Page 4 of Knot Over You

“I didn’t,” she says. “But emails don’t just disappear.”

Another minute and she turns the screen to show us a downright convincing picture… that never fucking happened.

“This is ridiculous,” I say as I take her phone. But there’s Monroe’s tattoo he got when his dad died right there, and there’s Georgia straddling his hips in a bikini. “Someone photoshopped it.”

“Your tattoo is there. And that’s Georgia, Monroe. I’m not buying your lies. Just let me go,” she says as she reaches out and takes her phone back before turning around.

“Wait!” Felix yells as he rushes forward and snatches it from her, zooming in on Georgia’s leg. “That’s your leg.”

“What’s my leg?” she scoffs.

“The scar there,” he points out as he zooms in further. A thick scar that runs from her upper thigh to knee diagonally. “You got that when you swung too far on that swing. They tried to blur it out but I can still see it.”

She deflates then, her shoulders dropping as horror takes over her features. The tears of frustration finally spill over and I can’t take it. I hesitate just as I reach her but when she doesn’t flinch away I pull her into a hug.

“I’m so sorry.” The words we all wanted to hear for so long are finally hanging there in the air between us but it’s not how I wanted it to happen. Not alleviating our pain at the expense of hers. And honestly this doesn’t make it hurt less… just, different.

“You need food,” Monroe says roughly. I choke on a laugh. Typical alpha, fixing it any way he can and food is always a solid go-to.

“I’m not hungry,” she mumbles but doesn’t protest as we head for the diner down the street.

Now that we’re in the brightly lit diner I get a real look at Dakota. She’s changed, though that’s not unexpected. Her blonde hair is long and wavy, makeup subtle, and clothes girlier than she used to dress. Definitely a far cry from the tomboy vibe she had back in the day, but she’s just as gorgeous. Clothes don’t change that.

“Fuck,” she breathes out.

“Language,” Monroe mumbles lamely, making us all laugh. Even his lips tip up in a smirk.

“You still pretend you don’t cuss?” she asks with a raised eyebrow. “I figured that’d change when you went to college.”

“I didn’t go to college,” he counters. There’s still an animosity, like he is holding back the snarky ‘you’d have known that if you’d stayed’.

“Oh,” is all she says. “So what do you do?”

“I own a real estate company,” he says, like it’s not a big deal. But he’d worked his ass off to make a name for himself in a predominantly omega run field and eventually branched out on his own. He was charming when he wanted and a hardass when fighting for clients, the perfect combination.

“This small talk feels wrong,” Felix says. He’s always the one to address the elephant in the room.

“It does,” she agrees quickly. We’re saved by the waitress, all of us ordering our greasy burgers and shakes like we’re still eighteen. But honestly, what goes better with alcohol than greasy food?

“Why are you in town?” Monroe asks. It’s the first time his voice isn’t hard or angry and she relaxes a bit as a frown takes over her face. Her vibrant blue eyes are even dull as she considers it.

“Georgia is getting married to her pack. I just got in tonight and mother found out, so she called to remind me that I’m a terrible daughter, sister, and still a failure. So the whiskey was a must,” she summarizes. “It’s fairly on par for her, in fact she remembered our last conversation in person almost word for word.”

“Is that why you moved so far away?” I ask. She nods and glances out the window like she’s searching for the right words.

“Mom had set me up on a blind date for dinner that night. She went all out and not surprisingly, Georgia is the one who stole the show and flirted, catching their attention. So after they left she chewed me out, reminding me that I’m an awful omega and listing all of my shortcomings. Then as I went upstairs, Georgia taunted me with details of your supposed night together. I fought her on it, said you’d never do that to me, then she showed me the pictures and I was broken enough to buy it. I was gone that night while they slept and never looked back. This town didn’t hold anything for me anymore,” she explains.

“It did, though. You didn’t even give us a chance to defend ourselves or to say goodbye,” Monroe says angrily.

“I don’t know what to say. It’s hard to refute when she gave me pictures. Look how hard you had to look to find something wrong with it!” she protests.

“Give me your phone,” he demands, holding out a hand. When she complains he simply curls his fingers urging her to comply without saying another word. Monroe has that dominant, broody thing down.

Well, this is going well.

Monroe

“Why?” she asks as she hands it over. I don’t bother to answer her as I pull up the contact I’m looking for and hit the button to call. Turning it on speaker, I click down the volume so only we can hear it ring.

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