Knot a Good Idea (Bittersweet Omegas #4)

Chapter 2

2

APRIL

“You need to get out more,” my therapist says. “And it’s not just a ‘you should.’ It’s turned into a ‘you need to,’ April.”

I huff as I sit on the sofa across from Sandy, knowing she’s right but not wanting to admit it. I am grateful for her honesty, though—she’s possibly the most genuine person in my life right now. She’s an older Omega with greying hair, an olive complexion, and dark brown knowing eyes.

Sandy doesn’t take bullshit from me. Even from our first session, she was upfront about the work we would be doing.

Still, that doesn’t mean I have to be thrilled that she’s telling me what I need to hear.

“I do go out,” I reply stubbornly.

“ Beyond work,” Sandy insists, crossing one leg over the other in her swivel chair. “Even if it’s just going out with Skylar. It doesn’t have to be anywhere triggering—even to the bookstore would be beneficial. We all need human interaction.”

It’s not that Sandy’s wrong—I just don’t want to listen to her.

“We’ve worked on what to do when the attacks happen,” she continues. “ I know you know what to do and what tools to use. I think it’s time you put them to use.”

I scowl and shift on the sofa. “It’s not just about the attacks,” I mutter.

“Then what is it about?”

Skylar and I both experienced panic attacks after we were rescued, but she still manages to go out. She handles her triggers well and her pack helps her when they occur.

But with me…

“They’re all still treating me like I’m fragile. If we went to just the bookstore, Skylar would check in with me every five minutes to make sure I’m okay. I’m better off just not going.”

Sandy is quiet for a moment, tapping her pen thoughtfully against her notebook. “And you’ve tried talking to her about this, right?”

“Kind of. I mean, how do you tell someone to stop caring about you? Skylar’s a natural worrier. She likes to panic over nothing.”

“Your wellbeing isn’t nothing , I would say.” Sandy looks at me pointedly. “But I agree, it can be difficult when our loved ones insist on treating us differently after traumatic events.”

I scoff. “No shit.”

“Hmm.”

Sandy stays silent, allowing me to process my thoughts.

“Maybe if…” I swallow, dreading the idea as it comes to mind. “Maybe if I met new people, it would be different.”

“How so?”

“I don’t know. Every customer at the café knows who I am and what happened. I think I need to encounter people that don’t know my story and don’t have these preconceived notions of me.”

Oh. I figured it out.

“I was thinking the same thing,” Sandy says.

Dread fills my gut. “But they might still recognize me,” I mutter. “Ever since Skylar’s press conference about me.”

Back when I went missing, Skylar’s pack was able to pull strings and allow her to attend a press conference about the missing Omegas and trafficking ring. She spoke in front of news reporters, and her speech went viral.

Everyone knew the name April Waters after that.

It’s what made a good Samaritan call in an anonymous tip and led to my rescue.

I will forever be grateful to my best friend and her pack—they are the reasons I’m here today.

But a tiny, awful part of me resents the other outcomes of Skylar’s bravery.

Everyone in town recognizes me as the girl who went missing.

The Omega with a horrible backstory.

I hate the recognition that dawns on a customer’s face when they realize who I am.

How can I ever move past what happened if I’m reminded of it every time I have a social interaction?

“Even if they do recognize you,” Sandy says, interrupting my train of thought, “you are able to control the narrative about your life. You know your truth, they don’t. Own it.”

I shake my head. “It’s not as easy as you make it sound.”

“I’m aware. But you can do it. It’s your story, not theirs.”

“There’s something else that’s happening to me,” I add. “I keep experiencing anger like I never have before. Even at Skylar and my mom. I didn’t use to be like this. But it just bubbles up, out of nowhere, and I have to walk away before I say or do something I’ll regret. I hate it.”

My temper is always followed by shame.

“And what do you think causes it?” Sandy already knows, I’m sure, but she wants me to figure it out.

“I’m angry at them, but also at myself.”

“Why at yourself?”

Traitorous tears fill my eyes, and I motion at my face. “Things like this. I used to be so careful with my emotions. I could compartmentalize easily; I could handle shit. Now I’m all over the place, over-emotional, and seconds from falling apart. I used to handle everyone else’s crises, now I’m constantly in one.” My voice breaks. “I don’t like it at all. I hate it. This isn’t me.”

Sandy’s eyes soften, not with pity, but with understanding. “There are two things I want you to work on this week.”

I sniffle. “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“Giving yourself patience and meeting new people.”

I huff. “I can try,” I mumble.

“Good. Baby steps, April. Grant yourself grace.”

I bite my lip.

I’m not sure if that’s possible.

I wouldn’t even know where to begin.

Apparently, granting myself grace isn’t my strong suit.

