Page 19 of Knot Her Beta

By the time I reach the water, the urge to text Auren is as strong as it ever was, but I keep my hands in my pockets and my eyes on Jared. He’s already at the dock, with a wrench in one hand and grease up to his elbow, crouched over the hull of the second-hand skiff brought in for island tours.

Engine oil and salt spray stain his overalls, and the knees bear patches from last week’s mishap. I watch him for a minute, the steady rhythm of his hands calming me, before his head lifts.

“Em.” He brightens when he spots me, the wrench still turning in his hand. “Was that you texting? Sorry, I didn’t catch it⁠—”

He stops as he catches my expression and sets the wrench down on the hull. “Hey. What happened?”

I hold out my phone. “Auren.”

He pulls the rag from his pocket and wipes his hands before he takes it. He reads the texts once.

Then again, before he sets the phone beside his tools. “You good?”

“I’m okay.” The words ring hollow, and we both hear it.

He tugs me forward by the front of my jacket, leaving grease smears on the canvas, and kisses me quick and hard, mouth tasting of the cold and a little bit of coffee. He holds me after, chin on my temple, arms holding me close.

“How bad is it?” he murmurs.

“Not bad. Just… It’s like muscle memory.” My throat tightens. “I see his name and my brain… defaults.”

He keeps holding me, the creak of the dock and the slap of rope on the pilings filling the silence.

I try to explain it. “I keep thinking if I— If I handle it right, if I keep a lid on it, if I ignore him long enough—he’ll stop needing things from me. But he doesn’t.”

“No, he doesn’t.” Jared rests his chin more heavily against my temple, as if to pin me in place. “But you don’t have to give it to him.”

I don’t move.

“You understand that, right?” He pulls back, his sea-glass green irises luminous in the gray morning. “You don’t owe him a reply. You don’t owe him a damn thing. Not your time. Not your headspace.”

“I still carry a lot of guilt for leaving him at Safe Harbor,” I admit. “Sometimes, I still can’t shake the belief that I should’ve done more.”

“You did more than anyone else would’ve. Even when it nearly broke you.” His hand cups the back of my neck, thumb moving in slow circles to ease the tension from my muscles. “Let yourself be done with it.”

A long, salt-laden wind blows in from the water, flapping the canvas tarps on the moored boats, and a seagull lands on the piling, head cocked, ready to scavenge anything we might drop.

After a bit, I say, “I’m worried I’m punishing Leif for what Auren did.”

Jared’s hand stills.

“I understand that he’s not the same as Auren,” I rush to add, “but I keep catching myself pulling away. Not letting him in. Like if I keep him at arm’s length, I can’t fuck it up. Or he can’t hurt me.”

Jared drops his hand to see me better. “He’s not Auren.”

“I do understand. But the reflex is the same.” I fold my arms, fingers digging into my sides. “Leif said he’s not going to give up, and that he’s going to win his way back.”

Jared nods. “He wants you. I never doubted that part.”

I gnaw on my bottom lip. “Should I let him back in?”

Jared wipes his forehead with the back of his wrist, leaving a streak of black above his eyebrow. “Do you want to?”

“I don’t know what I want. That’s the problem.”

“I think you do.” He taps my chest, where the flutter of a bond for Leif hasn’t quite died. “But you’re scared of wanting it.”

My breath hitches. “What if he hurts me again?”