by Ciara Knight
“I’ll make this right, Jake. I promise that you won’t lose your mama’s home. And I won’t lose my abuelo’s garage.”
Tonight she needed to dig deep into Knox’s past, his idea for her future, and confront him. It was Knox’s turn to deliver on his promise.
Twenty-Four
Knox stood outside the garage with meatless burritos and a knot of apprehension in his gut. He tried to move, to knock, but his body froze. Froze from the realization that he had to open the door to something he’d closed a long time ago.
His pulse drummed in his ears. His heart hammered against his chest. Flashes of Alima’s eyes, her tender touch, her belief that he would keep her safe in a war-torn country.
“Come in already. I’m hungry,” Stella called from the three steps leading to a place he wanted to go but was struggling with the path to get there. She’d worn the white dress. Somehow she’d removed the stains, and in the glowing yellow porch light, she looked like a dark-haired angel.
“I can’t. I thought I could. But I can’t. I’m sorry.” He about-faced but then remembered the burritos. Before he could think, he marched to her and held out the bag. “Here, I’m sorry. I…I can’t.”
“Then we’ll eat.” She retrieved the bag and then took his hand. “You’re shaking. Come inside.”
He hated himself for being weak. There was nothing worse than showing someone you were damaged goods, not worthy of real affection. “I’m not the man you think I am.”
Stella didn’t even blink. “I think you’re more than you give yourself credit for.”
He followed her inside, despite his stomach and chest burning with warning. The 916’s hood was open, and tools were around it. Irritation erupted, covering his fear. “You’re working on his car?”
“Yes,” Stella said in a matter-of-fact tone.
“I see.” He pulled his captive hand from her and moved away to think, kicking a wrench that clanked across the floor.
“He already paid me.” Stella touched his back.
“I guess it’s for the best. You might not believe this, but I want you to save your garage.” He turned and found himself in her arms, a circle of warmth and comfort he didn’t deserve, so he broke free and paced the gray, oil-stained floor until he discovered a blanket with candles. A bottle of wine rested on ice. A scene of seduction he wanted to star in without any backstory. Stella had believed they could move forward into a new kind of relationship, one he wanted more than the air in the room, but he couldn’t. He didn’t deserve love. He didn’t deserve Stella.
“I have the money to pay Jake. This is a win for everyone.” Stella knelt on the blanket, poured wine into a glass, and held it out for him. He wanted to leave, but he couldn’t bring himself to go.
He took the glass and unceremoniously downed two gulps. The citrus flavor lingered for a second and then faded from his tongue. “I’m telling Lori that I won’t move forward with the streaming project and we’ll do the segment on the clothing store.”
“What about your dream for television?” Stella lingered near him but didn’t make a move to touch him again.
“It doesn’t matter. It wasn’t meant to be.” He could feel Stella so close and yet so far away. “I’ve concentrated on this dream career for the last decade. It was fun and I don’t regret it, but I want more in my life.”
“Like what?” Stella nudged the burrito bag out of the way and tapped the blanket. The rough edges of her personality had been sanded away, and all he could see was her sweet, caring side.”
“I want a life like yours,” he blurted before his mind ever processed the idea.
“Mine?” She scanned the room.
He didn’t know if it was the wine or her, but his heartbeat slowed and he wanted to stay a little longer. He knelt by her and set the wineglass on the ground behind him. “Yes. Don’t you see how amazing your life is here in Sugar Maple? You may not have riches or fame, but you have something better. You have a town-family. One who would do anything for you and who you would do anything for. I didn’t get it when I first arrived. I thought you were all backwards and crazy. But when I was working the garden today, I saw it. The unconditional love that only comes from family. I didn’t understand before today. But the “neighbors looking out for neighbors” mentality is almost like brothers of war. An inexplicable bond that forms through intense situations.”
“You’re right. I do have a modest but good life here. That’s probably why I’ve lived this poor for so long.”
“I just don’t want to see you suffer. I want to protect and care for you.” Nervous energy catapulted him into action. He shoved from the ground, his breaths short and fast.
“Why?”
He paced and fought the stinging, nerve-gnawing pain eating away at his insides. “Because I couldn’t save Alima.” He grabbed his head, the flashes like a strobe light sending sharp pain through his skull behind his eyes.
A hand rubbed small circles on his back. Another hand held tight to his bicep. “You lost someone in Iraq, and it haunts you still today,” she said in a hesitant tone, but with a hint of confidence.
The muscles in his arms shook, tears stung his eyes, but he could feel her tiny hands slide halfway around him and her cheek rest to his chest.
Comfort.
It frightened him, and he wanted to shove her away and run far from here, far from the memories, but he resisted, closing his eyes tight to stay in control.
They stood there for several minutes until his breath slowed, his heart didn’t thrash against his chest. “I’m sorry. Excuse me.” He tried to slide away, but she didn’t let him go. She held tight as if she’d never let him fall into his pit of grief again.
“You’ve carried a secret that has corroded you from the inside out.” She hugged him tight to her and then released him enough to look up at him.
He didn’t want to see the pity in her eyes, but when he looked down, he was surprised. All he saw was compassion and understanding.
