Page 47 of Knot Mine

I turn to look out of the window-wall, and see the day is brightening up, even with the soft flurry of snow falling.

Leaning in, Millie mockingly whispers in Zale’s ear, “Mom says I’m not allowed to let him hide upstairs with his cartoons all weekend.”

“Maybe,” I say with a head tilt, speaking before Zale can add anything. I’m not sure I can handle him making fun of me too right now. “I’m not feeling too great to be honest, I’m going to nap.”

Millie nods, but she’s already turned her attention back to her boyfriend. She waves her hand dismissing me, “Well, don’t let us keep you from your lover.”

As I turn away and open my bedroom door, I hear her say “Oh, that’s a nasty bruise. Did you get that in practice?”

I shouldn’t feel smug about the marks I left on his skin.

That would make me an awful person.

The worst.

But I do.

Chapter Eighteen

Zale

Fuck. I knew he would panic, but I didn’t think he would shut me out again.

I should’ve known better. Clearly, what happens in the darkness, in the heat of the moment, when we’re stripped bare doesn’t translate to the daylight.

When Shiloh opens his door and we collide, I know that he’s once again trying to draw his lines in the sand. He’s got his fake glasses on, as if that changes anything. It’s almost amusing how he thinks those will protect him from me. He can’t hide any longer, last night I saw every inch of him and I wanted more.

There was no easy way to navigate the mess we’d made, but I wanted him to understand that we were in this together. All he had to do was say the word, give me a sign and then we would face it all together. He was mine. And I was his.

Leaning in, I inhale, hating the way the traces of us have been washed away. If I had my way, he would spend every day smelling like us. He melts under my touch, not that he wants me to know that. He wants to drive me away and silence the thing slowly taking shape between us but I can feel it, the way his tension ebbs away, and his breathing slows.

Even when he’s reminding me that we’re both here for Millie and I know he’s deliberately trying to make it painful so I'll accept the space he’s creating, his eyes are begging me to choose him.

Stepping forward, I plan to show him exactly how I feel since he refuses to listen to words, except a familiar voice interrupts, shouting my name. Together we move towards the balcony, and look down at the front door. Millie.

We’re quickly joined by everyone and Millie throws herself at me. I’m forced to catch her, or risk letting her fall, but as she buries her face in my neck, I wince, wanting to push her off me.

Before, I never minded her sweet, sugary scent, but now it makes me feel almost nauseous. It’s similar to the notes I picked up on Shiloh, only much more sweet and almost artificial.

Wanting to offer him comfort, I try to get him to meet my gaze. If he’d just look at me, he’d understand that I have no choice but to go along with this until the weekend is over.

I swallow down my amusement when I see how he’s glaring at us, while still trying to avoid my eyes. I’m not blind, the jealousy scrawled on his face when Millie launches herself at me is crystal clear. But what am I supposed to do? She isn’t a mind reader, she didn’t know that I was waiting to have a serious conversation with her. As far as she was aware, I was her boyfriend and he was her brother.

When she tells me she misses me, I freeze, not sure how to reply before I try to divert. Did I miss Millie last night and the night before?

In all honesty?

No. She’d become a shadow lingering in the back of my mind. A creature with claws, feeding my guilt. I knew, logically, that it wasn’t her fault and she was the innocent party in all of this, but I itched to finally untangle this mess. Once we talked and finallyput this relationship to bed then I could be free of the rain cloud hanging over my head.

I try to get his attention again, but he’s still ignoring me, trying to pretend this thing between us doesn’t exist. But I’m not gonna let him do that anymore.

I’ll give him space because everyone has just arrived and there’s a lot going on, but I refuse to let him think that what happened was just a one-night stand (or was that a two-night stand since it was two separate days?). It doesn’t matter. He wasn’t going to beg ignorance and act like it didn’t happen.

Resolving to speak to him later when everything has calmed down, I watch as he returns to his room, retreating as if he’s folding in on himself and making himself smaller in her presence. How had I never noticed that before?

I fucking hate it.

Evans is standing in the doorway of one of the guest rooms, he’s tossed his shirt somewhere and I can see some scratches and a couple of pretty nasty bruises blossoming on his skin. He looks like he was chucked in a barrel with some bricks and rolled down a hill.

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