Knox sat there studying me, his dark eyes narrowed with worry.
This was a bad idea; this was such a bad idea.
He finally smirked. “You always did like older guys.” His dark eyes flickered down to the food for a second. “Why don’t you eat.” It didn’t come across as a suggestion.
I picked off the edge of my sandwich and played with the bread as I prompted him to talk. “Tell me about you. Not finishing school and getting married is really the only thing that’s been going on with me since we last talked.”
I didn’t miss the way his eyes didn’t leave where my fingers were playing with the bread, or the way his face hardened when I turned everything around onto him. “Uh, I finished school. Went through fire academy, work for the department in Richland now.”
“Really?” I asked, a genuine smile crossing my face for the first time in years.
“Yeah. Was doing that the last year of school, so I’ve been there awhile now. I actually just finished a shift and was grabbing coffee before I headed back to Thatch.”
“That’s great, Knox!”
He flashed a smile at me, and nodded at my sandwich. “Actually eat it, Harlow.”
I took a bite for his benefit, and chewed slowly. “What else?”
“Keep eating,” he said softly. The words sounding like a cross between a plea and command. “I’ll talk if you eat.”
Panic gripped at my chest when I understood the worry in his eyes. He noticed the difference in my weight. It was different for my family, watching it gradually come off. Knox was seeing it all at once, and if the way his eyes kept anxiously darting over my body was anything to judge by, it was obvious that I looked drastically different. Trying to act like I didn’t have a clue about what he was seeing, or that I knew what he was doing, I rolled my eyes and took another large bite.
“There isn’t much else. I work a lot; that takes up the majority of my time. I live with Graham and Deacon. They haven’t changed much, either.”
I laughed uneasily at the reminder of his best friends. “Ah. I’m sure those two were happy to have me out of your life.”
Knox’s eyes darted quickly to mine, then down to the table. A few moments of uneasy silence passed between us before he said, “They know not to mention you.”
I didn’t know how to respond to that. I simply said, “Oh,” and tried to change the subject. I figured he wasn’t married if he was living with the guys, so I asked, “Girlfriend? Fiancée?”
He laughed softly. “No. I’m not the kind of guy to let things get serious now. I can hardly even stand to see a girl more than once. For years I didn’t know why that was, until I just walked into the coffee shop and saw you sitting there—and all of it finally made sense.”
I didn’t want to think of the other women. Focusing on his last words, I said, “Knox . . . we haven’t even talked in years.”
“I know, Low, trust me; I know. But I had every intention of spending the rest of my life with you. Just because you weren’t waiting for me in the end, doesn’t mean everything I’d been waiting for and feeling for you could just stop.”
My stomach and chest tightened, and I wanted to tell him that everything had changed for me. My feelings for Knox had multiplied over the years. I pressed my lips into a firm line to keep myself from saying things to him that would only cause Knox and me pain, and my family possibly their lives.
My head shook slowly back and forth. “This was a mistake,” I said, and started to stand, but he caught my wrist.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry; I’ll stop. Please don’t leave yet.”
I pulled until he released my wrist. “I’m sorry, Knox. I can’t stay—”
“Are you sick?” he asked suddenly, his tone grave.
My head jerked back to look at him and my mouth opened as I stood there in confusion. “Sick? No, I just have to go.”
Knox’s dark eyes moved around the bakery before pleading with me. “Sit.”
I shakily sat back in the chair as I tried to figure out what this pained expression on his face, and his question, could mean.
“Are you sick?” he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t look at me like you don’t know why I’m asking.”
“But I—”
“Your wedding ring is barely staying on your finger. You’re drowning in a shirt that looks like it’s meant to cling to your body.”
My heart skipped a painful beat and I fell against the back of the chair, wincing when it hit a sore spot.
Knox’s observations didn’t stop. “I was afraid I would break your wrist just by touching it. Your collarbones and cheekbones are sticking out way too far. You’re pale, Low, and the circles under your eyes are so dark.” He leaned forward to rest his hand on top of mine. “Low, are you sick?”
