Page 4 of Love Me Knot, Part One (Knotty Omegas #1)

DEZ

There’s a restlessness inside me that will not quit. An unsettling that no amount of canvas or paint can fix. Five years since our lives imploded and nothing’s been the same.

Nate spends his nights working at the garage instead of sleeping in his own bed. Connor works so much that it’s a miracle to see him twice a week, even though we own a company together.

And I’m…alone. So fucking alone.

I try not to let the distance bother me, but it all comes to a head when I head into Nate’s room, popcorn in hand. “Hey, do you want to watch a?—”

The sun’s barely set, yet the bed’s made. Shades drawn and barely a hint of his scent in the air. Come to think of it, I can’t remember the last time Nate was home. The last breakfast we had together. The last conversation outside of color schemes for work projects.

Panic swarms like it does when my sister’s on a fire call. How have I not noticed my brother’s been slowly working himself out of our lives? What the hell was I so focused on that I can’t even tell when it started?

My phone’s a lead weight as I drag it out of my sweats and text my brother.

Me

When was the last time Nate came home?

Connor

Uh, last night?

He says it so flippantly that I know he didn’t come home either and suddenly, I’m frustrated at both of us. Him for not being the pack lead we need and me for not calling him out sooner. For not realizing that this pack is so fucking fractured, it may not be fixable.

Me

Come home tonight. Pack meeting.

Connor

Yes, sir.

Thanks to the late hour and the anxiety pushing my foot down, the drive to the garage is quick.

After a quick hello to the guards so they know I’m here, I head inside to heavy bass blares through the speakers, echoing off concrete.

My breath comes easier when I find Nate bent over, head hidden behind the hood of a rusted-out shell. Calling it a car would be a gross overstatement, but I know by the time he’s done, it’ll be beautiful. Every client who comes our way is a testament to his love for restoration.

Knowing he hasn’t heard me, I pull the aux cord from the stereo, letting it dangle from my hand. He doesn’t acknowledge me, but that’s fine. Now that I know he’s okay, I can be patient.

Spending most of my time in the paint shack on the back of the building means I haven’t spent a lot of time in the garage recently.

Nate runs a tight ship, so everything’s put away, cars suspended on locked lifts so no one can get to them.

Every surface gleams, the air smelling faintly of industrial cleaner and oil.

Morgan Restorations is Nate’s dream, one that Connor and I gave him when everything else went to shit. It became his reason for living, but I never thought it would be the only one.

“When did we get this one?” My question echoes in the silence as he finishes writing in the little notebook he always carries. Finally, he looks at me, straightening to his full height.

Nate Morgan is a big motherfucker, naturally built like a defenseman but with little athletic ability to be found.

“Two days ago. Moore dropped it off. Twenty-first birthday gift for his kid.”

Shit. AJ Moore Sr. is a legend in the car space. That he came to us at all says just how far we’ve come since we started the business way too young. If this goes well, it could be revolutionary for our career.

“No wonder you haven’t been home.”

“I stopped by to shower.” Nate’s defense is weak, and we both know it.

“Funny, I thought people needed sleep to function.”

His glare is cool and disinterested. Shadowed pale brown irises live above bags deep with remembered sorrow. So unlike the boy I grew up with that my chest hurts.

I can’t imagine waking up to my entire world gone, the life I had in pieces around me. Nate did and every day, he has to live with that, for better or worse.

“You look like shit, brother.”

Nate scrubs a hand over his jaw, avoiding my gaze. “Rough few nights.”

Which means he hasn’t slept at all. Medicine doesn’t help and he won’t try therapy.

Says he can’t relive that. Can’t voice how badly he wishes he died with them.

The only thing that helps is this half-in, half-out existence.

Watching the world spin but never joining.

He stopped leaning on us when he needed us most and instead of calling him on it, Connor and I let him drift.

The feeling of restlessness comes again, but this time, I don’t shut it down. Don’t let myself think about the consequences. I just offer the words I’ve been holding in for far too long.

“I want to look for an omega.”

It took time, a lot of conversations with Mama and weekly therapy sessions, but I’m finally at a place where I can admit I’m ready to try again. Shelby was a disaster, but that doesn’t mean every person we meet is going to be like that.