Especially when I’m clenching my teeth as a customer recognizes me, sympathy crossing their features.

“I’m so sorry for what happened to you,” the woman says. “I can’t believe you went through all of that. How are you feeling now?”

I stand behind the counter as she swipes her credit card. “Better,” I reply. “Thank you.”

“I just…” she shakes her head. “If it were my daughter, I don’t know how I could?—”

“We’ll have that latte right up,” I say quickly, and the customer frowns. Guilt hits me, but I turn from the counter and begin to steam her oat milk.

I just… can’t . It’s too much.

Devyn’s light voice pipes up behind me, assisting another customer, and the guilt doubles.

I still haven’t figured out a way to keep her on payroll and imagining the look on her face when we let her go makes my chest ache.

I haven’t told Skylar yet, either. I’m not ready for her reaction.

Before I went missing, Skylar barely tolerated Devyn. But when I was gone, they became friends, and Skylar and I have become a sort of mentor for the younger Omega. She thrives here; she loves to bake and learn new recipes, and she charms every customer she encounters.

I’m so lost in thought that the oat milk overflows and burns the top of my hand. I slam the steel pitcher down and switch the steamer off before grabbing a wet rag and pressing it to my hand.

Damn it .

I never used to be this clumsy, either.

“April, are you okay?” Devyn asks.

I nod and storm off to the stockroom, my hand screaming in pain. I squint my eyes shut, slow my breathing, and lean against the shelf of almond flour.

Box after box of packaged macarons sit on the desk near the shelves packed with seasonal flavors.

It’s almost the holiday season, and the café is known for its macarons.

A year ago, I was the one brainstorming new and innovative flavors with Skylar for the holidays.

I haven’t thought of one flavor this year.

The boxes are full of pumpkin, cranberry, and apple pie macarons, all crafted by Devyn.

The beginning of a migraine forms behind my eyes, and I sigh.

I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to save her job, nor Jamie or Luke’s.

A year ago, I’m sure I would have found a solution.

But now…

“Hey.” Skylar enters the room and grabs her apron, early for her shift. “We’re slow today, huh? What’s up with that?”

“Mm-hmm.” I keep the rag pressed to my hand, the pain subsiding.

“Okay, well, it’s slow now, but just wait until we announce the holiday boxes—oh shit, are you okay? I mean, fuck…” She squints her eyes shut and crinkles her nose. “…I didn’t mean are you okay , I mean I was just checking in?—”

I fight back a groan. “I’m fine , but I do need to talk to you about something.”

Skylar’s blue eyes widen as she finishes tying her apron. “Oh, shit. What?”

I sigh. “It’s about Devyn, Luke, and Jamie.”

“Ugh. What did the kiddos do?” Skylar fakes a grimace. I know she adores them even though she teases them, which makes what I’m going to tell her that much worse.

“It’s nothing they did, it’s just?—”

Devyn pops her face in, her bright eyes wide and her blonde ponytail waving back and forth. “Hey, we just got busy. April, could you help?”

“Sure.” I glance at Skylar. “We’ll talk later, okay?”

“Okay,” Skylar murmurs. I can tell my best friend is freaking out, though.

So am I.

I don’t know how to help Devyn. I don’t know how to help anyone.

Grant yourself grace.

Sandy’s words aren’t helping at the moment.

I drag my feet out of the stockroom, reluctant to face any more customers.

But as I step into the front of the café, I realize three things at once.

One, we’re not busy at all. There’s only one customer in the entire café.

Two, the Alpha at the counter, frowning with impatience, is gorgeous .

Three, his scent almost knocks me over.

But none of that matters. I shove the acknowledgement of his good looks into the back of my mind. His black hair, dark stubble and hard jaw structure aren’t important. The grey suit that looks like it was tailored just for him isn’t that flattering.

Yet it doesn’t stop my heart from beating out of my chest as he looks at me with icy blue eyes, his dark brows furrowed with an intense gaze.

“Hello. Can I help you?” My voice is steady even as I breathe in his scent.

He smells like the ocean. He smells like the best memories I’ve ever had with my mom, just the two of us, relaxing on the beach in overcast weather.

It’s sea salt with a hint of woodsy earthiness.

“Just a black coffee,” he sighs, his voice low. “Apparently, your coworker suddenly had to organize your pastry counter and was unable to help me.”

I glance at Devyn, who has innocently buried her face in the macarons, straightening out an already perfect row of the chocolate peppermint flavor.

It suddenly makes sense why she called me out here.

The brat.

A nineteen-year-old playing matchmaker for me was not something I had on my bucket list.

Besides, the Alpha in front of me may be handsome and smell incredible, but his scowl and attitude do not entice me.

Biologically, yes.

