Page 13 of Down Knot Out (Pack Alphas of Misty Pines #3)

Chapter Nine

Chloe

M y fingers tremble on the doorknob as I twist it open, inviting Dominic into my apartment for the first time. The single-bedroom unit feels smaller as he steps over the threshold, his nostrils flaring to take in my pheromones, which saturate the space.

Only now that we’re here do I remember the way Blake had reacted to visiting my only home since graduating from university, and my face heats, feeling like I’ve left something embarrassing on display.

“It’s not much,” I mumble, closing the door behind him.

Dominic scans my living room, taking in the mismatched furniture from consignment shops, the throw pillows and blankets piled on the couch, and the fairy lights casting a soft glow. The same lights that kept me company during late-night writing sessions when sleep wouldn’t come.

“Sorry about the, um—” I gesture at the air between us, knowing my Omega scent must be hitting him like a wave.

In such a confined space, there’s nowhere for it to dissipate. It clings to the curtains, the fabric of my furniture, and even the walls themselves.

He draws in another deep breath, deliberate this time, and his pupils dilate before he blinks it away. He can’t stop the husky purr in his voice, though, when he replies, “It’s okay.”

“I should have warned you.” I twist my fingers in front of me. “Should I open a window? I get a good breeze on the top floor.”

“No, I’ll be fine.” His tongue skims over his bottom lip as he looks around again. “So this is where the magic happens, huh? The birthplace of all those dragons and fairies Holden goes on about?”

The mention of my books sends a flush of pleasure through me. “Something like that.”

His eyes meet mine with banked heat. “Show me your writing space?”

“It’s only fair, since I’ve seen your creative space, right?” I point toward a small alcove tucked into the corner of my apartment, separated from the living room by a beaded curtain I found at a garage sale. “Office is a generous term for it.”

Dominic moves toward it, the beads clicking as he brushes them aside.

My desk sits by the window, natural light spilling across the workspace.

A notebook is open, pen dropped on the page where I left off mid-thought.

Sticky notes cover the wall, each with a fragment of an idea, a line of dialog, or a question for my future self.

Dominic studies the small bookshelf wedged into the space, and his lips twitch. “Do you use all those journals now? Or are you still a hoarder of blank pages?”

“Hey, I use some of them!” I point to the desk. “See? Words are written right there.”

“Yeah, in a spiral notebook.” He leans over to pluck a midnight-blue hardcover journal from the shelf, the embossed sun on the spine flashing when he opens it to reveal blank pages. “But nothing here.”

“It’s too pretty.” I snatch it and put it back on the shelf. “I need to wait for something important to use it for.”

“Uh-huh.” He touches my chair, which is an oversized armchair with worn armrests and a blanket draped over the back. “This looks comfortable.”

My chin juts out. “I need to be comfy to work.”

“Some things never change.” The corner of his mouth twitches. “I’ll order you a better chair for your room back home. Unless you’d like to pack this one up and have it brought to the island?”

“I already have a cozy chair in my bedroom,” I protest. “I move to the reading nook when I need a change of position.”

He hums noncommittally and turns away from my workspace, his attention drawn to the bookshelf in the living room.

It’s one of the few pieces of furniture I splurged on, made with solid wood.

The shelves hold my most precious possessions.

My books, of course, both the ones I wrote and those by authors I love, along with little treasures I collected over the years.

Dominic’s fingers trail over the spines of my books before stopping at a small glass figurine of a dragon with ruby-red wings that’s no bigger than my thumb. With gentle fingers, he lifts it to examine it in the light.

“You kept this.” Surprise and a deeper emotion fills his voice that sets my pulse fluttering.

The figurine was a gift from him in middle school. It had been one of the few times we snuck off to a local craft fair. An artist had been crafting the figurines with a torch and rods of colored glass.

I’d been in love with dragons even back then. When I was allowed a single suitcase to pack my things and leave, it was the only trinket I took with me. I knew everything else would be thrown out, just like my mother and me.

Even with everything that happened afterward with Dominic and my other friends, I’d never had the heart to toss out the little dragon.

My palms feel sweaty, and I wipe them on my sweater. “Of course I kept it.”

He places the figurine back in its place and continues exploring my shelves. In addition to a handful of figurines, it also holds a jar of multi-sided dice I’ve never used and a small wooden box that holds a pair of my mother’s earrings.