“You’ll never heal if you keep pushing people away. Trust me, I know.” She stood strong before him, but how long would her strength keep her safe? “I won’t force you to tell me, but I won’t lie. I’m disappointed. I thought there was something happening here.” She slipped away, like the scarf from Alima’s head.
He grabbed the back of the lawn chair sitting near the 916 and bent the frame. “There is.”
“Then talk to me. We both know that you have a choice to make here and now. You’ve tortured yourself long enough. And if I’m being honest, I hope whatever this is between us moves forward. I’d hate for this to end before it ever begins. But I won’t be another girl on your arm to show off until you get too close. We’re either real, or we don’t happen.”
“She died because she loved me and she trusted the wrong person.” He spit the words out, but the bitterness remained.
The clock on the wall ticked slower than his pulse. He thought he’d fall to his knees and scream at God, but he didn’t. The three-thousand-pound missile piercing his heart flaked and fell from him. Shrapnel remained with sharp edges, but that could be removed piece by piece.
Stella lifted her chin and then walked over to the blanket and sat down. “I know how hard that was for you to say. For now, why don’t you sit by my side and we can relax? The Band-Aid’s been ripped off, but your wound’s raw. I can wait until you want to tell me more.”
“No. I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but I want to tell you.” Knox slumped. “You need to know what kind of man I am before you decide to let anything between us move forward.”
“You’re a brave and caring person who has been through a lot,” Stella said in a soft voice.
“I don’t know about that.”
“We’re the same. Wounded, untrusting, and lonely because we’ve kept everyone at a distance to protect ourselves from more pain.” Stella patted the blanket next to her. “You can trust me. Heck, I put on a dress for you.”
“No heels, though.�
�� He pointed to her bare feet.
“They turned back into some inanimate object, and if I don’t eat soon, I’ll turn into a pumpkin,” she said with a grin.
“I don’t think your slippers were glass, and you don’t strike me as the fairy godmother–wishing type,” Knox teased.
“I think Ms. Horton could play the fairy godmother part well.” Stella half shrugged.
Knox noticed that he wasn’t gripping the chair as if it were his lifeline and his breath and pulse had calmed. Stella had done that. He wanted to tell her everything and pray she would still want to be with him. “You know you’re special. You’re strong and independent, yet you have a softer side.”
“Don’t go telling people that. I like being unapproachable. Besides, I’m not good with the girly gossip and crying-over-a-man stuff. We don’t want to give the girls the wrong impression. Lord knows I taught Jackie to never braid my hair after the kindergarten finger-painting incident.”
He returned to Stella’s side, this time settling in, relaxing, and putting his legs out in front of him. It was time. They were alone. No one else could hear his failures. No one could post them on the Internet for the world to read about. He’d spent so much time running from his past. He was exhausted and wanted to rest. Perhaps now he would be able to sleep. “I didn’t mean to fall in love, but I was young and naïve. Perhaps I was even a little bit of a romantic.”
Stella didn’t say anything, but her lip twitched into a knowing grin. That’s when he realized she’d already seen that in him, considering the candles and the wine. She hadn’t staged that for herself. She’d done that for him, dress and all. She deserved to know the entire truth. “Alima—” saying her name aloud caused him to take in a stuttered breath “—was a local woman in an Iraqi village we were occupying in order to protect the villagers.”
Stella took his hand and held it tight, letting him know she was there and he was safe.
“I thought Alima was strong and smart and loved me, but in the end I was wrong. So wrong.” He closed his eyes, and images slid into view. “I should’ve seen the signs. She’d bring me food and sneak away from her family to speak with me. I was careful since the prejudice against the occupying American soldiers had reached epic proportions after an incident involving an entire family in a nearby village. It was war, but going in I thought we were the good guys.” He snorted. “A young man’s view.”
She didn’t say anything. She only sat in silence with an attentive tilt to her head and gaze zeroed in on him.
“Our relationship changed from acquaintances to friends to falling in love. We were there long enough to set up a routine, and despite the men ready to move on to the next battle, I was content with remaining. But the war caught up, and it was headed our way. I knew the villagers would be executed or worse, so I made arrangements to get Alima to a safer area. I vowed to return and marry her the minute I had leave, and then I’d work on moving her to the States. I thought I was giving her the world. I never thought she wouldn’t want to leave the war-torn home she had always known.”
He stopped for a moment, eyeing the dark hole of loss. He’d blocked the memories for so long, it unnerved him to face them again. Perhaps he’d said enough for one day.
Stella rubbed her thumb over his hand, caressing and massaging the fear from him.
“One day I was supposed to meet with her family for coffee. An honor that appeared to seal our plans. I knew this invitation meant their approval of our plan and ultimately our marriage, but I was wrong.” He sucked in a deep, oil and gasoline–scented breath. “I was delayed by my commanding officer, and when I arrived…” He swallowed the lump of regrets. “When I arrived and saw Alima in the doorway, the home exploded.”
Stella squeezed his fingers. “I’m so sorry.”
“It gets worse. She’d set it up. She’d sacrificed herself, me…us in exchange for her family.”
Stella rose to her knees and cradled his head to her chest.