But rationally? Absolutely not.

Not that I could have a normal relationship, anyway. If he knew my past, he would run screaming.

“Sure,” I reply cooly, wanting this man to leave. “What size?”

He waves his hand in dismissal as he looks at his phone. “Whatever is fine.”

I let out a scoff before I can stop myself, and he looks at me, surprise etched on his features. “Is something the matter?” he asks quietly.

Devyn, who apparently has been listening to the exchange, lets out a tiny “ oop .”

Aside from your abysmal attitude and sense of entitlement? Nothing.

I swear I could hear Skylar’s voice in my head and it’s tempting to say the words out loud.

But the last thing we need to do is lose a customer and leave a bad impression even if they’re only buying a coffee.

“Nothing at all,” I say. “But I need to brew a new batch. Do you mind waiting a few minutes?”

Hopefully he leaves without making a big deal out of it. But he just looks at me, his eyes curious, and nods.

“I don’t mind,” he says softly. He swipes a black credit card, one that screams wealth and privilege.

He’s definitely not from Isleton.

“It’ll be ready in a few minutes,” I murmur, handing him his receipt. He continues to look at me as if expecting me to react to something.

I turn away from him to prepare his coffee, ignoring his scent and the way my cheeks flush.

But as I turn, I accidentally hit the counter with the back of my burned hand and hiss in pain.

Damn it.

Devyn appears next to me as I pour a bag of coffee beans into the grinder.

“Hi,” she says innocently, her ponytail swishing with excitement.

“What was that all about?” I hiss over the grind of the machine. “You could have helped him just fine.”

“No, I couldn’t have,” she chirps. “I was fixing the display. The macarons were out of alignment.”

“You and I both know they were already perfectly aligned.”

“Yes, I know, because I did them.” She grins. “He’s cute, huh?”

I sigh. “Devyn, I’m not interested in some?—”

“Why not just talk to him? There’s no harm in that, right?”

Skylar appears next to me, sipping an iced coffee as I pour the coffee grounds in the machine. “What’s up with that guy? You should go talk to him, April.”

I glare at my friend, annoyed at her betrayal. “Why? I’m not interested in some finance bro or whatever he is.”

“Because it wouldn’t kill you to socialize more,” Skylar says, quiet enough for only me to hear. “I’m not saying you have to blow him, but…I know your type. And that guy is definitely your type.”

I bristle. “What, entitled?”

“No.” Skylar rolls her eyes. “Someone who appears to have their shit together. Responsible. Handsome. Stable.”

I chance a glance at the Alpha who is seated at a table in the corner, quietly taking a phone call. He looks up at me, an eyebrow cocked, and I turn my head, my cheeks flaming.

“This is ridiculous. I’m not a teenager,” I mutter as I grab a paper cup for his coffee.

But my conversation with Sandy plays in my head.

I should talk to new people—especially if it's someone that likely doesn’t know who I am.

I’m making a big deal over nothing. There’s no reason to overthink it.

And he is attractive. Skylar was right—looks wise, he’s exactly what I’m attracted to. And his scent…

It wouldn’t kill me just to hand him his coffee and tell him to have a nice day. Even if he’s a dick about it, I will still have done it.

It’s baby steps towards becoming a functioning adult again.

Devyn hands me a chocolate chip cookie on a napkin, her eyes twinkling in delight.

I frown. “What’s this for?”

“For him.”

“I’m not giving him a random cookie, Devyn. That’s weird.”

“No, it’s cute.” Devyn practically has hearts in her eyes. “And it’s a sales technique! He’s a new customer and he should know about how great our cookies are.”

Skylar snorts behind me.

“That’s even weirder . I’m not going to pitch to him. No.”

Devyn pouts , her eyes wide, and I’m reminded of the conversation I had with my mom.

Unless I can find a way to save her job, we’ll have to let her go.

The least I can do is this.

Guilt consumes me as I take the coffee and cookie and head over to the Alpha’s table. When I approach, he ends his call and looks up at me, his icy eyes piercing. His scent envelops me, comforting and delicious as I place the cup and cookie on the table in front of him.

“Thanks for waiting. Also, the cookie is on the house.” I try to give him a genuine smile, but the act feels foreign.

His reaction doesn’t help. He looks at the cookie, confused. “Why?”

Why? Instead of a ‘thank you’, it’s a why?

“We try to give first-time customers a sample of our pastries. We’re famous for them.”

He wrinkles his nose as he looks at the cookie, like he’s never seen one before.

The silence is awkward, but I catch Devyn and Skylar watching me excitedly, both sipping from their coffee cups.

This is pointless.

“Well, have a good day?—”

“Famous how?” he interrupts, looking up at me.

