Page 34 of Knotted By my Pack

I swallow, feeling a lump in my throat. I want to tell him everything about the fight, the tension, the humiliation, but I’m not sure how to say it.

I don’t want him to know how much it’s bothering me. Not yet, not when I can’t even make sense of my own emotions.

“Cora,” he says simply, “you can tell me anything.”

I clear my throat. “Elias and Julian. They... got into a fight.”

Noah’s grip tightens on my hand. “A fight? What do you mean? Did they hurt each other?”

I nod, my eyes burning. “Yes. I’ve never seen anything like it. I don’t even know what it was about. Elias ran off after. I went to Julian’s office to ask if he was okay. I tried to be nice to him, but he—” I pause, my words choking off for a second. “He asked me to leave.” My voice cracks, betraying me, but I push through it. “I tried to be nice to that asshole. I really did, Noah. I didn’t want to make things worse. But he... he just... makes it so fucking impossible. And I—I lost my temper.”

Noah stays quiet after that, the truck’s engine humming beneath us, the road stretching out into the endless night. I stare out the window, watching the streetlights blur by, focusing on nothing and everything all at once.

Finally, I break the silence, my voice small. “I’m sorry for snapping at you. It’s not you, it’s just... Julian just drives me crazy.”

Noah turns his head slightly, his profile illuminated by the soft glow of the dashboard lights. “I know,” he says quietly, his voice steady and comforting.

I let out a breath of relief at his understanding, but then the guilt creeps back in. He always knows. He’s always been the one who listens, the one who doesn’t judge me for all my messiness, my broken pieces.

And yet, I can’t shake this feeling that maybe... maybe I need more from him than I’m willing to admit.

“Thanks,” I say, finally breaking the silence again. “For taking me dancing last night. And for letting me crash at your place.”

Noah’s throat moves as he swallows, and when he looks at me, his eyes are less guarded, less hurt. There’s something soft about the way he looks at me.

“It was fun,” he says after a moment, his smile small but genuine. “We should do it again sometime.”

A small laugh escapes me. “Yeah, we should. It was... nice.” I hesitate before adding, “You know, we should go more often.”

His eyes flicker toward me, and then he lets out a low chuckle. “Do you even remember last night?”

I freeze, my mind flashing to the hazy moments from the night before—dancing close, laughter, too many strong cocktails. “Nope,” I reply with a grin. “I remember the dancing. And then coming home. That’s about it.”

He raises an eyebrow, his smirk teasing. “Do you remember taking off your shoes and me carrying you to the car?”

I laugh, the sound escaping me before I can stop it. “Nope. But those cocktails were strong,” I admit, shaking my head. “I don’t know how you managed to get me to the truck without me face-planting.”

“Yeah, well,” he chuckles, “I was looking out for you.”

I glance over at him, watching the way his smile lingers, how his eyes soften when he looks at me. It’s almost like there’s something unsaid between us, something waiting to be acknowledged, but neither of us says it out loud.

He glances back at me, his expression turning serious. “When I come back, we can go again.”

“Come back?” I feel something tight in my chest, a sudden, unexplainable panic. “You’re leaving?”

He slows the truck, pulling over to the side of the road. The sudden stop jolts me, and I turn to him, my chest tightening with an unexpected wave of anxiety.

“I have a job,” he says, his voice quieter now. “I’ve got to build cabinets in the next town over. It’ll take about three days.”

I blink, trying to process the news. My throat feels dry, but I manage to whisper, “Okay.”

He takes a deep breath, his hand reaching for mine. “We’ll talk when I return. I’ll be back before you know it.”

I nod, trying to ignore the strange ache that’s growing in my chest. He’s only going to be gone for a few days. It’s not a big deal. But somehow, it feels like it is.

“You’re my best friend,” I say quietly, the words slipping out before I can stop them. “I’m just used to having you around.”

“I’ll be back,” he says, and the tenderness in his voice makes my chest tighten. He leans over, kissing my palm lightly, and I feel a jolt of warmth spreading through me. “Call me if you need anything, okay? It’s a three-hour drive back, but I’ll come back as soon as you need me.”