Page 36 of Knot Their Starlet

“I’m just asking a question. An important one.”

“You’re asking it like a fucking asshole,” I huff.

“It’s fine, Beck, I can chew him out myself,” Andi says from the other end of the line.

There’s a fire in her voice that’s been missing in the call so far. I much prefer her fiery spirit to the dissociative depression I was picking up on earlier.

“Listen here, you meathead. I’m only going to say this once, so you better get it through your thick skull. You seem really consumed with this idea that I’m going to go back to him or some shit. I’m not. But we dated for almost five years, so he had a key to my apartment.”

Eli opens his mouth to respond, but Andi cuts him off without even seeing him. Maybe she’s the mind reader out of the two of us.

“And before you ask, yes, I got the key back.”

If I weren’t pressed against Eli’s side, I might have missed the way his shoulders relax ever so slightly.

“Good,” he says.

I definitely don’t miss the note of relief obvious in his tone. I don’t think Andi does, either.

“You’re not gonna chew me out again?” she huffs.

“No.” Eli’s jaw works as he runs a hand through his close-cropped hair. “Good to hear you’re not planning on going back.”

“Well, it’s totally not like I’ve mentioned it in every goddamn conversation we’ve had.” I can practically hear her eyes rolling through the phone.

“People say a ton of shit, but it doesn’t mean they mean it,” Eli mutters under his breath, his eyes locked on the city skyline outside my floor to ceiling windows. His words were less to Andi and more reminiscent of the ghosts that haunt him.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Who are you to tell me that my words don’t mean shit?”

The venom laced in Andi’s words seems to snap Eli back into reality. His brows draw down in concern, and he glances up at me with a wide-eyed sort of panic.

“Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean you.”

“Then who the fuck did you mean?” Andi snarls, obviously not buying it.

“My mother,” Eli murmurs.

Oh shit.

Eli never talks about the reason he tended to sleep over at my place more nights than not when we were growing up. Let alone to someone he’s only met a few days ago, who he’s only argued with until now.

“Oh,” Andi says, deflating instantly.

“So what is happening to the guy?” I ask, trying to change the subject.

“Well, um, he’s going to rehab. Which is good. He needs it.”

She takes a breath, seeming to sense the necessity of my change in subject. Maybe it’s our omega sixth sense working together over the phone.

“It was just a tough conversation since it was basically a breakup . We—we were together a long time. I think—and don’t give me shit for this, Eli—I think there’s a part of me that hates what he fucked up. He was kinda the only person who gave a shit about me.”

Eli’s lips quirk up ever so slightly at her preemptive reprimand. But as we share a glance with each other, there’s a profound sadness for the poor omega on the other end of the line that’s reflected back at me.

“I’m sorry I’m rambling. God, this call is a lot more than I thought it would be. I probably should’ve just texted you⁠—”

“You’ve got nothing to apologize for, Starlight,” I say, the nickname slipping out before I can catch it and shove it back down my throat.

“Starlight?” she says, her laughter ringing like bells through the tinny speakers of my phone. “You throwing out nicknames now?”