Page 164 of Knot Their Starlet

“About?”

“When I go see my dad, will you come with me?”

I blink up at him, shocked by a few different aspects of his statement.

One, the ‘when’ he goes to see his dad. Not if.

Two, the fact that he wants me to go with him.

“You’ve made up your mind already?”

“For better or worse, I can’t really say no to my Momma. Especially can’t say no to my baby sister,” he sighs. “And they seem to think the situation’s pretty bad.”

“Do you—I don’t mean to doubt you—but do you think that’s a good idea? Especially if he... you know... hurt you as a kid.”

“As a kid is the key part of that statement. He stopped when I got big enough to fight back. I don’t think he’s gonna start anything. I’ll be fine. Physically, at least.”

Emotionally, it’ll probably be a different story.

“And you really think it’ll be helpful if I’m there?”

“I want—I want someone there with me. And—and unfortunately, I think bringing Beck will just cause more issues.”

“He doesn’t approve?”

“He’s a fucking bigot,” he bites out.

I swallow hard, nodding as I avert my gaze.

I should be here comforting Eli. Especially since he’s being all vulnerable when he historically hasn’t been.

But I can’t hide the flare of bitter-tasting jealousy and inadequacy gnawing at my gut.

He and Beck have more history than we do. Hell, we’ve only made out on his kitchen counter. We’re technically nothing more than that. It makes sense that Beck would be the natural choice he’d turn to for emotional support.

“I said something wrong, didn’t I?” Eli sighs, scrubbing a hand down his face. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to. It’s... fine.”

It’s definitely not fine.

I’m not stupid. Of course I know it won’t be fine.

“You—you didn’t say anything wrong,” I say, taking a deep breath and trying to ease the bitter notes of my perfume. “Of course I’ll come with you.”

He leans forward, trying to catch sight of my gaze, but I turn my body towards the front of the bus to avoid it.

He lets out a soft grunt of frustration before reaching out and gripping my chin in his meaty hand and forcing me to meet his gaze.

“Tell me what I said,” he growls. “It’s fuckin’ written across your face. I fucked up. I can’t apologize if I don’t know what I said wrong.”

“What you said wasn’t wrong,” I bite out, reaching up and gripping his forearm. God, even his forearms are fucking jacked. I swear, they’re the size of my thighs or something.

“It is, or you wouldn’t be reacting like this.”

“I just—I just don’t feel like being second place,” I mumble. “But you and Beck have a lot of history. It makes sense he’d be your first choice to bring to this sort of thing.”

He blinks at me, his brows drawing down in confusion before he lets out a soft scoff.

“Don’t scoff at my words, shithead,” I snarl.