His arms, legs, shoulders shook. Her heartbeat soothed him enough to keep him from screaming. “Every night, when I close my eyes, I see the headscarf I gave her float away in the air, the way it did the day of the explosion. Why did she trust those savages over me?”
“I don’t think she did. She chose her family over her own life, and you were collateral damage. I wasn’t there, but according to the news, that’s how the extremist groups work. They manipulate by focusing on loyalty and terror.”
“No, she set me up.”
“Did she?”
He pulled away, blinking through his tear-filled eyes. “Didn’t you hear what I said?”
“Yes, but did you ever think about the fact that you weren’t inside the building when it blew?”
“That’s because I was late.”
Stella caressed his cheek. “I think she sacrificed herself to save all of you. If the bomb went off early, I think she did that. Can you remember how the bomb exploded?”
The world stopped rotating around him. His entire existence paused, and he rewound to that day. “I can see the door open. She steps out wearing the headscarf and…a…vest.” The air rushed into his lungs, the world spun out of control… He pressed his hand to the ground at his side to keep him from falling over. “Suicide?”
Twenty-Five
For the first time in years, a man had stolen Stella’s attention, despite her best effort to keep distance between them. When Knox had shown up at Jake’s place and dug in the dirt at her side, she’d realized Knox Brevard was more than just an Internet personality. There were more layers to him. There was something special about Knox. Now she saw him as a compassionate, caring, charismatic man with a wounded heart.
After several clicks of the clock’s second hand, she let out a breath she’d held in for as long as she could. “You know it’s not your fault that Alima made that choice. If you’re honest with yourself, you’ll see that all you did was try to save her from a horrible situation.”
“I can hear those words, but it doesn’t mean that I can accept them. I’m tired of holding on to the guilt for so many years, though. I guess I thought I didn’t deserve a life if she didn’t have one, too. And I thought I could never trust another person after she’d betrayed me like that.”
“I’m realizing that trust is something we all struggle with in one form or another.”
He scooted closer, knee-to-knee, eye-to-eye, soul-to-soul. “I’ve never trusted anyone enough to tell them about Alima, not even Drew. I hope you know how much it means that I could trust you”
Stella felt the sting of tears and blinked them away, knowing that if he had trusted her with his deepest secret, she could finally trust him having hers. “Knowing that helps. I guess we’ll both have to work on our trust issues, but…I’m glad I can trust you, too.”
The aroma of the burritos made her stomach growl, reminding her she hadn’t eaten all day. “Sorry,” she said, feeling her face warm with embarrassment
“Please, eat.” His thumb brushed over her knuckle, distracting her from hunger to more primal needs.
“No, I’ll wait.”
He swallowed hard enough for her to hear. “I think we’ve both been waiting a long time. I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of waiting.”
His fingers grazed her chin, caressed her cheek, brushed her ear. The closeness, the feeling of his fingers sweeping over her skin stoked an excitement inside her and a calmness she hadn’t felt in years. This man in front of her wasn’t like other men she’d known. As Ms. Horton would say, he was true of heart.
“I am, too.” She lunged into him and captured his lips.
He rose onto his knees wrapping his strong arms around her and pulling her close. His mouth was like spring: fresh, welcoming, and invigorating. She lost herself in the kiss that stole memories of all other kisses. Her body swelled with hope, and her insides turned to mush. She melted into him, surrendering to his affections and praying they could find a little happiness together.
Everything blurred until his passion changed to soft, sweeping kisses down her face and neck. When he sat back, she collapsed onto her hip, and they both sat with wide eyes, panting.
Their chests rose and fell at the same rapid cadence. The clock on the wall ticking away came into focus. A car passed on the street.
Knox entwined his fingers with hers. “I have an idea. I thought it might be too crazy, but now I believe anything’s possible.” He took a deep breath, as if to replenish what he’d lost a few moments earlier. “Hear me out, okay?”
She nodded, scared she’d sound like Mary-Beth discovering a jewelry sale, high-pitched and way too excited.
“You’ve been trying so hard to keep your grandfather’s garage open and the same as when he ran it, but life isn’t the same now.”
She looked to the ground, feeling her failures too powerful to face, but he tipped her chin up to face him.
“It isn’t your fault. The car industry has gone through a computer revolution, but you still love the old world of getting your hands dirty. I respect that. It’s one of the things I like about you. You’re true to yourself, and I can’t bear to see you change. You’re perfect the way you are. That’s why I think that if you agree to do the show, we should focus on the restoration, not on the fixing cars side of things.”
Her gaze snapped to his. “But—”
“I’m going to have Drew run an analysis, but it doesn’t take a public relations and business analysis to know there’s an opportunity with your skill set. I did a quick search and found places that charge a fortune to have this done. I believe we should run my segment on your 1957 Chevy—or the 916 if you prefer—and show you working on the restoration. I believe it’ll generate a ton of business for you and it’ll be what you need to get out of debt and live a better life. And the only thing I’m offering is my platform, no strings attached. I only offer you an opportunity. Because Stella Frayser, you don’t need anyone to take care of you.” He squeezed her fingers. “That doesn’t mean you don’t need anyone in your life, though.”