Page 16 of Knot So Social

“I don’t mind being teased about my relationship,” I say, loading equipment into my bags. “But make sure you never tease girls that way.”

The boys jeer at my comment, but their bright eyes tell a different story.

“Yeah. Girls are much more loyal and emotional than you know.” I warn. “You give them a hard time or joke about their feelings, you could ruin something good. Especially with omegas.”

Hudson scoffs. “What’s the point if they can’t take a bit of joking around?”

“Nah,” another lad says. “My sisters are like that. Push them too far and it’s the end of the world.”

I hoist my bag over my shoulder and click my fingers. “See? You know what I’m talking about.”

One the younger boys sitting in the corner looks up from his book. “But how do you know who they are? Not all omegas present at our age.”

“Well, then the answer’s simple, isn’t it?” I walk toward the door, pausing only to smile at the lads. “If you don’t know which girls are omegas, what’s the right thing to do?”

“Treat them all well,” Hudson supplies, rocking his chair back on two legs.

“Exactly.” With a wave, I slip out through the door, calling, “See you all next week.”

I load my things in the van and climb in with a smile on my face. There’s no way of knowing if I’m doing any actual good, but at least I can pass on some of the handy skills my dad taught me and my brother.

Takes me back to the days we spent our afternoons in dad’s workshop, asking questions faster than he could answer. Back then, Jeremy and I were inseparable.

Now even if we speak, it’s awkward.

I pull into the driveway of my modern suburban property and sit for a few long moments, staring at the front door. Tracey and I bought the four-bedroom house together right after I proposed last year. It was a big deal for me, falling in love again and proposing, so I'm determined not to screw anything up.

But ever since we purchased the house, Tracey’s been . . . uptight.

We planted gardens out the front and decorated together, although she knows the most about house styling, thanks to her career as a real estate agent. Hell, we even bought a puppy to be ‘our’ dog. Things were blissful.

But then something shifted.

These days, I never quite know what I’m walking into when I go inside; sometimes she jumps my bones and other times she scolds me for anything and everything.

And I can never seem to figure out what triggers these opposite reactions.

Is it the stress of a mortgage? More likely it’s just pre-wedding jitters, although she dropped the hint to propose first by leaving wedding magazines where I’d find them.

Or, there was that one time a few months ago when I alpha’d up on her. She was so scared, I instantly realized I’d made a big mistake. I can’t remember much from the fight, except she asked if I’d been serious about the proposal, or if our relationship was a joke to me. That hurt.

No, I can’t afford to mess up, not when I love her so much. We made up from that fight right away, and she admitted she was stressed that day, so we’ve moved on.

Regardless of what’s bothering her, the longer I sit out here, the more of a scolding I’ll get.

I climb out of the van and walk past the ornamental red grasses lined along the path to the front door. Peeling my boots off inside, I remember to stack them neatly on the shoe rack. The white dust, gathered from crawling through ceilings all day, falls off and I brush the pile under the rack with my sock-clad foot.

“Tracey? I’m home.”

“Finally! Thank fuck!” She breezes through an arched doorway, a tight black dress hugging every curve. “You really like to keep me waiting, don’t you? We’re going out, so hurry up and shower.”

I swallow a sigh. I’ve been on the road since 5am and my feet ache. “Do I need to be wherever it is we’re going?”

She arches one groomed eyebrow, and the atmosphere grows ten degrees colder. “Well, I don’t know, Joel. Do you need to be there? Are we a team, or roommates? Harrison and Belinda will be there, showing off their engagement ring. Pete, Beau, and Rowan will be there, all handsy as usual. So, you tell me if I’m going there as a single woman, or as your fiancé?”

“Sorry, babe,” I murmur. “I didn’t know it was important to you.”

I turn for the bathroom.