Page 47 of Knot Your Pucking Secret

“Sasha,” Lennon murmurs, reaching out a hand and placing it gently on my knee. The touch sends lightning bolts through me, and I stare at the contact. I had forgotten how nice her touch felt. The way it could make everything not feel as heavy. How I had denied myself to think into it, when I should have allowed myself the chance of happiness.

She is a miracle.

“My own anger only seemed to manifest from there. I hated Patrick. For manipulating the play I’d watched back, over and over and over again. Noticing that the entire game, he had been aggravating the Alpha. Pushing him into my father, causing somany errors. It was as if he wanted a fight. For my father, who was one of the best, at the time, to bite. And he didn’t. He didn’t bite. Instead, he played hockey. For his family. For the love he had for the sport. Because that was his job. Patrick…he had a plan. I now know that it was to take him out. Jealousy maybe. Who knows? Afterwards, my father reminded me of his loss. He beat me, the name of the man responsible on his lips as he did it. When I found my mother, hanging from the ceiling. I knew she had left me on purpose. She couldn’t handle the abuse anymore. My father blamed Patrick for that too. And so did I.”

Lennon is quiet for a few moments, and I look up, noticing the tears streaming down her cheeks. Pain is written across her face and I am a little shocked by them. My brows furrow.

“I am so fucking sorry, Sasha. For not hearing you out the night I left. You tried to tell me then, but I didn’t listen…” More silence. “No child deserves to go through that.”

I nod. That is the one thing I know and understand now. I didn’t deserve what was handed down to me. But I made the choices myself. I could have stopped. Let it go. But I didn’t.

“I couldn’t stop myself from seeking retribution after that. I had originally planned to find it through Patrick but…”

I don’t need to say anything else. She already knows judging by the look of understanding on her face. I shake my head, my forehead crinkling as tears begin to water my eyes.

“I don’t know why I did the things I did to you. I couldn’t stop. I didn’t know how to stop.”

The first tear drops down my cheek, and I wipe it away. Angry at myself for the emotions that sit beneath the surface.

“You’re my fucking scent match. I did the most unspeakable things to you, even when I knew I shouldn’t have. I broke you in some fucked up attempt to make myself feel better.”

I drop to my knees before her, taking her hands in mine. I bring them to my lips, pressing the gentlest of kisses against her knuckles.

“I am so fucking sorry, Lennon. I’m so sorry for everything I did. I know nothing that I do or say will ever make up for those moments.”

“Sash—” Lennon begins, an edge of hesitation in her tone. I am already nodding my head, pushing to my feet in understanding. Of course. What else did I expect? She owes me nothing. I turn my back, unable to look at her, knowing the rejection will soon follow. I don’t think I can handle it another time. Once was enough.

“No, Lennon. It's okay. I understand. I will just—” I freeze in place as I spot the corner of a photo frame. There is a little girl. Her pigtails are uneven. Her toothy grin is wide, bright enough to illuminate the photograph. Standing right beside her is a little boy. His smile is just as bright, even though the corner of his lip is busted. He looks happy. Not yet torn apart by the suffering that was coming his way. I take quiet, cautious steps toward the frame, picking it up in gentle hands, like it will break or fade if I’m not careful.

I turn back to face Lennon, standing only a few steps behind me now.

“Where did you get this?”

“I–I uh…”

“Solnechnny svet.”

Her eyes go wide. Her mouth dropping open. Her body goes completely still.

Gods, how didn’t I see it? I had thought I had my sunshine’s face etched into my memory. A memory I’d almost forgotten like many others from my childhood. The memory of the girl who was my first friend. The one who said funny things. Me, not understanding any of it. The little girl who saved me in the daysthat were my darkest. My solnechnny svet is my scent match.My Omega.

I drop to my knees, my body weak from the shock of it all as everything comes to a head.

“It’s you?” Lennon whispers. A sob bursts past her lips as she too drops to the floor in front of me. She grips my face in her hands, her touch so gentle it shatters something inside of my chest. I lift my hands up to hers, needing to hold onto something. I might just break if I don’t.

She was my salvation.

My escape from the world following my father’s abuse. I was confused, couldn’t speak a proper word of English. But Lennon was so patient with me. She didn’t push away my friendship, didn’t make me feel alone. She was my sunshine. A smiling face that brightened my world. I swore I’d marry her, and I chuckle through my emotions because I’m not admitting that part out loud. I didn’t see her again after we moved across the city. To a house that my mother could afford after father had spent it all on alcohol, drugs and gambling. I had tried to find the park again, but after the first time, I got lost. I was taken home by the police and the beating that had followed… I wasn’t game enough to try again.

But I didn’t need to. Because she has always been here. All roads were always going to lead back to my solnechnny svet.And the things I did to her!

“You saved me,” I whisper, squeezing her hands tighter. “You saved me in the days I lost hope.”

“I waited for you for months,” she admits. “I never forgot about my first best friend.”

She moves in closer, our foreheads resting against each other, needing to breathe her in. I go to pull back, but she grips me impossibly tight. Jasmine and moonlit roses explode from her, the scent threatening to knock me back.

“Alpha,” she moans, her nails digging into my hands, like I will somehow keep her tethered to the moment. I pull her away from me, needing to look into her eyes. I need to confirm what I already know. Her eyes are dazed and half glazed over, and sweat is pouring down her forehead now. Her face burns to the touch.