Page 29 of Knot Her Beta

Chapter Eight

Grady

“Fish!” Kyle’s voice booms through the cabin door before it opens.

The screen strikes the siding, and he stomps into the house, arms wrapped around a foam cooler that carries the briny, sweet-fish scent of a fresh catch.

I freeze with a pair of socks balled in my fist, half-folded, the rest of my clothes laid out in neat rows on the couch in front of me.

Kyle sets the cooler on the kitchen counter with a heavy thud. Water sloshes over the lip, dripping onto the linoleum. “I got lucky with three rockfish and two ling cod.”

His grin spreads beneath his close-cropped beard, satisfaction radiating from him. “We’re eating like kings tonight.”

“I didn’t expect you back so early.” I stuff the socks into the side pocket of my suitcase and smooth the collar of a folded shirt.

Kyle cracks the cooler lid, and a stronger wave of fish and brine rolls out. “Jared’s covering the evening water taxi runs.”

My fingers pause on the zipper of the suitcase. “He’s running the taxi alone again?”

“Yep. Full runs. First week since everything hit the fan.” Kyle fishes a knife from the drawer and sets it on the counter with a clack. “I’d say he’s back in business full time now.”

Happiness for my friend fills me with warmth. Jared’s social media nightmare last year cost him the water taxi gig for months. Some tourist’s online posts had gone viral, painting him as a predator.

The video went viral before anyone could fact-check it. Jared had been trying to keep the woman from falling into the water, but the angle turned a rescue into an attack.

Kyle pulls the first fish from the cooler, a heavy rockfish with mottled brown skin and a spine that could put out an eye. He sets it on the cutting board with the confidence of a man who’s done this a thousand times.

His hand stills when he turns and finally registers my suitcase. “You’re packing?”

I zip the side pocket. “My flight is on Friday. Figured I’d start getting things together now.”

His knife pauses above the fish. “You sure about this?”

“I’ve been on your couch for almost a year, Kyle. You’ve been patient well past the point of sanity.”

“I like the company.” He slices the belly of the rockfish in one clean motion. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you want.”

“Thanks, but it’s time.”

Kyle scrapes the guts into a plastic bag. “Emily’s been dropping by a lot.”

The observation hangs between us as I fold another shirt, slower this time. “She checks in.”

“She brings you food and seeks out your company.” Kyle’s eyes flick to mine. “There’s a difference.”

Heat crawls up my neck as I set the shirt down and move to the kitchen, settling onto one of the two mismatched stools at the counter. My knee protests, and I stretch the leg out until the ache subsides.

I watch Kyle work the fillet from the spine with practiced ease. “Do you ever feel left out? Being on the outskirts of the Wrights’ whole thing?”

“I’ve got an open invitation.” He shrugs. “They’ve asked. More than once.”

My eyebrows lift. “You turned down an official spot in the Wright Pack?”

“Yep.”

“With their resources? Their backing?” I shake my head. “That’s... generous of them.”

“More than generous. Not a lot of millionaire packs are offering to take on new members.” Kyle wipes his knife on a rag. “But joining a pack means giving up some of the quiet. I like my quiet.”