“No,” I answered honestly, but the word came out sounding like a horrified confession as I worried about what this would lead to.
The relief that filled his dark eyes was only there for a brief second before his entire frame tightened. “Are you—do you have an eating disorder?”
I needed to stop his questions before this could continue. Hardening my eyes at the man I’d missed, loved, craved, and ached for, I stood and gritted, “I don’t, but after almost five years of not seeing you, Knox, I’m glad to know you now find me repulsive.”
“Harlow!” he barked as I turned and walked quickly toward the door. “Harlow, stop!” he begged when we were outside.
I didn’t stop until I got to my car, and then it was only to pause to open the door—but the pause was long enough. One of Knox’s arms wrapped around my waist, and I bit back a cry of pain as he turned me, his other hand coming up to cup my cheek. A motion so familiar with him that tears began stinging my eyes again as I realized I felt whole for the first time in too long. But I couldn’t stand here like this with him. Someone might see, and it could get back to Collin. I started moving away, but paused when he spoke again.
“If you think anything about you could ever repulse me, you’re wrong,” he growled. “I am terrified by what I see in front of me right now. When I look at you, I can’t find the feisty girl whose blue eyes held so much fire for life. I want to know what’s happened to make you look like this and I want to fix it—but not once has anything close to repulsion crossed my mind.” His thumb brushed against my cheek when a lone tear fell out, and when he spoke again, his voice was soft. “You’re still beautiful, Harlow. And seeing you today, right now, I know I’m still as in love with you as I was four and a half years ago.”
“You can’t say that to me, Knox,” I whispered, and looked around the parking lot to make sure no one was around. “I’m married; you can’t just say the things you’ve said to me today. And you can’t touch me anymore.”
Acceptance and hurt settled over his features, and he nodded once, but his hands never moved. “Why did you start crying when you saw me?”
“I told you, I never thought I would see you again.”
“That—” He paused and blew out a harsh breath. “That was not a normal reaction to have only for you to be pushing me away the way you are now. My number never changed; you could have called if you missed me that bad.”
I dropped my head and bit my tongue for the umpteenth time since seeing him in the coffee shop. It would be so easy. So easy to tell him everything—and it would be hazardous on levels I couldn’t even begin to comprehend.
Dipping his head down low, he spoke directly into my ear. “I’m sorry, but you were always supposed to be mine. After all this time it was hard to keep my mouth shut.” He released me and took a step back, and paused for only a second before he turned and walked away from me.
I didn’t look up to watch him walk away. I couldn’t. This was right, this was the way it had to be—but I knew if I watched him leave me now, I would break. And for the safety of my family, I couldn’t afford to break right now.
Chapter 6
Knox
Present Day—Thatc
h
I QUICKLY PACED the length of our living room as I replayed my entire conversation with Harlow over and over again. Part of me thought I was so tired from this last shift that I’d made the entire thing up; the rest knew there was no way it wasn’t real. She was there, in front of me . . . my girl, my world. She’d looked just as beautiful as I remembered, and at the same time, she’d looked too thin and sick. She was married, and to top it all off, she’d been living just twenty minutes from me for years, and I’d been fucking clueless.
Resting my fists on my hips, I turned in tight circles as my breathing got rougher, and finally let out a loud roar of frustration.
Of course I’d expected her to get married. It’d been more than four and a half years, and she’d made it clear that she didn’t choose me. I just never expected to have to know about it, or to have to see another man’s ring on her finger. That fucking ridiculous, massive ring.
I was still pacing and getting more frustrated by the minute when Deacon came home sometime later and immediately went into his room, and still later when Graham got home from work. It took me at least a minute to realize that he was standing there watching me, and I finally stopped pacing long enough to stare back at him.
“Yeah?” I asked when he didn’t say anything.
His gaze dropped to the floor, then narrowed when it met mine again. “There a reason you’re trying to murder the carpet?”
