Page 98 of Knot That Difficult

“Yeah, and I was wrong, you little shit. Don’t make the same mistake I did.”

April nods. “I agree. Look at this.” She waves at the pile of presents and the letters in my hand. “This is concrete proof that you’re loved. What more do you need?”

I swallow, then turn my gaze back to the plush Wilson, who stares at me with his bright green eyes.

“I don’t know,” I say slowly. “But…I think I’m tired of punishing myself.”

“Good,” Skylar says. “Why don’t you take some baby steps, then? Start with the letters.”

I nod. “I will.”

We finish opening the presents, and I take a moment to survey everything they gifted me.

The best part is every single item holds significance. Every. Single. One.

It’s obvious by Tammy’s smile that she more than approves.

“You’re very fortunate, Devyn,” she says, and I beam.

Before April and Skylar leave for the evening, they help me move all the presents into April’s old room. The new blankets I was gifted go on the bed, and I create a makeshift nest just so I can be comfortable.

“You really don’t mind that I’m using your room?” I ask April, who looks at me curiously.

“Of course not. You feel safe here, right? That’s the goal.”

I nod.

“But,” she continues, “you do have another place where you’re just as safe. And maybe you should try messaging Ben tonight.”

“I will,” I promise her.

I hate not talking to Ben, but I needed the time to process everything.

Despite speaking to Tammy, April, and Skylar, my shame hasn’t gone away completely.

After my friends leave, I take a picture of Wilson on the nightstand and text Ben.

Thank you for bringing Wilson to me. I love you and miss you.

I let out a shaky breath, place the phone down, and change into my sleeping clothes.

After, I sit on top of the blankets and place the pile of letters in my lap.

Then, I begin to read.

17

CONNOR

I holdback Ace’s hair as he dry heaves in the toilet, his lavender scent spoiled and sour.

“This has to fucking stop,” he snarls. “Thishasto.”

I rub his back, my lips pulled into a thin line. “It will.”

But there’s no end in sight. It’s been a week without our Omega, and every moment spent without her is agony.

It’s made both of us sick in different ways. My thoughts won’t stop racing with horrific intrusive images that make me convinced I’m losing my mind.

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