I see the moment he realizes how empty the shelves are compared to the collection I once had. How few treasures I’ve gathered since realizing how temporary everything in life can be.

His smile fades, and sadness settles between us. “Chloe…”

I know what he’s thinking. He’s calculating the years, remembering the boxes and boxes of trinkets I used to keep in my room. The crystals lined up on every windowsill, the figurines that covered every surface, the wind chimes and dream catchers hanging from the ceiling. All gone now.

“It’s fine,” I say, the words sharp with defensiveness. “What I have now is just that much more special.”

Dominic’s expression shifts, a muscle in his jaw tightening. I wonder if he’s remembering the day I called him, voice shaking, with nowhere to go and everything I owned stuffed into a single suitcase.

He’d been the first person I thought to call. Not that it mattered. He hadn’t answered, and the next time we spoke, my fall from grace was already the fodder of school gossip.

When he turns to me, the guilt he feels for not doing more is evident on his face. He hadn’t stood beside me. He was my best friend, and he turned his back on me just like the others. And he knows it.

My fingers find my collar, picking at it in a nervous habit I can’t seem to break.

A familiar ache opens in my chest, the one that appears whenever I think about what happened back then, about everything I lost in a single afternoon.

Not just my possessions or my home, but my sense of security.

My Alpha who was supposed to love me unconditionally.

I had needed him so much, needed his arms around me, needed his reassurance that even if everything else changed, we wouldn’t.

A needy whine escapes me, and Dominic takes a half-step forward before he stops himself and clears his throat. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

I shake my head, forcing my hand down to my side. “You didn’t. Not really.” Drawing a deep breath, I try to lighten the mood. “Besides, all of that is in the past. We’re not the same people anymore.”

My stomach growls with a welcome interruption to the heavy silence.

“Food,” I blurt out, latching on to the distraction like a lifeline. “We should order food.”

My voice rises, turning the statement into a question as I step back toward the kitchen, needing a moment to compose myself.

I yank open the drawer with my collection of delivery menus, dog-eared and coffee-stained from use, and return to find Dominic still standing by my bookshelf, his fingers tracing the spine of one of my novels.

“I have options,” I announce, fanning the menus out in my hands. “Chinese, Thai, Italian, American, fusions of all varieties…”

Dominic turns, one eyebrow raised. “You know we can look these up on a delivery app, right? We live in the modern world, Chloe.”

“I like the physical menus. Delivery apps have too many options with all those restaurants from three cities over promising delivery in under an hour.” I shuffle the menus. “This way, I just have local places. Limited choices. It’s easier.”

His expression softens, the teasing replaced by understanding. “Makes sense.”

“It does?” The words slip out before I can stop them.

“Of course it does. You always liked to research before going out, too, so you wouldn’t be overwhelmed by all the options.

” He steps closer, taking the menus from my hands, his fingers brushing mine in the exchange.

“Living on the island, meal delivery is impossible. When I want something besides Holden’s cooking—which is amazing, so don’t ever tell him otherwise—I have to take a boat to get it. ”

Dominic flips through the menus and holds up a white one with red lettering. “How about Chinese? Holden hasn’t mastered that one.”

Relief sweeps through me at not having to be the one to choose. “Sounds good.”

Dominic reads the menu and pauses on an item. “Mu shu pork, right? With extra pancakes? ”

My breath catches. “You remember my order?”

His gray eyes meet mine with a directness that quickens my pulse. “Of course, I remember.” His voice drops lower, a rumble felt more than heard. “I remember you used to roll them up like tiny burritos and eat them in three bites. Never two, never four.”

A laugh bubbles up, surprised and a little embarrassed. “I didn’t count the bites.”

“You absolutely did. You’d frown if you took too big a bite and finished in only two.” He mimics my expression. “Like you’d somehow failed at the proper mu shu experience.”

I shake my head, but of course, he’s right. I’d forgotten that quirk until now, but hearing him describe it brings the memory flooding back with crystal clarity.

“I also want?—”

“Egg rolls with sweet and sour sauce on the side,” he says at the same time I do.

My hand moves to my hip, and I swat him with my fan of menus. “Are you a mind reader now?”

“No.” He pulls out his phone, his thumb hovering over the screen. “I just remember what you like.”