Summer
God, I can’t go to jail. I’d never survive it. I’d be the world’s worst inmate—I can’t even handle spiders in the shower, let alone whatever horrors prison holds.
“Emma,” Atlas says quietly, somehow reading the spiral of my thoughts. “I promise you, there’s nothing to worry about.”
Easy for him to say. He’s not the one whose entire life went up in flames, literally, and now has to convince the authorities he had nothing to do with it.
“On a scale of one to completely screwed,” I ask, trying to inject some humor into my voice. “How bad would it be if I just skipped town tonight? I hear Canada is lovely this time of year.”
River snorts. “About a twelve on your scale. Fleeingbefore questioning tends to scream ‘guilty as hell’to the authorities.”
“Besides,” Atlas adds, giving my knee a gentle squeeze. “We’d just have to come find you and bring you back.”
The casual way he says it, as if it’s a foregone conclusion they would chase me down, sends an unexpected thrill through me. I push the feeling away, trying to focus on the actual issue at hand.
“We’ll be right outside the whole time of your interview,” Levi assures me. “And if there’s any problem, which there won’t be, my cousin works in the DA’s office. We have connections.”
The quiet confidence in his voice, the absolute certainty that they’ll protect me, loosens something tight in my chest. It’s been so long since I’ve had anyone in my corner like this, not since Gran died.
“Thanks,” I say, looking down at my mug. “For everything. The room, the clothes, letting me stay here... especially after I barged into your lives like some disaster movie heroine.”
“Best disaster we’ve ever had,” River quips with a wink.
A comfortable silence falls, broken only by the crackling of the fire and the distant hooting of an owl. The last sliver of sun disappears beyond the horizon, leaving us in the warm glow of the iron stove and a few strategically placed lamps.
“Can I ask you something?” Levi says suddenly,drawing all our attention, yet he’s staring at me. “What happened to make you not want an Alpha? Not that we’re pressuring you,” he adds quickly. “I’m just curious.”
The question catches me off guard, though I’m not sure why. I’ve been waiting for one of them to ask for more details since that first day when I’d made it clear I wasn’t looking for any Alpha attachments. I shrug, nibbling on my lower lip as my mind spins through possible answers. I could deflect, make a joke, and change the subject. The guys are all watching me, but none of them push, which I appreciate more than they realize.
“Hey, it’s all good,” River says after a moment, clearly sensing my hesitation. “No deep, dark secrets required.”
Something about his easy acceptance makes me want to answer truthfully. Maybe it’s the hot chocolate warming my insides, the coziness of this tower sanctuary, or just the genuine kindness these three have shown me. Whatever it is, I find myself wanting to be honest, even if it makes me look pathetic.
“It’s nothing exciting,” I say finally. “Just... a pattern I’d rather not repeat.” I pause, gathering my thoughts, and none of them rush to fill the silence.
“I don’t want to be hurt again,” I admit, my voice smaller than I intended. “Rejection just breaks you down after a while, and I’m tired of feeling less. Of losing my self-confidence every time another Alpha tells me I’m not good enough.”
The words flow like a dam breaking after years of pressure.
“My first boyfriend in college told me my scent was too bookish, and it wasn’t sexy enough for him. The next one said I was too independent for an Omega and that Alphas want someone who needs them more.” My laugh is hollow, even to my own ears. “Then there was the guy who said I was too passionate about my writing, and it made him feel secondary. Oh, and let’s not forget the one who said I was pretty enough but not quite what he was looking for in a mate.” I swallow hard, horrified to feel tears pricking at the corners of my eyes.
“The latest, my ex, Chad, told me he wasn’t attracted to me anymore, and my scent waswrong. Like I’d somehow gone bad, like milk left out too long.” I blink rapidly, refusing to let the tears fall.
“And I don’t want you to tell me none of these things are true because, trust me, I tell myself that. But that part of me inside still holds onto those damn words like a lifeline, and I hate it. Hate myself for it. Because I let them get under my skin.”
The silence that follows my outburst feels heavy. I chance a glance up and find all three men watching me with almost frozen expressions.
“Well, those guys sound like complete assholes.” River is the first to break the silence.
“Grade-A fuckheads,” Levi blurts.
“Fucking idiots,” Atlas growls, his hand on my knee tightening slightly. “Every last one of them.”
I laugh, a watery sound that threatens to turn into a sob. “You don’t have to say that. I know I’m a mess. Too emotional, too independent, too everything.”
“No,” Atlas says firmly. “They were wrong, Emma. All of them.”
“You don’t know that,” I counter, my defenses rising automatically. “You barely know me.”
“I know enough,” he insists. “I know you’re brave enough to survive a burning building. You’re talented enough to have published multiple books. You’re strong enough to stand on your own feet, even when you’re still shaking inside.”
