Page 12 of Ready or Knot

I roll my eyes. “You already got me out and on the side of a mountain at the literal crack of dawn, Logan. Forgive me for dragging a bit in getting changed so we can go to lunch.” I shake my head even as I pull off my shirt. Running my hands through my hair, I sigh. “Remind me again why we let you pick our Saturday outings? I know I like sunrises, but it’s a bit much even for you this time of year.”

Logan chuckles, a grin plastered on his smug face. “The Omegas seemed to appreciate that I keep you both in shape. Maybe the benefits outweigh the irritation, yeah?”

Damn it.

The last thing I want right now is to be reminded of the party last weekend. Every time I think about it, all I can focus on is Faedra’s long, red hair draping over my hands, her freckles darkening with her blush, her curves pressed against me as she danced with us. And that always leads to—

“Holy hell, man. You need to calm down, or I won’t be able to take you anywhere,” Logan grumbles, and I scowl. I walk into my closet and take a deep breath, hands rubbing my shoulders. The distance doesn’t deter Logan, though. “You scenting is nearly as bad as an Omega. And I, for one, do not have the patience for you trying to secure a hook-up today.”

I grab a new set of clothes, walking straight toward the ensuite, not commenting on whether or not I should fuck someone just to try and get Faedra out of my head.

Instead, I say, “You’re the one that brought up last weekend as if you haven’t been jerking it out every night, too.”

Logan scowls.

“Both of you need to get a move on. This was just delivered by some poor intern for the Council,” Jude growls, filling the rest of my threshold. I pause, turning to him, an eyebrow raised. He holds an envelope up so we can both see it. My throat is suddenly dry, a leaden weight settling in my gut. We haven’t gotten a notice like that in years.

“No way in hell am I opening this thing without a decent amount of liquor in me,” he growls, his scowl lines around his mouth etched deep. “Let’s go.”

He leaves just as quickly as he appeared, feet falling lightly on the hardwood of our home. Logan quirks an eyebrow and follows almost immediately afterward, closing my door with a soft click. Blowing out a breath, I rush through getting ready after our morning hike. Hair adequately styled and my hiking gear replaced with a polo and khaki shorts, I grab my phone and wallet and then head out to meet the guys.

* * *

“Fuck me, we’ve really been shortlisted?” Jude asks, surprise and dread weaving together, making his voice drop until it rumbles through him. “Part of me was convinced they were notifying us to stop trying.”

Ignoring Jude entirely, Logan grins and sets the letter on the table between us, using an empty cup to keep it from folding back up. I scan it, devouring the information, and then take a long pull from my Irish coffee, reminding myself to be prudent. My body isn’t interested in prudence, though, happily reminding me of the feel of Faedra’s skin and the soft timbre of her voice as she sang along to the songs while we danced. Pine mixes with the smells of the restaurant.

“Carter,” Jude groans.

I grunt, rubbing my eyes with my palms before taking another drink.

I’m not sure I can do this again, to be honest. This isn’t the first time we’ve been shortlisted for matching after a gala. In the early days, we were shortlisted after every single one. But a week later, we always received a packet with a single page in it, notifying us that we weren’t matched. By the third time, I was ready to never be shortlisted again. It probably won’t be any different this time, too. When I say as much, Logan purses his lips.

“We’re going to be optimistic, Carter. Jude’s cynicism is enough for all three of us.”

Except I’m the realist between us, the one that looks at whatever is happening and sees it as it is. And the reality is that our numbers are absolute shit for this. If I were looking at this like a business deal, I’d walk out with zero remorse. There was nothing but shattered dreams at the end of this.

Logan shoves me, pulling me from my thoughts, and then unfolds the second sheet of paper. My palms go clammy, and I tip my head back, staring at the pendant lights hanging from the ceiling, unfocusing my eyes and then refocusing them, counting back from ten in my head.

“Is she on there?” Jude asks, the question practically shy, and I drop my head just in time to see him take a long pull from his beer, his cheeks red under his beard.

Logan’s brows are furrowed as he looks it over, and then his lips quirk into a barely there half smile.

“She’s listed second,” he says. “It’s been long enough I don’t remember if the order they’re listed actually matters.”

Jude shakes his head. “They’re alphabetical by last name. That’s what Doug said, at least, and he’d have a pretty good idea of how the internal process works.”

Doug, Willa, and Mark matched with Brianna nearly three years ago. We’d gone to the gala where they’d met. Willa worked for the Council shortly after graduating college, so she knew it could take a while to be matched. Turns out, the first time was the charm.

Part of me still holds a measure of jealousy over it.

I shove the memories aside and clear my throat, moving my empty glass to the edge of the table for the server to take when they’re able. I ask the necessary question without preamble. “Do we consent to being shortlisted?”

Logan sets the list on the table in front of him, smoothing it out. Jude leans over, reading the names.

“I’m not sure,” he says after a minute, his scowl firmly in place again. “I can’t place another name off this list from the gala, and I didn’t spend half the time with her that you both did.”

I press the base of my palms into my eyes again, trying to turn off the part of my brain telling me this was all just a waste of time.

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