Yes. And the thought had me pacing again as I fought with myself to only force out a simple “Nope.”
Another minute later, I heard Grey ask, “What happened? Why is he pacing?”
I started to dismiss her questions, but before I could even understand my movements, I was turning around to grab her arm. With barely a nod in Jagger’s direction, I pulled Grey behind me toward my room.
“Hello to you, too,” she mumbled.
“What the hell?” Graham barked from the entryway, then asked Jagger, “You’re just going to let him take her to his room?”
I didn’t hear Jagger’s response, but I’d only had Grey seated on the edge of my bed and had been pacing again for about twenty seconds before Jagger slowly walked in.
“Graham wants me in here to make sure you don’t try to steal my wife from me.”
Grey rolled her eyes once I stopped pacing and was facing her again, and grabbed for Jagger’s hand when he sat next to her. “Are you going to tell me why you’re so weird, or do I have to guess?” Grey asked me. “And by the way, that was super rude. You could have asked me to walk; you didn’t have to drag me.”
“I didn’t drag you,” I mumbled as I ran my hands over my face. I sighed heavily and tried to talk myself out of telling her, to play everything off as another way to piss Graham off, but I needed to tell someone. “She’s in Richland, Grey. I saw her.”
She blinked slowly, then asked, “Who?”
“Her!”
“Oh yes, of course, her,” Grey scoffed, and Jagger looked away to hide the smile slowly crossing his face. “And by ‘her’ I can only begin to guess you mean one of the many girls you’ve slept with since you all finally started sleeping with girls outside of Thatch,” she said in a detached voice. “Come on, Knox, how on earth am I supposed to know who you mean? Is it one of the crazy ones? You know I can’t keep up with all of them.”
I glanced to my door then walked quickly over to shut it. When I was back in front of them, I spoke softly. “Harlow. Harlow is in Richland. She lives there—she has for years.”
“No way,” she whispered, and her eyes widened. “Whoa, wait. We just talked about her! Did you already know she was there and you didn’t tell me?”
“No. Are you kidding? You think you would’ve just now found me like this if I’d known all along?”
Grey shook her head, then smiled widely as her eyes brightened with excitement. “Well, this is great, Knox! I mean, she’s in Richland; that’s not far—you work there! How did you even see her?”
“I saw her when I was grabbing coffee on my way home. We talked for a little while.”
“She’s married,” Jagger said, speaking up. It hadn’t been a question, and I could hear the sympathy in his tone.
“What? No, she’s—wait, how do you know?” Grey asked, then looked back to me.
I ground my teeth and looked away from them for a second, and Jagger took the opportunity to continue talking.
“Knox looks how I felt every day of the seven years that you were with Ben.”
At the mention of Grey’s late fiancé, I automatically glanced in her direction to make sure she was okay. He had died suddenly just days before their wedding was supposed to happen three years ago. But instead of watching her break down, as I had so many times before, she just looked at me like she understood and felt sorry for me . . . and I knew her husband was to thank for that.
Jagger, Grey, and Ben had all been best friends growing up, and Jagger had been in love with Grey forever. When Ben had died, Jagger continued to be her best friend and help her through two years of grieving until Grey realized she was in love with him, too. It had been an easy transition for them, and it was obviously the best thing for Grey. I would always be thankful to Jagger for it—as I knew Graham and Deacon were.
If anyone knew how I felt, it was Jagger. He’d waited nine years for the girl he loved, and I’d been waiting seven. The only difference was Grey had never known that Jagger loved her, and Harlow had always known how I felt about her . . . and she’d chosen someone else.
“Is she, Knox?” Grey asked, her eyebrows pinched together like she was worried about what my answer would be. “Is she married?”
“Of course she is . . .”
“Knox,” she whispered, and stood to take a step toward me, but I stepped back.
“He is why she didn’t choose me.” Grey tried to take another step toward me, this time with her arms outstretched, and again I took another step back. “Don’t.”
