Broken Knight

by Shen, L. J.

  Again, Jefferson ignored him. Our palms were still clasped together, and I made no hurry to withdraw mine.

  “I’m Poppy!” Knight’s girlfriend offered in her dangerously smooth British accent, thrusting her hand in Jefferson’s direction. He turned from me, his face opening up when he saw her.

  “I adore your accent.”

  “I adore your grandparents! I’ve been volunteering here for three months. Mainly over the weekends. Shame we never bumped into each other.”

  She was overeager to sell him to me by pointing out how attractive he was.

  “I usually volunteer on weekdays. I give the shelter dogs a live acoustic performance. It’s less dumb than it sounds, I promise.”

  “Doubt it,” Knight grunted.

  Poppy elbowed his ribs. Michael Jackson’s eating popcorn GIF played in my head. I stifled a smile. This was surprisingly entertaining.

  “It doesn’t sound dumb at all. I wish you’d come on the weekends,” Poppy purred, her gaze slicing to me.

  “Maybe I will.”

  “I’m the boyfriend, by the way,” Knight cut through their flirtatious exchange, offering Jefferson his big hand.

  Jefferson laughed and shook it. “No disrespect, man. I was actually baiting Luna.”

  He turned back to me. “You come here on weekends?”

  Knight’s jaw ticked.

  “Used to. I go to Boon in North Carolina now.”

  “Crying shame.”

  “I still have winter break.”

  Jefferson clutched his shirt where his heart was and threw his other fist in the air.

  “We must accept finite disappointment, but never lose infinite hope.”

  “You sure know your Martin Luther King, Jr., sir.” I grinned.

  Knight rolled his eyes. “Real subtle, bro.”

  Poppy poked her lower lip out, looking between us peculiarly. Of course she was happy if Jefferson and I rode off into the sunset together; then she could have Knight all to herself. Little did she know, I had no intention of spending time with her boyfriend this winter. Our last encounter in the treehouse had been a bid to keep the boat from flipping over, but Knight and I were both smart enough to know we were still on troubled water.

  Half an hour later, the place was jam-packed with families and couples, crouching and cooing over crates. I had no time to think about Knight, Poppy, or even Val. Jefferson shadowed my every move, acting as my voice.

  Three hours into the event, we had already managed to send twelve dogs home with their new families. I peeked at Beth and Eugene, who were laughing with their friends in the corner of the room. They looked relaxed and happy. Between Poppy and the other volunteers, we had it on lock.

  Knight never left Poppy’s side. He texted on his phone with a gloomy scowl. Every time he looked up and our eyes met, I turned around and struck up a conversation with Jefferson.

  “So. You and Knight,” Jefferson said when we were closing up.

  He picked up Goldie, a golden retriever pup, letting her lick every inch of his face. I laughed at Goldie’s eagerness.

  “There’s no me and Knight.”

  “You should tell that to his eyes. They’ve been putting extra time in on following you everywhere today.”

  “He has a girlfriend.” I shrugged.

  “Poppy deserves better.”

  I couldn’t argue with that. I plucked Goldie from his embrace, rubbing my nose against her fur. Jefferson continued staring at me with an intensity I was too inexperienced to decode. He leaned forward so we were hunched together behind the register. He’d just opened his mouth when Knight appeared in front of us, rapping the counter with his knuckles.

  “A word,” he hissed my way.

  I tore my gaze from Jefferson, playing dumb.

  “I don’t talk.”

  “To me you do.”

  “Think again.”

  “Don’t make me embarrass you, Moonshine.” He smiled impatiently. “Because I will. And make a damn good show of it.”

  “I hate you.”

  “Good. It will make our conversation much easier, and we’ll be on the same page so you can return to Ken over here.”

  “You’re a delight,” Jefferson observed.

  Knight shot him one of his football-hero smirks that seemed to dismantle ticking bombs. “And you’re in my fucking way.” His gaze shot back to me. “Now.”

  I knew Knight would make the rest of the evening hell for Jefferson, Poppy, and me if I didn’t oblige, and we still had to help clean up the place.