“We’ve won baking competitions with our recipes, and we have orders all over the country for our macarons. We can never keep them in stock.”

I realize I’m crossing my arms as I stand in front of him, and I make the effort to relax.

Baby steps.

“And who is April?”

I stiffen at my name coming from his mouth. “What?”

“It’s April’s Café , correct?” His voice is low and amused. “Who is April?”

Duh.

“That’s me,” I reply.

“This is your café?” He looks genuinely interested, and he cocks his head slightly as he regards me.

I nod. “It’s mine and my mom’s.”

A ghost of a smile quirks on his lip, and I ignore the thudding in my heart. “That’s impressive,” he murmurs.

I can’t tell if he’s mocking me as he sits in his perfectly tailored suit.

I doubt this is his idea of impressive, especially if he knew the financial troubles we were facing.

Still, why am I suddenly so defensive?

I never used to be like this.

“Thank you,” I say, forcing myself to take the compliment.

It’s the first conversation I’ve had in months where the person didn’t immediately recognize me. There’s no pity in the stranger’s eyes as he regards at me. Instead, his pupils dilate slightly and his scent deepens. He stares too long at me for it to be polite, and I swallow.

“Would you like to have dinner with me?”

I blink, unsure if I heard him correctly. “I…what?”

He cocks a sculpted eyebrow. “Dinner. With me. I’m asking you out.”

I glance back at my friends who have suddenly made themselves busy at the counter.

My heart races, but I force my tone to remain calm. “Sorry, I don’t even know your name. I?—”

He sticks his hand out. “Donovan.”

I shake his hand, his warm palm engulfing mine, and electricity courses through me.

“April,” I whisper.

His lip quirk turns into a full smile, showing off straight white teeth. “I know.”

Of course he knows. I literally just told him.

When I reluctantly release his grip, my body aches for more. Goosebumps prick my skin, and I’m embarrassed by my reaction to him.

He’s just an Alpha, and I don’t even know him.

“Now that we’re on a first name basis,” he purrs. “Allow me the pleasure of taking you out.”

My head spins.

This has to be a joke.

I shake my head, snapping myself back to reality. “I’m not looking for any—” but an obnoxious cough interrupts me, and I see Skylar making a face at me.

“Excuse me,” I mutter, heading behind the counter. “What the hell is the matter with you?” I hiss at Skylar.

“He’s asking you out. You should say yes.”

“So, you’re suddenly a master eavesdropper now?”

“River is teaching me to read lips.” She grins at the mention of her Alpha. “Just go. I’ll have the guys investigate him, and if he’s weird, you’ll just cancel.”

I hesitate, imagining how ridiculous I look to Donovan. Running back and forth between my friends to help me decide if I should go out with him—it’s like we’re in high school.

“Say yes,” Skylar insists. “Remember, we’re supposed to get out more and expand our social circles.”

Both our therapists have the same idea, and Skylar has been able to take the advice. I haven’t yet.

“I’ll have Vincent tail you if you want him to,” she adds.

The perks of having detectives as your packmates.

Devyn enters from the stockroom, loudly slurping her iced coffee. I meet her expression, and her innocent eyes full of excitement are what makes me finalize my decision.

“Fuck it,” I mutter. “Why not?”

“Yes!” Skylar hisses. “Yes, yes yes !”

“Okay, stop ,” I whisper. “Keep it together until he leaves.”

She motions zipping her lip shut with her fingers as I return to Donovan’s table.

I can do this. I can be normal for one whole minute.

“Sorry about that,” I say. “Does your offer for dinner still stand?”

“It does. Just like it did forty-five seconds ago.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Then my answer has changed to yes.”

He smirks. “Lucky me.”

I roll my eyes and pull out my phone from my pocket. “Sure. So, if you want to give me your number--”

“Right here.” He hands me a business card, made from thick cream paper. Donovan Axton is printed on it in black font, along with the name Axton Incorporated . A phone number is printed at the bottom.

“I mean, you could have just told me your number, but I guess this is fine,” I mutter.

I’m doing it. I’m having a normal conversation, even though inside I’m panicking.

I don’t know who this new April is but navigating her is painful.

“Great. Tomorrow at eight o’clock?” he asks, snapping me out of my thoughts.

“I mean, don’t you need my address and all of that?”

But Donovan stands and I involuntarily take a step back. His frame towers over me, tall and broad as I look up at him.

“You’ll text me the details,” he says. “Won’t you?”

I swallow. “Yeah,” I mumble.

“Good.” He gives me a soft smile. “I look forward to getting to know you better, April.” I watch slack-jawed as he walks out the door, coffee and cookie in hand. The bell above the door dings pleasantly while I stand there in shock with his business card.

What the hell did I just agree to?