Page 53 of Knot Your Romeo

“My bed to hide for the rest of my life,” she admits with a self-deprecating laugh. “I couldn’t face going back to school looking like this.”

I restart the car, making a decision that probably violates every rule of appropriate behavior. “Then we’re going to fix it.”

“Fix what?”

“Your hair.” I pull back onto the road, turning toward town instead of the estate. “I know someone who can help.”

She touches her choppy locks again, uncertainty in her voice. “It’s okay. I can just wear a hat until it grows out.”

“Emmie,” I say gently, “let me do this for you.”

“You should call me Jolie.”

“Tell me why?”

“I can’t.”

“You won’t.”

“Okay. I won’t.”

As we drive toward town, I notice her studying me from the corner of her eye, clearly working up the courage to ask something.

“You can ask,” I say, keeping my eyes on the road. “Whatever you’re wondering.”

“Did you pay me for that night?”

The question makes me laugh—not at her, but at the absurdity of the misunderstanding. “God, no. Emmie, I’ve never had an Omega keep up with me the way you did, but I knew you’d be completely worn out the next day. The money was for a massage, maybe some room service. That’s why I left the business card for the spa I use.”

She’s quiet for a moment, processing this. “Then why did you never want to see me again?”

My hands tighten on the steering wheel. “I wanted to see you again. But look at you—you’re young and beautiful and have your whole life ahead of you. I’m in my late thirties, set in my ways, carrying more baggage than any person should have to deal with. I don’t deserve someone like you.”

“Have you ever had an Omega long term before?” The question hits deeper than I expected.

“I was in a pack,” I say carefully. “Three Alphas, one Omega. We were happy, or I thought we were.”

“What happened?”

I take a deep breath, surprised by how much I want to tell her. “Car accident. They were picking up Romeo, Remi, and River from their grandparents’ house. I was supposed to go, but I had a business emergency that couldn’t wait.”

“Were Romeo’s parents part of your pack?”

“No, my brother was Romeo’s father, and his pack and mine were traveling together, two cars in convoy, picking up the children and then camping afterward.” The memory still cuts like a knife. “My pack was angry with me for choosing work over family time again. If I’d been there, if I’d insisted we postpone the trip...”

“Beck.” Her voice is soft but firm. “You’re blaming yourself for something that wasn’t your fault.”

“I disagree,” I say, but there’s less conviction in my voice than usual. I turn onto the main street of town, slowing as we approach a small storefront with an elegant script. “Vivian’s Hair Boutique. We’re here.”

Emmie looks at the salon skeptically. “Do they take walk-ins?”

I smile, parking in front. “They will for me.”

Inside, a slender woman with platinum blonde hair styled in a perfect bob squeals when she sees us. “Beckett Silver! It’s been ages!”

“Hello, Viv.” I greet her with a kiss on the cheek. “I need a favor.”

Vivian’s experienced eyes move to Jolie, instantly assessing the damage with professional discretion. “Oh honey, what happened?”