  Reluctantly, I slid from behind the register and joined Knight outside on the sidewalk. Main Street was buzzing with shoppers, bright lights, and the dense scent of fresh winter air, cocoa, coffee, and baked goods. My mouth would’ve watered if I wasn’t so furious.

  “What the hell was that?” I jerked my thumb behind us as Knight slacked against the wall, squeezing his eyes shut.

  He looked worn out. Frustrated. Exhausted. If he was so distraught, why didn’t he break up with Poppy? Why did he keep this charade going?

  “I can’t,” he said simply. “I can’t fucking look at you anymore. It’s wrong. I know. It’s hypocritical. Hell, I know that, too. You owe me nothing, but you slept with someone else, and it’s the only thing I can think about when I look at your face, no matter how much I want to see anything but that.”

  He turned his body fully toward me, opening his eyes. I watched as they hardened as he arranged his indecipherable mask. The one I couldn’t get through, even before Josh.

  “Screwing FUCKING JOSH. Kissing Vaughn. Flirting with Ken. You’ve really become quite a hussy, haven’t you, Luna?”

  “Jealous?” I smiled sweetly, folding my arms over my chest.

  Inside, I was fuming. How dare he. How dare he parade his gorgeous girlfriend around while giving me grief. How dare he belittle me. And how dare he slut-shame me when he was the very person who used to raise riots when people said words like slut and hussy around him.

  “Jealous? Why would I be jealous? Guy’s a vegan. He probably doesn’t even have the energy to fuck you. Ken here is no competition for me, and we both know it.”

  “Tell that to your girlfriend,” I murmured, and we twisted to watch Jefferson and Poppy through the display window of the shelter.

  They were huddled in the corner of the room, Poppy showing him something on her phone. She laughed and swatted his chest. Once again, I realized I couldn’t dislike her, even if I tried. Her only sin was being interested in the same guy I was in love with.

  Knight looked back at me, jutting his chin out.

  “Nice comeback. You open that mouth for FUCKING JOSH, too?”

  His words burned hot with lust; they were sweet poison, glossed over an apple I knew better than to bite.

  He was picking a fight again. I locked my jaw and narrowed my eyes at him. He’d never been this cruel to me before. I got that he was hurt, but he had no right.

  “Not to talk, of course. You’re too precious for talking, aren’t you, Luna? But maybe to suck his dick?” Knight cocked his head sideways, his eyes dead. “C’mon, Luna, is that what it is? You tasted dick and realized how good it is, and now you can’t get enough?”

  I turned around and started for my bike, dashing down the road. He grabbed my arm and spun me around.

  “Let go, or I’ll slap you again.”

  “I’ll take your wrath over your indifference,” he deadpanned, unblinking.

  “I’m not giving you a choice.”

  “Would people stop saying that? There’s always a fucking choice.” He threw his head back, laughing manically.

  “Are you drunk?” I scrunched my nose.

  “No,” he shot automatically.

  “You seem drunk.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “When you’re drunk, you’re mean.”

  He was spiraling again. And I was talking to him. Again. Because I didn’t know how to stop. I didn’t know how to cut him out o
f my life, even when he cut me so deep.

  “You can’t half-ass a relationship, Knight. Either you’re in or you’re not. You’re with Poppy now, but you treat her like crap. Every time I’m in the room, you put your relationship with her on the back burner. You don’t let me move on without faulting me for talking, or flirting, or kissing other guys. Guess what? I can. More than that, I will. We had our chance, and we blew it. My fault. Your fault. Does it really matter now?” I spoke quickly, breathlessly, my chest rising and falling rapidly. “I will meet someone else. I will sleep with someone else. I will love someone el—”

  He cut me off with a searing kiss, slamming my back against the wall in the process. Lacing his fingers through mine, he pinned my hands to the wall beside my waist, caging me in. I growled, knowing we were somewhere public, doing something wrong.

  He has a girlfriend. Break the kiss, Luna. Now.

  “That’s where you’re wrong.” His tongue ring swirled across my lips teasingly, his kiss hot and incredibly deep as he thrust his tongue into my mouth again. “There will be no one else, Moonshine. I will never let you get over me.”

