Page 171 of Knot So Lucky
This is my space. My sanctuary.
Where I can exist without performing, without calculating, without being Rory Lane the Breakthrough Omega Racer who's making history just by showing up.
I close my eyes, taking deep breaths that slowly calm my racing heart.
The overstimulation begins to fade, replaced by the particular peace that comes from being surrounded by machinery I understand intimately.
No cameras here.
No questions.
No expectations beyond basic mechanical function.
Just me and metal and the quiet darkness that asks nothing of me except to exist.
My breathing evens out. The trembling in my muscles subsides. The raw-nerve feeling of overstimulation dulls to something manageable.
And before I fully realize it's happening, I'm dozing off.
The exhaustion finally catches up with me—two hours of sustained focus and physical demand, weeks of intense training and public pressure, months of hiding and performing and never quite getting to rest fully.
Sleep claims me there under the car, curled on the maintenance platform like it's the most natural thing in the world.
Soft touches to my cheek wake me gently.
Not aggressive or demanding, just careful caresses that coax me back to consciousness without startling. The kind of touch that speaks to someone who understands boundaries and consent even in small gestures.
Quiet purring accompanies the sensation—rumbling contentment that my sleep-foggy brain recognizes immediately.
Shadow.
I turn my head slowly, blinking against the dim light, and find Elias crouched beside the maintenance platform. His round spectacles reflect the emergency lighting, making his green eyes look almost luminous in the shadows.
Shadow sits on his shoulder—her new favorite perch—purring loudly and looking very pleased with herself for locating me.
"Hey," Elias says softly, voice barely above a whisper. "You tired?"
The question is gentle, lacking any judgment or expectation for me to pretend otherwise.
I can't hide my frown.
Don't have the energy to school my expression into something more acceptable.
I just nod, feeling the exhaustion settle back over me like a weight now that I'm awake again.
Elias nods with me, the gesture creating an odd mirror that makes something in my chest loosen. Like he's sayingI understandwithout requiring me to explain or justify.
Then he's moving, lowering himself carefully onto the maintenance platform beside me despite the tight quarters. The space isn't really designed for two people, but Elias makes it work, sliding in with the kind of efficient movement that speaks to years spent in cramped garage spaces.
He pulls me against him before I can protest—not demanding, just offering comfort with the expectation I'll accept because pack bonds mean mutual care.
And god, it feels good.
His sandalwood-and-steel scent wraps around me, mixing with my smoke-and-vanilla in ways that create immediate calm. His body is warm and solid, providing an anchor when everything else feels like too much.
"You can take a quiet moment any time you want," he whispers directly into my ear, his breath warm against my skin. "And I can make sure to stop the world for you when you need it."
The promise settles over me with profound weight.
