Page 80 of Knot a Bad Idea

His mood swings give me whiplash.

Do I want to try with the man that told me I wasn’t good for him, but then tells me he misspoke and meant to say he’s not good enoughforme?

Donovan has communication issues, to say the least. We both purposely concealed who we were to each other when we first met, and that should have been the first red flag.

Do I want to try with him?

My first answer isyes.My inner Omega would do anything just to be near him. He’s handsome, brilliant, and smells likehome—I wanteverythingwith him.

But then I think back to the girl that stayed alive in that room, imagining a world where she could bake again with her friends and family.

What would she want? What does she deserve?

I look at Donovan, and I don’t know.

Donovan must see my answer, because he clears his throat and moves a lock of hair away from my face. I close my eyes at his touch, sighing at the contact.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. “I’m sorry I ever made you question your worth.”

I swallow and tears fill my eyes.

“Sleep well, April,” he murmurs, then heads down the hallway, leaving me for the evening.

I call after him, but he ignores me.

I groan in frustration and enter the bedroom, keeping the door cracked.

Donovan is a headache. But he’s a handsome, delicious smelling headache that tears at my heart and makes my pussy throb.

Damn him.

I flip on the light to the bedroom, take one look at the bed, and gasp.

“What the hell?” I whisper.

I haven’t seen this bedroom in more than two weeks. Last time I was in it, it was a well-kept nest made with thick woven blankets and tons of pillows.

What’s before me is extravagant.

I’ve seen these types of nests in magazines, but I never thought anyone actuallyhadthem.

The bed has been replaced with a mattress so wide it can easily fit the four of us, and thick, fluffy comforters are piled on all sides. Body length pillows along with average sized pillows line each side, and extravagant silk blankets are folded on top.

I stop counting at ten blankets.

The nest screamsluxury.

I take a step closer and sit on the edge of the bed, groaning in pleasure as the mattress dips with my weight.

I can scent all of them in the nest. Liam, Hunter, but most of all, a thick, rich ocean scent with the slightest hint of salt and citrus.

Donovan’s heady scent is saturated in every pillow and blanket.

He’s behind this.

I flop onto my stomach and bury my face in the fabrics, breathing in his delicious scent.

And as I slowly drift to sleep, bundled in blankets and comforters, I wonder if I’ll ever truly understand him.