Page 72 of Knot That Serious

Eli groaned. “Ugh! Jack, can’t you just—be a little less reasonable?”

“Nope,” Jack responded. “Not when it comes to you.”

And Eli… Eli hated that he was suddenly being the voice of reason, when she felt like all sense and reason had abandoned her. She should’ve just gone to the Omega Center, because she had a feeling nothing was ever going to be the same between them again.

“Since when was there something you couldn’t tell me, huh?” he asked.

Eli remained quiet, thoughts racing as her stare fell away from the alpha and bounced around the room.

“We shared your heat, no big deal.”

Except it was a much bigger deal than Eli had anticipated.

“It’s not like anything’s changed, Eli!” Jack added.

That’s just what she needed: a reminder that she was alone in her feelings. Anger bubbled anew and she snapped her head around to Jack.

“I don’t wanna fucking talk about it, Jack!” she yelled. “So stop pushing.”

They were both taken aback by her shout, the force of emotion in her voice.

Eli’s bottom lip trembled and she turned away from him, grabbing her helmet. “I’ll see you at home,” she said.

Then she pushed out the back door of the bakery, finding her bike awaiting her. The heavy metal door slammed loudly behind her, and she startled.

Tears welled, and Eli fought them, tilting her head up to the sky. She counted down from ten, and then restarted at twenty. When she was confident she could drive without tears impairing her vision, she straddled the bike and pulled her helmet on.

“Ugh,” she groaned again, the sound muffled even to her own ears.

The ride home took less than a handful of moments, and soon she was pulling into the parking garage and turning her bike off.

God, what if Beckett was upstairs, waiting for her?

That seemed like such a Beckett thing to do. In fact, Jack probably texted him. Told him about how she’d yelled at him and asked him to check on her.

Her eyes burned with the threat of waterworks, and she yanked off her helmet and sat there for a moment. What were her options?

She could go upstairs and risk running into Beckett and spilling her secrets, or…

Or she could leave her helmet with her bike and take a short walk. Maybe just grab a chai down the street and give herself time to put her emotions under lock and key once more.

“I’m Fort fucking Knox,” she said to herself, sniffling.

Decision made, she locked her helmet up. It wasn’t likely to get stolen in their building’s garage anyway. Too many cameras.

Mind made up, she checked her pockets for her phone, wallet, and keys, and set off on foot.

She knew she looked a mess, figuring her pale complexion was spotty from crying, eyes red-rimmed and hair wild from the helmet. She tried to comb her pink hair into some semblance of order, and gave up by the time she hit the sidewalk.

She sniffled again, replaying the hurt look in Jack’s eyes when she’d yelled at him.

It wasn’t like they’d never yelled at each other. They’d been together for twenty years, and that didn’t happen without a few disagreements.

But the difference now was that they weren’t talking about this one. They couldn’t. And Eli had to make sure it stayed that way.

So, fine. Things would remain the same. Eli would get up at three a.m., like usual and go to the bakery, and bake, and then she’d pass Jack on her way out and they’d hardly talk until that evening.

Then he’d go on a date with Beckett or something, and she’d hole up in her nest and watch stupid movies on her laptop.

---