Page 100 of The Knotheads Next Door
"His name is Gerald," I tell her, watching as my mother—who never allowed pets when I was growing up due to her allergies—willingly accumulates cat hair on her immaculate slacks. "I found him abandoned by the side of the road. Theo helped me save him."
"Theo," she repeats. "One of your... alphas?"
I flush. "They're not my alphas."
"No?" She gives me a knowing look that mothers across all species have perfected. "Your scent suggests otherwise."
My blush deepens. Of course she'd notice. Anyone with a functioning nose would notice the way my scent has changed, carrying clear notes of Theo, Jasper, and Wells interwoven with my own.
"It's complicated," I say for what feels like the hundredth time today.
"Life usually is," she agrees. "But Rowan, you can't push everyone away forever. Not your family. And not people you care about."
"They pushed me away," I correct her, the hurt bubbling up again. "After my heat ended, they all just... retreated. Like it meant nothing. Like I meant nothing."
"Did you ask them what they're feeling?" she challenges gently. "Or did you assume and run, like you tend to do when things get emotionally complicated?"
The question hits with uncomfortable accuracy. I want to be offended, to argue, but the truth is... she's right. I've spent my life running from complicated emotions, from vulnerability, from the risk of getting hurt. It was easier to assume rejectionand flee than to stay and face the possibility that what happened during my heat might actually mean something real.
"I overheard Wells saying it was a mistake," I say, but even to my own ears, the justification sounds weak. "What was I supposed to think?"
"I don't know," my mother says honestly. "I don't know these men or what they're feeling. But I do know you, Rowan. And I know that running has never actually fixed anything for you. It just postpones the pain."
Gerald, apparently sensing the emotional tension, sits up and pats my mother's cheek with his paw, as if to say "enough serious talk, more attention for the cat." It startles a laugh out of both of us, breaking the tension.
"He's very demanding," I explain, reaching over to scratch under his chin. "Thinks the world revolves around him."
"I can't imagine where he gets that from," my mother says dryly, and for the first time in weeks, we share a genuine smile.
The moment stretches between us—not forgiveness, exactly, but understanding. A first step toward healing the rift that's grown between us.
"I should go," she says finally, carefully transferring Gerald back to my lap. "Your father and I are staying at the Lakeside B&B for another day if you want to talk more."
I nod, not quite able to think about that particular complication right now. "I'll think about it."
She hesitates, then leans over to press a kiss to my forehead—a gesture she hasn't made since I was a child. "Whatever you decide about those alphas, about James, about all of it... we love you, Rowan. That hasn't changed."
I watch her walk back to her rental car, something tight in my chest loosening just slightly. We have a long way to go, my family and I, but for the first time, I can imagine a path forward.
After she drives away, I sit for a long moment, absently stroking Gerald as he purrs in my lap. Then, with a decisive movement, I lift him back into his carrier.
"Come on, Gerald," I say, turning the key in the ignition and hoping for a miracle. The car makes a horrible grinding noise, then miraculously sputters to life. "We're leaving."
I pull back onto the road, but instead of heading toward the highway as planned, I find myself turning the car around, back toward town.
I don't know what I'm going to do yet. I don't know if I'm staying or going, if I'm brave enough to face Theo and Jasper and Wells and ask what they really want. If I'm brave enough to tell them what I want.
But I do know one thing: I'm done running.
Chapter 30
Theo
I'm going to die in this truck. I'm going to die because Jasper drives like a man possessed, taking corners at speeds that make the tires squeal and blowing through stop signs with barely a glance for cross traffic.
"Could you maybe slow down before you kill us all?" I suggest, one hand braced against the dashboard, the other white-knuckled on the door handle. "We can't exactly win Rowan back if we're wrapped around a telephone pole."
"She's got a twenty-minute head start," Jasper growls, not easing up on the gas. "If she hits the highway—"
