Page 147 of Knot Their Starlet

“Is that... someone pinging your phone’s location?” Everett asks, his brows drawing down in concern.

“That’s my mom.” She winces, scrambling towards the living room.

I’m quick to follow ‌her.

She digs her phone out of her purse she had at the club last night, grimacing as she silences the noise.

“Everything okay?” I ask softly, peering over her shoulder.

She’s practically vibrating with anxiety so strong it borders on terror.

“Y—yeah, just fine,” she says, her knuckles white around her phone. “I just… had it on do not disturb mode.”

I manage to snag a peek of her screen before she unlocks it.

Thirty-two missed calls from her mom.

Thirty-two?

That’s insane.

Someone must have died.

“I need to take this,” she says, flashing the rest of us a wobbly, apologetic smile.

“You can take it in my bedroom, if you need privacy,” Leo says, his brows drawn down in concern.

Andi immediately spins on her heel, rushing down the hall and not sparing any of us a backward glance.

The bitter aftertaste of her chamomile perfume permeates ‌the air, lingering at the back of my throat.

Something awfully close to guilt gnaws at me.

Even in my attempts to help Andi, to show her that she is important enough to me that I want her to have a voice too, I completely forgot that it’s not that simple for her.

“Can we postpone that call?” I ask, my brows drawing down in concern.

“Of course,” Everett nods, standing from his barstool.

Andi deserves her privacy, but the four of us are nosy. And I’m sure we’re all grappling with the same feeling that something is wrong here.

CHAPTER 31

Andi

Idrop my purse to the floor, frantically scrolling through the plethora of notifications, texts and voicemails alike, to try to prepare myself for what I’m walking into.

“Hi Mom, I’m so sorry for missing these. I didn’t have my phone⁠—”

“I don’t believe a single filthy word out of your little mouth,” my mom hisses.

There’s an intensity to her voice that instantly makes me feel like a child, kneeling on the cold concrete of our garage while she smashes things, screaming about how ungrateful I am for the life she’s provided me.

Her screaming, past and present, melds into one in my mind.

I perch myself on the edge of Leo’s bed, facing out the windows. My shoulders immediately curl in on themselves as I try to make myself small.

Who am I kidding?