My whole life, I’ve dreamed of sharing my partner with my brothers. Finding someone who completes us in a way no one else has. I want them to be our center. Our heart.

I refuse to believe this is our fate.

We’re lost, but we don’t have to stay that way. Not if we find a North Star to guide us.

One silent heartbeat, then another before Nate puts down the notebook and leans against the car. “I’m listening.”

“We’re dysfunctional.” I rush on, knowing this is my one shot. “I think we should offer our pack as a heat relief option.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Think about it, Nate. This would take the pressure off meeting omegas and offer a chance to find someone who works for all three of us. Someone to sit in silence with you, to draw with me, to challenge Connor.”

My heart races when there’s a flicker of something in him. It looks a hell of a lot like life. Like hope.

“You think we’ll find someone like that?” he asks, gaze on the shelves at my side as if he can’t handle looking me in the eye. Can’t handle it if I say no.

“Who knows, but I think we can admit staying as we are isn’t working now.”

That little notebook taps along the edge of the car as he mulls it over. “I’m not saying yes, but I want to know how it works. “

Nate listens as I tell him all about registering at a heat clinic, still distant but at least entertaining the idea. When I’m done, he lobs a grenade into my plan. “What about Connor?”

That’s the real problem. Since things went south, Connor’s been very anti-relationship, anti-love, anti-sex. He’s happiest getting himself off and not having to deal with other people. That goes double for omegas.

He went almost two years barely touching Nate and me. It took me dragging him to a therapist for Connor to even address the issues and while he used being “healed” to stop going, he’s still more distant than I’d like.

“I figured we could start small. Just signing up would be huge.” Even if that’s all that comes, just knowing that they’re willing to move forward is enough for now.

Nate stares at the ground as he debates. “I’ll back you on this, but I’m not sure about heat helping. I’m not interested in fucking around.”

“That’s fine,” I assure him, already knowing that would be his answer. I just need a majority for Connor to even consider it.

“You think he’ll agree?”

I can almost guarantee he won’t, but that won’t stop me. “Doesn’t matter. We need this.”

I know it and I think my brothers do too.

“When do you want to talk to him about this?”

Giving Nate time to overthink will be our downfall and I refuse to come this far and fail. Not when we’re so close to change.

“You done here?”

He stares at the car then chuckles; the sound untwisting something deep in my chest. “Yeah, why not.”

Excitement floods my system. I feel like I could bench press a car and run ten miles at the same time.

I tailgate him the entire way home. When we arrive, I throw an arm over his shoulder, pulling him with me so he can’t run away the second we get out.

To my shock, he leans in, embracing me easily.

We haven’t even started, and already, things are changing for the better.

Connor’s at the dining table, phone to his ear.

“I understand that, AJ, but there’s nothing I can do about it right now.

I’m home for the night. Sure, I’ll send that email before I go to bed.

” After another minute of placating, he hangs up and tosses the phone on the table.

“The younger Moore is an absolute pain in the ass. He just asked if I could send him all our paint samples because he isn’t sure we picked the right shade of blue. ”

Trepidation worms through me at Connor’s stressed scent. Is this the right time? Maybe I should wait.

No.

Doing well with Moore is important, but money isn’t everything. Happiness is. Fulfillment is. Love is.

The longer we let things go on, the worse it’ll be and it’s already going to be difficult to get his agreement.

I pull out a chair and point Nate toward one. The four-top has a single seat left open, a glaring reminder of the place I’m trying to fill. “Deal with whatever it is tomorrow. Pack meeting.”

Folded hands in front of him, Connor grimaces when his phone buzzes in rapid succession. Without looking at the screen, he turns it off, focus on us. “Did I put too much detergent in the laundry again? If so, I’m sorry. I’ll measure better next time.”

Nate nudges my foot in support.

“You did, but that’s not why we’re here.”

Please let this work.

Taking a deep breath, I come right out with it. “I think we should sign up as a heat relief pack.”

Conor leans back, hands on the table like he’s ready to push off and run. Pretty sure he would’ve been less shocked if I’d hit him with a bat.

“Just listen,” I beg. “A lot of the omegas at heat clinics are single but haven’t found the right pack. We could help them and see if we’re compatible at the same time.”

Connor’s brow raises as he looks between us. “You want to stud us out?”