“Why?”
“If you do, then I know that it really is over.”
Grey’s face morphed from sympathy to worry. The room was silent for a minute before she said, “She’s married. It is over.”
I was shaking my head before she’d gotten it all out. “You didn’t see her. You don’t understand.”
“Knox.” Now her voice was stern. “You cannot try to break up her marriage.”
“I’m not, but you don’t understand. She started crying as soon as she saw me, Grey, I know she—”
“I always had your back when you were waiting for her to be old enough, but this is different. You can’t do this. If she started crying when she saw you, then she has her own issues she needs to sort out, and you need to stay away from her while she does.” I started to talk, but she cut me off. “What are you going to do? Have an affair with her and be happy with that?”
“Grey,” I snapped, but to be honest, I didn’t know what my answer would have been. All I knew was that I still wanted Harlow, and she was so close.
“If she’s the kind of girl who would do that, then maybe Graham and Deacon were right about her all along. Maybe you were just a game to her, and maybe you still are.”
“No—” I began.
“Yes.”
“No, Grey, it can’t be a game. I can’t be.”
Grey breathed out heavily through her nose, and her gold eyes narrowed at me for a few moments before she was able to calm herself. “You even agreed with them when she ended it,” she reminded me with a whisper.
My stare dropped to the floor, and my head shook slowly, but not in denial. “Seeing her today . . . it brought back everything. I remember how it felt to be near her, to talk to her, just to have her—have her be mine. There’s no way to think that I was a game after being reminded how all that felt.”
None of us said anything for a few tense moments as Grey and I stared each other down. When Grey realized I wasn’t going to say anything else, a hint of sadness fell on her face and she said, “This is dangerous, Knox. She�
�s married.” She emphasized the last word, as if trying to make me understand the fact. As if I hadn’t already thought a hundred times today about what the rings on Harlow’s finger meant.
“She’s broken, Grey. I could see it, I could see how unhappy she is no matter how hard she tried to hide it.” Grey opened her mouth, a mix of irritation and doubt on her face, but I kept talking. “No, before you say anything, that’s not something I tricked myself into seeing. I saw her as soon as I walked into the coffee shop, and couldn’t stop staring at the girl who looked equally beautiful and dead.”
“Knox,” Grey whispered.
“She’s so broken I didn’t even realize it was Harlow until I was about to walk past her.”
“Knox,” she said a little harder, and grabbed my arm. “Even if she is, you have to understand that it is no longer your place to try to fix her.”
I looked to where Jagger was still sitting on the bed, silent as ever as he observed and thought, and gestured toward him. “You guys have to understand. I know you understand.”
“No, we don’t. What you have to understand is that she’s married and you need to step back,” Grey bit out, and without another word, she walked out of the room
Jagger’s head had turned in the direction Grey left, but he wasn’t looking toward the door; his eyes were far away. I was about to beg him for a different response than what his wife had given me, just to feel like I wasn’t the worst kind of bastard for again wanting someone I couldn’t have, but the slow shake of his head had me biting back any plea. “It was different—Grey and me,” he said. “We were both grieving a death, and I never once told Grey how I felt about her, or pushed any kind of relationship on her. So when I helped her, when I was there for her every day, it was only as her best friend—not as the guy who had loved her for years.”
“You can’t tell me there wasn’t any part of you that was doing that because you were in love with her.”
“I didn’t say that. I love Grey, always have, and everything I’ve done has been because I love her. But, for the first nine years of loving her, she thought we were only best friends. What I’m saying is that she never saw that side of me until two years after Ben died, and as you know, she wasn’t supposed to find out when she did. If she had known that I loved her before, I wouldn’t have been able to help her the way I did; I wouldn’t have been able to be there for her. Harlow knows how you feel, or felt; you can’t just go in there wanting to help her for any reason other than that you love her. Everything you did for Harlow since you were eighteen was because you were in love with her, and she knew it. Do you see the difference?”
To the Stars Page 7