Page 12 of Knotted By my Pack (North Coast Omegaverse #3)

CORA

Noah’s truck pulls up in front of the bakery, the engine rumbling to a stop as I gather myself in the dim light.

I let out a slow breath before swinging open the door and walking down the steps to meet him. He’s already out of the truck when I reach him, his brows knitted in concern.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice softer than usual. His eyes sweep over me, checking for any visible signs of distress.

I nod quickly, not trusting myself to speak. His concern, though genuine, only makes the guilt inside me grow sharper.

“Are you sure?” He sounds more insistent now, like he doesn’t believe me.

I snap. “I’m fine, Noah. Just drop it, okay?”

The words come out sharper than I intended. He looks a little taken aback, his hand hovering near my arm as if he’s unsure whether to reach for me.

I can’t stand it. I immediately feel the heat of shame rising in my chest. We climb into his car.

“I’m sorry,” I mutter quickly, guilt eating at me. “I didn’t mean to snap. A lot happened today. And my head hurts so bad, so I couldn’t drive… And… it’s been a long day. “

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, just looks at me like he’s weighing whether to push me further. The uncomfortable silence hangs between us.

Finally, he lets out a long breath, nods, and takes my hand. His touch is warm, reassuring. “What happened?”

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.”

His words echo in my head as I look at him, the intensity in his eyes almost too much.

“You’d drive back if I called?”

“Cora, I would break every single traffic rule if you wanted me here. You know that.”

Fuck! I can’t help myself. The urge to kiss him rises up like a wave, and I have to fight it back, pushing the impulse down, locking it away.

His gaze drops to my lips, then back to my eyes, and for a moment, I think he’s going to do something about it.

But then he pulls away, leaving me aching for something I can’t quite name.

He’s quiet again, until we reach my driveway.

“Let me get you inside,” he says, his voice rougher than before. “It’s cold out here.”

I nod, reluctant to let go of his hand, but I do, allowing him to open the door for me. But as I step out, something inside me twists.

“Can you come in for coffee?” I ask, the words tasting like desperation even though I don’t know why.

He hesitates, glancing at the time before shaking his head. “It’s late. I’ve got to pack.”

“Okay,” I say, though it feels like a part of me is crumbling. I don’t want him to go. Not yet. Not when the space between us feels like it’s filled with something more than just friendship.

“Cora?”

I want to look up, but I cannot manage it. I simply whisper, “Yeah?”

“Come here.”

Then he pulls me into a hug, his arms wrapping around me like he’s anchoring me to something solid.

His scent surrounds me, the familiar musk of wood and leather, and I bury my face in his chest, breathing him in.

He holds me for longer than I expect, and I don’t want it to end. When he finally pulls away, he brushes my cheek, his touch so gentle that it makes my chest ache in a way I can’t explain.

“I’ll be back,” he says again, with that finality that tells me I have to let him go.

I watch as he walks back to his truck, the familiar sound of his boots crunching on the gravel filling the silence.

He climbs into the cab, and before he drives off, he looks at me one last time.

I watch him drive away, the sadness creeping in, and I can’t stop the tears that threaten to spill.

It’s just a few days, I remind myself. Just a few days. But somehow, that doesn’t make it feel any easier.