  He took my jaw between his fingers, and I had a moment of epiphany, very similar to the one I’d had when he’d saved me from the car crash.

  Knight was not a good guy.

  He wasn’t even a decent one. But he’d been my protector. My savior. My guardian angel. Now that he’d quit that role, all bets were off. The precious prize became the prey. My halo was broken. My free passes—no longer free.

  “I really do hate y—” I started.

  “You already mentioned. Let me assure you: I don’t give a fuck.”

  With that, he crashed his lips against mine again. This time, I wrapped my arms around his neck, exploring his delicious mouth, his furious lips, his tongue and the barbell in it—the way he whirled it inside my mouth, devouring me with an urgency I didn’t know someone so cool was even capable of.

  Trailing his tongue ring from my mouth to my neck, leaving tingly shivers of desire in his wake, he whispered, “I will make you so fucking wet for me, Luna. So fucking ready. And. I. Will. Never. Fuck. You. Never give you what you want.”

  My eyes bugged in shock at the same time I heard Poppy’s voice piercing through the foggy cloud of lust surrounding us.

  “Knight?” Her posh accent sounded frayed.

  Like if you pulled more words out of her mouth, they’d come out in one thread. She stood there, the evening light twinkling behind her in a gorgeous backdrop, in her sensible navy dress and her Wizard of Oz strappy shoes, unshed tears brimming in her eyes. She looked about as ready to work hard at the shelter as I looked ready to be a KKK poster child.

  I cupped my mouth. I didn’t trust myself not to apologize aloud.

  You did this, Luna, I wanted to cry. It is because of you she feels this way.

  Knight stared ahead, like she was a wall he had to bulldoze through. Jefferson came out of the shelter. He stuffed his hands into his jacket’s pockets, looking between all of us. I was still caged between Knight’s arms. Jefferson put his hand on Poppy’s shoulder. I couldn’t help but notice the disappointment in his eyes when he looked at me.

  “How’d you get here?” he asked her.

  Rather than answering and risking an outburst, Poppy tilted her chin in Knight’s direction.

  “Let me take you home.”

  Her gaze lingered on Knight one more moment before she shook her head. They turned around just in time for me to gather my wits, slip from between Knight’s arms, and run to my bike. I didn’t even care that I was running again. That he was chasing me. That Beth and Eugene still needed help. Anything to get away from my angel turned devil. I unchained my bike, flung a leg over it, and sped back to my house. I heard cars honking and Knight cursing behind me, but I dared not look back. This time, neither of us was going to save the other.

  This time, we were on our own.

  “Are you going to let it ring for eternity?” Mom looked up from watching Fried Green Tomatoes.

  The shit I endured in the name of my love for her was on another level. I was ninety-nine percent sure if she hadn’t been so sick, I’d have bathed in hot lava before I’d watch an angsty chick flick.

  “That’s the plan.” I sent the phone call to voicemail for the fifth time.

  Mom frowned. “Texas area code? Who do you know in Texas?”

  “Probably a college thingy.” I kissed her forehead, motioning to the screen. “Look, you’re missing your favorite part, where he tells her he’s not really there for the barbecue, but because he thinks she’s a shithead.”

  “You want to go to an out-of-state college?” she persisted, eyeing me carefully. “Because you know you can, right?”

  “Mom, drop it.”

  “Knight,” she warned.

  I rolled my eyes and stood up, advancing to my room. She was in a probing mood, and I wasn’t in the business of denying my mother anything, especially when she’d spent the past week throwing up mucus, retching all night. Dad had put pillows all around their bathroom floor, and they sat there all night, every night. I heard them talk and laugh and whisper. Whenever she felt good enough, anyway.

  In the mornings, when her massage therapist arrived, Dad would disappear to one of the spare rooms downstairs, his eyes bloodshot. Earlier, I’d followed him into his study silently. I’d found him bracing his desk from the other side, his back quivering as sobs rippled through his body. My dad. The mighty Dean Cole. Crying.

