Page 82 of Knot Your Problem, Cowboy
“No,” she agrees. “But it doesn’t stop me from thinking about it.”
We fall quiet again, but it’s a different kind of silence now. Not avoidance. Just… charged, like the air before a summer storm.
She tips her head, studying me. “You really don’t smell anything? Not even a hint?”
“Nothing,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck. “It’s like… radio static. I know there’s supposed to be something, but all I get is fuzz.”
She glances over, watching me closely.
“But you?” I let out a slow breath. “You’re not static. You’re loud. Sharp. The kind of noise that keeps a man up at night.”
Her lips twitch. “Loud, huh?”
I nudge her boot with mine. “Not always a bad thing. Just means I walk into rooms and miss the smell of burned coffee or food but somehow still noticewhen you’re near. Go figure.”
She laughs, warm and unguarded, and it settles something in my chest.
We fall into silence again. Not awkward, but just full. The kind of quiet that hangs heavily between two people carrying more than they say.
She hasn’t pulled away from me. Hasn’t made an excuse to leave. That surprises me more than it should. Most people look at me too long and decide they’ve seen enough. But not her. She’s still here. Still warm at my side. Still leaning in like maybe I’m worth staying for.
She clears her throat softly. “My ex did the same to me,” she says. “Different circumstances, but same result. Ripped my life away without my say.”
I don’t respond. Just wait. Sometimes silence does more than words ever could.
“I was forced into a match with him. Family arrangement. He wasn’t my scent match, but our families thought we were perfect on paper. Good for business, good for bloodlines.” Her voice goes bitter. “My family kept blaming me for not making him happy. Kept saying I wasn’t trying hard enough, wasn’t Omega enough.”
“Sounds like they were assholes.”
She huffs a dry laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “I really thought at first it would just take some time, as he was kind initially. Then, after several months together, I was convinced he’d reject me officially. Let me go. Instead, he kept me around to save face. To the world, wewere the perfect couple. Behind closed doors? I was a ghost. He barely spoke to me, didn’t touch me after the first few times. I was just… there. Existing but not living.”
My jaw tightens. Something cold and angry rises in my chest, sharp enough to make my fingers twitch. Knowing the bastard is already in the ground doesn’t make it easier. Doesn’t stop the anger from curling in my gut. Can’t hurt him now, but that doesn’t kill the urge. She doesn’t need revenge, though. She needs someone who actually sees her. Someone who stays.
“Fuck.” The word slips out anyway, low and guttural.
“Sometimes I wonder why he left me this ranch in his will. Was it some twisted final gesture? Or did he set it up when we first got together and just forgot to change it?” She turns her face into my shoulder. “Probably the latter. I was always forgettable to him.”
I set my glass down on the ground and shift, tugging her closer to me. Her body molds against my side, soft and heartbreakingly real, and I wrap my arms around her before the fury gets the better of me.
“He was a fucking idiot,” I murmur. “Had no idea how lucky he was to have you.”
She sinks into the embrace, and for a second, everything else disappears. Just the two of us and the night, and the pieces of our pasts we’re finally letting someone else see.
My body notices every inch of her pressed againstme. How could it not? But I shut it down. This isn’t about wanting her. Not right now. This is about her needing someone to prove she’s not invisible.
After a long moment, I point to a patch of stars just above the tree line. “You know what constellation that is?”
Her head lifts slightly. “Which one?”
“Andromeda,” I say, lifting my hand to trace the pattern in the sky. “See those four stars in a curved line there? That’s her torso. The ones branching out mark her arms, chained to the rock. The rest trails off toward Pegasus.”
She squints up at the night sky, following the lines I draw in the air. “Huh. I wouldn’t have guessed those looked like a woman chained to a rock.”
“Most people don’t.” I glance at her, then back at the stars. “But the story sticks.”
She settles closer, cheek brushing my chest again. “What’s that?”
I let out a slow breath. “Andromeda was a princess. Her mother bragged that she was more beautiful than the sea nymphs. Gods didn’t like that. So they punished the whole kingdom by sending a sea monster to wreck everything. To stop it, her parents chained her to a rock as a sacrifice.”
