Page 70 of Knot a Bad Idea

“It’s my job to take care of you.” He stays still, his eyes cold.

My head spins. “Why are you talking in riddles? Just be honest with me, Donovan. You can do that, right?”

I want to break his walls down, but if he refuses…

“I cannot be what you need, April,” he snarls.

“That’s not your decision. You don’t get to decide what I need.Idecide.”

“You don’t know what you need,” he spits. “If you did, we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.”

My eyes widen, shame building in my chest.

“I misspoke,” he snaps. “I always do, when it comes to you. But I also know that this wouldn’t end well for us. You need something I—we—can’t give you.”

“Youdon’t decide that for me!” I yell in Donovan’s face, all my hurt and shame on display. He remains still as stone, unmovable. “What are you so convinced you can’t give me, Donovan? What are you so sure of? Is itlove?” I choke on the words. “Because I don’t know if I can do that either! I don’t even know if I’m capable. But…you’re my friend, or at least I thought you were. Justtalk to me.”

But his eyes have grown cold, and he simply looks down at me with indifference.

My words meant nothing to him.

“You should go back inside,” he says, an underlying command in his tone. My body fights to disobey him, to stand in the gazebo and tear my heart out in front of him.

“One day,” I say, my voice shaky. “You’ll realize you’re making a mistake.”

His face flickers with emotion, then turns impassive. “Go inside, April,” he says softly.

“I feel sorry for you,” I continue. “I fought to stay alive. You act like you’re already dead.”

I choke out the last words and hurry out of the garden, the metallic scent of Donovan’s blood still on my fingers.

I can’t breathe. My lungs burn, and the bodice doesn’t help me get enough air.

I try to hurry to a bathroom before anyone can see me.

A bathroom that I still can’t locate.

I pass by Connor, who mouths, “I’m sorry.” I shoot a fake smile to him, then head down floral wallpaper covered hallways until IthinkI see what might be a bathroom.

“April!”

There’s a loud, feminine voice behind me, and my stomach drops.

Kelly fills my vision, her powdery Omega scent swarming around me.

This isn’t happening.

Not right now, when I’m on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

I cannot have a conversation with Pack Axton’s ex-girlfriend right now, especially when it feels like there’s a ten-pound lump in my throat.

But Kelly doesn’t notice. She looks lovely in a periwinkle-colored tulle ballgown with a stunning diamond choker around her neck.

She looks like she belongs with Pack Axton.

Kelly’s not broken.

She’s perfect.