Page 55 of The Knotheads Next Door
I slam my fist against the counter, welcoming the pain that shoots through my hand. What the hell was I thinking? Kissing her, touching her, nearly taking her right there in the kitchen like some animal unable to control its baser instincts.
This is exactly why I don't trust myself around omegas. Why I built walls so high and so thick after Julia left. Because once you let them in, they destroy everything—your control, your judgment, your heart.
And Rowan, with her stubborn determination and dry humor and the way she looks at me like she actually sees me, not just the grumpy alpha exterior I present to the world...
Rowan could destroy me completely, if I let her.
I clean up the broken glass on autopilot, my mind still replaying the kiss, the feel of her against me, the sound of my name on her lips. By the time I finish, it's nearly three in the morning, and I'm no closer to figuring out what to do.
Two weeks. We just need to get through two more weeks, and then she'll be gone. Out of our house, out of our lives. Things will go back to normal—me and Theo and Wells, and the comfortable routine we've built.
So why does the thought fill me with a nameless dread instead of relief?
I head up to my room, knowing sleep will be even more elusive now than it was before. As I pass Rowan's door, I pause, pressing my palm flat against the wood. On the other side, just a few feet away, she's probably lying awake too. Thinking about the kiss. About me.
About what might have happened if Gerald hadn't intervened.
I force myself to keep walking, to close my bedroom door behind me, to lie down on my bed and stare at the ceiling.
Two weeks. I can maintain control for two weeks.
I have to.
Chapter 16
Theo
Something's different between Rowan and Jasper. The kitchen has always been a stage for our strange four-person dance, but today the choreography has shifted dramatically. Jasper, normally grumpy but direct, won't look at Rowan at all. And Rowan, who's been generally avoiding all of us lately, is specifically avoiding him—keeping the island between them at all times, tensing when he moves near her, her scent spiking with a complex mixture of emotions I can't quite untangle.
Something happened.
Wells notices too, his sharp eyes flicking between them, cataloging the new tension. But he says nothing, just sips his coffee and watches with that analytical expression he gets when he's processing data.
"Morning," I say as I enter, keeping my tone deliberately casual. "Anyone want pancakes?"
"I'm late," Jasper grunts, grabbing his travel mug and heading for the door without making eye contact with anyone.
The silence after he leaves is heavy, loaded with unspoken words.
"I should get ready for work too," Rowan says, setting her half-empty coffee mug in the sink with exaggerated care.
"Actually," I say, "Crystal let me know that she's opening late today because of a dentist appointment. You've got an extra hour."
Rowan blinks, then narrows her eyes suspiciously. "She didn't text me."
"She asked me to tell you when I ran into her at the grocery store yesterday," I lie smoothly. In truth, I just want to check on her, and this seemed like the best way to get her alone for a few minutes.
Wells gives me a look that says he knows exactly what I'm doing, but he mercifully remains silent.
"I've got a meeting with the mayor," he says, standing and gathering his things. "Don't forget the festival committee meeting tonight, Rowan. They're expecting your help with the flower arrangements."
She nods, still looking uncomfortable. "Right. Flowers. Arranging. I'll be there."
As soon as Wells leaves, the kitchen feels both emptier and less tense. Rowan exhales, her shoulders dropping slightly.
"So," I say, opening the fridge to pull out eggs and milk, "pancakes?"
She hesitates, then nods. "Sure. I can help."
