Page 30 of Knot Her Beta

My brow furrows. “Do you think they’d expect you to move into the Homestead?”

He snorts. “Hell, no. Holden doesn’t want me in his kitchen, making a mess.”

“Then why not join?” I ask, baffled. “They could give you so much.”

“I could turn that question around on you.” The fish comes apart under his hands, pink flesh separating from silver skin. “Why aren’t you joining? Chloe’s made the offer.”

“She just wants her best friend close by,” I scoff. “That’s not the same as wanting me in her pack.”

Kyle cocks an eyebrow. “You think that cabin she built was about convenience?”

I pick at a loose thread on the cuff of my sleeve. “Honestly, I don’t understand pack dynamics. I was raised in a Beta. We don’t... do that.”

“I grew up in a pack bigger than the Wrights.” Kyle sets the fillet aside and lifts out a second fish. “It was my parents, my mom’s siblings, and their kids. I was the only Beta, and everyone had an opinion on everything I did.”

“Was that hard?”

“It had its ups and downs.” He lifts a shoulder. “More downs, though, which is why I left as soon as I could.”

“You and Jared grew up together, right?”

“Yeah. It was nice having him around. Jared’s scent-blindness made him practically a Beta. He didn’t understand all the fuss about pheromones, either.” His lips quirk at the corners before he sobers. “I felt bad ditching him, knowing the value our family put on secondary genders.”

“Which is why you put in a good word for him when the position opened here.”

“Yep. My aunt had already made it clear he was out once he finished with school. I would have given him my couch, but he’s stubborn and wouldn’t have stayed without work.”

Kyle’s voice softens. “Our pack was all about who could scent who. Who could claim who. The Wrights aren’t like that. Sure, they touch more than I’m used to. But I’ve met touchy Betas, too. It’s not about what you are. It’s about who you are.”

I stare at where water beads beneath the cooler. “My family isn’t touchy. Hugs stopped when I turned twelve. Now, my dad only shakes my hand, and my mom pats my shoulder on holidays.”

“That’s rough.”

“It’s what I was used to, until I went to university. Then I met Chloe.” The memory of Chloe’s first hug surfaces, awkward, desperate, her small body colliding with mine in the parking lot of a coffee shop after I’d sold her first book. She’d cried into my shoulder for three solid minutes. “She was so touch-starved, always needing to cuddle up. We lived in each other’s pockets for years.”

“And now you miss it.”

The words land with more accuracy than I’m comfortable with. “Yeah. I do. But joining the Wrights won’t give that back to me. She has a pack now.”

Kyle jerks his chin toward the door. “Fish won’t be ready for another hour. You should take another walk over to that cabin. Get a good look at what you’re leaving behind before you head east.”

My throat tightens. “Kyle⁠—”

“Go on.” He waves the knife. “I’ve got scales to scrape.”

I push off the stool and reach for my cane.

At the door, I pause. “Thanks. For everything.”

Kyle continues working. “Just be sure you’re making the right choice for yourself. That’s all.”

The screen door slaps shut behind me, and I step into the cold afternoon air.

The path to the cabin is slick with half-melted frost, the gravel giving way beneath my cane with each step. Late February on Misty Pines means weak sun and a chill that finds every gap in my jacket. The thick evergreens block the wind off the water, leaving the air still and cold and smelling of wet bark.

I reach the porch steps, and the cabin door opens at a touch, the lockset not yet fitted, with just a knob and a latch and a hole where the deadbolt will eventually go.

I push it open with my cane and step inside. Fresh paint and raw pine surround me, and underneath is the faint chalk of new drywall. Afternoon sunlight streams through the windows, warming the chill from outside.