Page 120 of Knot So Social

The words roll off my tongue so easily I could even fool myself. Alessandro as my packmate?

An officer steps forward, peering at me. “You seem worked up. Is something wrong?”

I grind my teeth together and flap my shirtfront. “Must be the heat, officer. Can I take my van now?”

“Right after I write you a parking violation.”

A faint growl vibrates my chest.

He looks up. “Something to say?”

Keep your mouth shut, Joel. Keep your mouth shut.

“Bit harsh isn’t it?” Fucking dammit, Joel! But the heat bubbling inside makes my mouth keep running away. “I haven’t been gone long, and like I said, it was an emergency.”

I point at the van and shrug.

His partner lifts his eyebrows. “An emergency? You got a hospital admission record then?”

“No, we took him home.”

“You live around here?”

“I’m . . . staying in the area.” That’s the best I can manage.

The first officer reaches out. “Let’s see your license.”

I pass it over, straining not to punch someone. My hormones rage out of control and I feel like a prisoner trapped inside, going along for the joy ride. I must have a fraction of luck left in my life, because my fists stay at my side while the officer checks my address and writes the ticket.

And when he passes my license back, the address on the card jumps out at me. The ticket will go to my old place, where Tracey is. Yeah, I gotta deal with that nonsense right away.

My jaw aches from smiling politely by the time the officers go back to their patrol car and I get the bike loaded in the back among my tools. Small blessings, nobody broke in while I was away. Probably thanks to this fancy neighborhood where people are too busy watching their stock portfolios to jimmy a locked van open.

I drive back to Willow’s house with deliberate slowness, circling the block a few times to see if the cops followed. When the coast looks clear, I drive up to the house and wheel the bicycle to the shed. The omega’s forced neatness exists out here too, although the dust suggests no one’s used this space in years.

When I walk back to the house, the sun beating down and gravel crumbling under my boots, a sense of doom settles over me. I lean against my blunt-nosed van and stare up at the mansion. Doesn’t seem like the sort of place I belong.

Even more so with Jeremy and this Alessandro fellow inside.

There’s no room for me in that beautiful omega’s life. She has to know we’re scent matches, but she pulled away when she realized. Plus, I can’t be certain, but she might even be afraid of me. If my presence makes her uncomfortable, well, I can’t go back inside the house.

I text Jeremy that I’m heading out and climb back into my van. But driving away makes nausea roll in the pit of my stomach, and that unfamiliar aggression still lingers, just below the surface.

It’s a terrible idea, really, but after an hour of mindless driving, I head to the one place I never wanted to return to. When I pull up in the driveway of my old house, Jock goes nuts behind the side gate, and his happy barks put a smile on my face.

Tracey’s familiar voice shouts from the back door. “Shut up! Stop the noise, you stupid mutt!”

I click the garage door opener on my sunshield. Her shoes tat across the decking, and then she gasps. “Joel? Is that you?”

I shove my door open and get out, stealing myself. “Yep.”

The door slams and Tracey runs back through the house, coming out the front smiling from ear to ear. “I knew you’d be back.”

That smile, like nothing’s wrong, and the way she spreads her arms for a hug, sicken me to the core. I stare, wondering how my interest for her could dry up so fast.

“Joel?” she steps closer, trying to hug me.

I hop back out of reach. “I came to get my things.”