Page 38 of Knot My Fault
Reece lets out a small laugh. “Seriously? Nothing is going to happen to me.”
Hollis steps forward. “Tate’s going to be charged with attempted assault. But you? Judewasassaulted last year.There’s nothing attempted about it and if they find the same scent enhancer in that tube…”
The truth finally seems to scare Reece, just enough for him to get the point. However, I don’t need to stay for this. I have a meet to get to and water to swim in and two wonderful men who set this second chance in front of me.
I stalk off toward the water, clearing my mind of last year, of Tate and Reece, of anything that isn’t my love for the sport. One glance over to the side, I catch Bishop with a wide smile on his face, Hollis wrapped around him from behind, both of them mouthing the same words.You got this.
Bishop leans forward, giving me the choice before I curl my fingers into his shirt and drag him into a kiss. Hollis lets out a frustrated whimper as I pull back and kiss the Alpha as well, just barely over Bishop’s shoulder.
Then the whistle blows and I head to lane three, no longer seeing the nightmare of my past but rather a promise for the future.
epilogue
JUDE–AMONTHLATER
The alumni pavilion smells like cheap beer, grilled burgers, and whatever cologne the lacrosse team bathed in before showing up. I know this because Bishop told me when we walked in, wrinkling his nose and muttering something about sensory warfare. To me, it smells like outside and food and too many people, which is fine because I stopped expecting my nose to be useful a long time ago.
Graduation was three hours ago. My cap is somewhere in Bishop's car, my gown is crumpled in Hollis' backseat because he insisted on carrying it for me and then immediately forgot where he put it, and my diploma is in a folder tucked into the bag slung over Bishop's shoulder because apparently I can't be trusted with important documents. He's not wrong. I left my wallet in the natatorium twice this week.
The pavilion is packed with every post-graduation cliché Knotlocke has to offer. Fairy lights strung between poles that weren't designed for them. A DJ playing songs no one asked for. Alumni mingling with current students like the age gap disappears after enough cheap champagne. The auction banners are still up from the final Spring Splash, which raised enough money to fund the swim program for two more years and buy Marsh a new pace clock that he cried over in his office when he thought no one was looking.
Hollis has my hand in his, which is unnecessary because I'm not going to bolt from a barbecue, but his thumb keeps stroking across my knuckles and I've stopped pretending that bothers me. Bishop is on my other side with his fingers resting at the back of my neck, guiding without steering, the way he does everything.
I spot the table before Milo spots me, which gives me approximately four seconds of peace.
"JUDE!" Milo is already on his feet, both arms windmilling like he's directing aircraft on a runway. His long brown hair whips into his brother’s face, though Quentin doesn't even flinch, just reaches up and holds the hair out of his eyes without breaking his conversation with Iris. "Over here! We saved seats! Well, I saved seats. Quentin said saving seats is territorial behavior, and I said good!"
Parker is already shifting down the bench to make room, her smile wide and easy as she elbows one of her Alphas to move hisplate. Fox grumbles but shifts, and Arlo leans across the table to offer me a fist bump that I return before I can decide whether I'm a fist-bump person now.
"Sit down before Milo dislocates something," Parker muses. "He's been tracking you across the lawn for five minutes."
"I have not been tracking. I've been monitoring. There's a difference. Avery, tell him there's a difference."
Avery looks up from where he's tucked against Declan's side, the esports Alpha's arm draped over his shoulder. "There is absolutely no difference," Avery says, grinning. "You were tracking."
Milo gasps with his whole body. Quentin catches his elbow before he tips backward off the bench.
I sit down a seat away from Parker and next to Hollis, who immediately presses his thigh against mine and starts purring at a volume he clearly thinks is subtle. It’s not subtle. Blair, seated across from me with his boots crossed on the bench beside him and his lip ring catching the fairy lights, glances at Hollis' chest and then at me.
"Your Alpha purrs louder than my dishwasher," Blair says. "And I have a very loud dishwasher."
"He's happy," I say. "It's a medical condition."
Hollis beams. "It is. Bishop diagnosed me."
Bishop sits on my other side and reaches across me to steal a fry off Blair's plate. Blair lets him, which from Blair is practically a declaration of brotherhood. "I diagnosed him as impossible," Bishop says. "The purring is a symptom."
Blair's gaze slides back to me. The same look he gave me in that art class months ago when he decided I was worth his money and his attention, in that order. "For the record," Blair says, tapping one nail against his drink, "I always knew Reece had clearance-rack villain energy. Discount evil. Bargainbin cruelty. The man couldn't even sabotage properly without getting caught by a freshman holding a vending machine snack."
Parker snorts so hard her drink almost comes out of her nose. Fox catches her cup and Arlo hands her a napkin. The coordination between the three of them is so practiced it barely looks like a choice anymore.
"Nelson is never going to let that go," I say. "He's already telling people he cracked the case."
"Let him have it," Hollis says, his purr hitching when I lean further into his side. "He's been insufferable about it for weeks. If we take this from him, he'll start showing up to practice with a detective hat."
Milo leans across the table with both elbows planted dangerously close to Parker's plate. "Okay, but can we talk about the fact that Jude literally told Reece to fuck off in front of the entire hallway? Because I wasn't there but Avery heard it from Declan who heard it from Kit who was apparently lurking near the vending machines for unrelated reasons."
Kit, seated at the far end of the table with his legs thrown across Easton's lap, looks up from his phone long enough to say, "I was getting a Sprite."
