Knot A Trace: Part One

“Hi, honey,” Tammy says sweetly as I answer the door. “Just checking to see if you’re doing okay.”

It’s Tammy code for I’m making sure you haven’t spiraled into oblivion.

But she shouldn’t be worrying about me—she should worry about herself. I know she’s being strong for me, and she shouldn’t have to be.

Unfortunately, I didn’t know she was coming, so my kitchen looks like a bomb went off. With three electric mixers plugged in, my meager counter is overwhelmed with baked treats and spilled ingredients.

My hair is no better. Flour sticks out as white splotches against the dark strands of my bun, and I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a blob of raspberry preserves somewhere on me.

I’m working quickly and trying to clean as I go, but my mind is racing faster than my hands.

“Hello,” I answer lamely. “Sorry, everything’s messy right now.”

She looks me up and down and gives me a half smile. “I noticed. Are you overworking yourself?”

“Me?” I step aside as she enters my house. “Never,” I lie, watching as she sets her purse down on the front table. “Just, you know, blowing off some steam.”

Tammy’s grey eyes take in the sight of my kitchen. “And what new flavors have you created today?” she asks, her gaze falling on a batch of dark brown macarons. “Those look interesting.”

“Salted coffee caramel,” I answer, plucking two off the tray. “Caramel buttercream inside, sea salt flakes on top of an espresso cookie.”

I keep one for myself and hand the other to her, and she joins me on the couch. I watch as she takes a bite and her eyes close. That soft expression alone is worth the sleepless nights and frantic panic baking—along with the mess I just created by sitting down on my couch.

“Wonderful,” she says, smiling. “You never cease to amaze me.”

I bask in her praise. She’s the mother I never had—my own mother and I have barely spoken since high school.

Which is why it’s so hard to see her heartbroken over her daughter.

I feel like I’ve lost my sister, and the family I’ve found is fractured.

“You’re doing too much,” she adds, giving me a knowing look. “You’re obsessing, and it’s not good for you.”

Guilt flares in my chest. “You don’t have to worry about me,” I promise her. “I have a plan. I know what I’m doing.”

Tammy gives me a soft, sad smile. “It’s not your job to find her.” Her voice cracks on the last word and the hole in my chest grows.

I swallow and stare at my half-eaten cookie. “I know that,” I say slowly, unable to look at Tammy.

But I don’t know that. In my mind, I need to find April.

This is my fault, somehow. Maybe if I hadn’t snapped at her that day, she would have done something differently. I should have checked in that night, instead of waiting for her to text me.

“Have you been taking your suppressants?” Tammy continues. “You’re still doing everything you should, right?”

“Of course,” I answer quickly. “Why do you ask?”

But I still don’t meet her eyes. I stare at the macaron, biting my lip.

“I just don’t see any blankets around here,” she says. “And I know how much you like your luxuries. I just wanted to make sure you remembered our conversation all those months ago.”

I swallow the lump in my throat as guilt bubbles in my stomach.

“I’m the last person you need to worry about right now,” I mutter, finally looking up and meeting her eyes. “Please.”

But Tammy always sees through me. Ever since Jason, I’ve stripped my house of my nesting blankets, comfortable throws, and overstuffed pillows.

I shoved them all into my closet, where they gather dust.

He told me I was too much, too demanding, too overwhelming. And that was the reason he left.

I was too much of an Omega.

I shake the memories away, refusing to let tears come to my eyes now.

Tammy had literally picked me up off the ground as April tried to drill it into my head that I did not have to change for someone else.

That I wasn’t too much just because I liked a lavish nest and extra attention during my Heat.

That Jason was the defective one for thinking I was too clingy and not wanting to give me the attention I deserved as an Omega.

But still, the blankets stay hidden away, along with every other luxury Jason rolled his eyes at.

“I’m always going to worry about you,” Tammy says gently. “You’re my bonus kid, remember?”

I chuckle. “Yeah. I remember. But as your bonus kid, I’m telling you that I’ve got stuff handled, and we’re in this together.”

Tammy’s eyes become misty, and I make a face at her. “Nope. If you cry, I swear to God, Tammy, I’ll start crying too and never stop.”

But Tammy, like always, smiles through her tears and takes another bite of macaron.

I sigh.

I miss April so much it kills me.

You better be alive, I think to myself. Your mom can’t do this without you, and neither can I.

Tammy stays for the rest of the afternoon, graciously not commenting on the excessive number of macarons I scarf down.

I have way too much faith in those cookies, but it’s the best plan I have.

The reward money isn’t enough.

I need an Alpha detective.