Page 47 of Knot Their Starlet

Men don’t talk about their feelings.

I can see flashes of my father’s face behind my eyelids every time I blink. That vein in his temple. The flush on his cheeks from the rage and alcohol in his system. The spit flying past his lips as he screamed.

I was never man enough for him. Even with him not knowing some of my deepest secrets. I was never fucking good enough for him.

Maybe he was a mind reader, too. Maybe he could see past my attempts at being what he wanted. Maybe that’s why he hated me.

“I—I can’t.” The words feel dragged from my throat like I’m vomiting shards of broken glass.

My vision grows dark around the edges. I hate it. It feels like it represents my father’s darkness seeping into me.

I am the spitting image of him, in looks at least.

“Hey, breathe with me, Eli. Take a breath,” Beck says, his hands pressing into my cheeks.

They’re cold. Is he cold? I wouldn’t be surprised if he were, considering he’s only wearing a pair of jeans and this place is blasting the air conditioning.

“Okay, breathe in. One, two, three, four. Good. Now breathe out. Two, three, four.”

My eyes stay locked on his face as I follow his instructions.

“That’s it. Good job. You’re doing great.”

I let his words flow over me. He’s better than any drug.

He’s right.

We do have to talk about this.

He’s also right that I can’t just be pushing him into dark hallways. What happened that night at the Grammys was a mistake.

If it hadn’t happened, if I had said no, if I’d stopped us at any point before we ended up in that alleyway, then we wouldn’t be in this fucking mess with that omega.

“Do you...” I clear my throat, my voice gruff and grating.

Beck’s eyes go wide. “We don’t have to talk about it now if you don’t want—you were—I don’t want to upset you.”

I shake my head, all the words I want to say swirling in the hurricane that is my brain right now.

“Do you... do you know how hard it is to watch her touch you like that? In front of a camera for the world to see when—when all I want is...”

My jaw works. I don’t know what the fuck to say. Everything I say doesn’t feel right.

“You...” Beck starts, his brows drawn down in confusion. “Want to be in a fake relationship?”

I let out a bark of laughter. It’s so genuine, so uncontrollable it feels ripped from my chest.

Maybe this is why this weird dance between us has gone on for so long. I don’t know how the fuck to explain to him what I’m feeling, and Beck can sometimes be blind to what’s right in front of him.

“No,” I say with a shake of my head.

Footsteps sound from down the hall, and I immediately take three steps back. My eyes rake over Beck. He doesn’t look too disheveled, minus the slight flush to his lips.

I spin on my heel, marching to the edge of the dark alcove we’ve found to peer down the hallway.

Fucking hell.

It’s her. The omega.