  Not that there was anything wrong with that, but it was another stepping stone in our demise as a family.

  The Cole men didn’t cry.

  Not when they lost their mothers. Their wives. The quiet, gorgeous loves of their lives.

  Things were changing, and I didn’t know how to stop them. Luna was living elsewhere, and no longer mine. She was speaking. She had friends. Boyfriends. Mom was dying. Really dying. Dad was consumed by it. He could barely look at Levy and me. Whether he felt guilty or just generally pissed was beside the issue.

  “Don’t run away from the conversation.” Mom coughed.

  The doorbell rang. I gestured in its general direction.

  “That would be Poppy,” I said.

  It was the first time I’d been glad she’d stopped by.

  “You guys are going strong.” Mom’s face melted instantly.

  She wanted me to be happy. To be in love. I was one of these things, for sure. But happiness wasn’t a part of the package deal.

  “’Suppose.”

  “She seems very smitten with you.”

  That word again.

  “Are you happy with her?” Mom’s eyes clung to my face, begging for crumbs of truth.

  “Sure.”

  “You’ve never had a girlfriend.”

  “I’ve had plenty of girlfriends.”

  “No one serious.”

  “I’m not a serious guy.”

  “You’re the most serious guy I know, Knight Jameson Cole.”

  My phone rang again. Texas. Motherfucker. I killed the call, then sent Dixie a string of middle-finger emojis before tucking the device into my back pocket.

  “Better answer the door before Poppy gives me the third degree.” I smiled apologetically.

  I took Poppy to the front porch. I wasn’t in the mood for sitting in my room. Maybe I subconsciously wanted Luna to see us, but she had drawn her curtains and made sure I couldn’t peek into her room. Not that I was looking.

  Okay, I was looking. Sue me.

  God, why her? Why couldn’t I fall in love with the nice English chick who actually wore dresses and talked all the time?

  Poppy and I sat on white rocking chairs overlooking the cul-de-sac, me drinking Gatorade to nurse hangover number five hundred for the week, her cradling a glass of orange juice.

  “How’s your mum feeling?” she asked, staring at the yellow liquid swimming in her glass.

  She’d brought over homemade cookies, which my mother gushed
over and took a bite of, even though her appetite was shitty nowadays. Poppy, for all intents and purposes, was perfect. Only problem was, she wasn’t perfect for me.

  I shrugged, still staring at the street.

  The street where I’d played with Luna.

  Where I’d kissed her on the steps of her house.

  Where I’d tugged at her braids.

  Thrown water bombs at her.

  Run around, laughing, when she’d thrown water bombs at me.

  Where we’d drawn with chalk on the cobblestones, bounced on hippity hop, and fell asleep on her front lawn, our heads touching, as we’d waited for the fireworks to explode every Fourth of July.

  Then I thought about how I’d treated her. Taunted her. Kissed her. Belittled her.

  I couldn’t stop myself from doing any of those things, even when I wanted to. Desperately. The more my mother weakened, the more I drank. The more I drank, the more mean Knight came out. It was a vicious cycle. I knew there was only so much Luna would suffer before she flipped on my ass. She was a proud girl.

  “I don’t want to talk about my mother,” I said frankly.

  “Obviously.” Poppy slapped her forehead. “Sorry. Can we talk about what happened yesterday? About us?”

  There is no us.

  “Okay.”

  “That thing with Luna…”

  “Luna and I are unfinished business.” I bit on the tip of my tongue ring, slicing into her speech. “We’ll always be unfinished business. Now. In five years. When we’re eighty. That’s the deal; it’s always been the deal. You knew it. You saw us up until senior year. We were always together.”

  That was Poppy’s in to break up with me. I’d handle it with grace. I’d still take her to prom. But there was no reason to keep up with this bullshit.

  “I get that.” She swallowed hard. “Let’s try again. I’m willing to give you another chance. If you want it, that is.”

  I don’t.

  I spun toward her, studying her face: the soft planes of her cheeks, her carefully brushed hair, flawless little Neiman Marcus dress. She could be someone else’s Luna, someone else’s everything. A guy like Jefferson, maybe.