by Kendall Ryan
If I’d just been selfless enough that Sunday morning and put my own needs aside, I would have gone with my parents. They wouldn’t have left late, and they’d still be alive. But they weren’t, which was why I worked so hard to make amends for their deaths. It couldn’t be all for nothing.
Glancing at nearby passengers, I brushed at my cheeks, wiping away a few tears that had sneaked past my defenses. I took a few deep breaths, willing myself to think about something different, and clasped the journal tightly on my lap.
The journal. I hadn’t intended to look inside Knox’s notebook, but the boring bus ride, a desperate need to avoid my own depressing thoughts, and my overwhelming curiosity were a lethal combination, and within seconds my fingers were itching to open its pages. I glanced around again at the passengers around me, like they’d somehow know I was snooping. But of course no one was paying me any attention. I took a deep breath and unthreaded the little leather tie securing the book, then opened the book slowly, as if it held a great secret that I wanted to savor.
Inside the pages was anything but what I expected. Outside it looked like a journal, but there were no journal entries. Just sketch after sketch of the same woman. She was incredibly lifelike and beautiful with long dark hair curled in soft tendrils around her shoulders, wide yet sad eyes, and a graceful neck that led to a delicate collarbone. The simple pencil sketches with smudges of gray and black against the stark whiteness of the page gave the drawings a gritty, realistic feeling.
I could almost see Knox bent over this notebook, pencil in hand, a furrow of concentration slashed between his eyebrows. I wondered who the woman was. A former lover? His girlfriend? For the first time, I wondered about the man beyond his sexual addiction. I knew from my training that a sexual addition was often masking some other issue. With Knox, I had no idea what that might be. He seemed healthy and in control. But perhaps that was just a mask he put on.
I was so engrossed in the sketches that when the bus rolled to a stop, I barely noticed. Startled by other passengers rising and exiting the bus, I quickly wrapped the notebook with its leather ties and joined them when I realized it was my stop.
Huddling into my jacket for warmth, I walked through the neighborhood, noting the older homes, likely built in the early 1900s. Most were in need of a fresh coat of paint, and some needed a whole lot more—new windows, a replacement roof, or even a bulldozer.
When I found the house that bore his address, I stopped and looked up at the three-story home to see peeling pale yellow paint, a slanted front porch, and a heavy wooden door. It should have looked cold and uninviting, but some unspecified characteristic gave it charm. It felt homey and inviting, even if it was a strange home for a guy who appeared to be in his early twenties. Maybe he shared the big space with several roommates.
Clutching the leather-bound notebook in my hands, I climbed up the front steps and knocked on the door. Voices sounded from inside, but no one came. I waited several long moments and knocked again, more firmly this time.
A young boy with messy dark hair answered the door. “Hi,” he said simply, his smile revealing two missing front teeth.
“Hi. Um, is Knox here?” I asked uncertainly, all traces of confidence vanishing.
“Uh-huh.” He turned from the front door, leaving it wide open, presumably for me to follow him inside. With my heart slamming nervously into my ribs, I crossed the threshold and followed the little boy, sensing that everything I thought I knew was about to be challenged.
The scene in front of me took a moment to process. Knox was holding a baby girl in his arms and two teenage boys were wrestling on the living room couch. With all the commotion, they’d yet to notice me.
Knox looked completely at ease with the baby resting in his strong arms, and she was happily engrossed watching the wrestling match, blowing bubbles and cooing at the sight. I took all this in within a matter of seconds, trying to place what exactly I was seeing.
All three boys looked like mini versions of Knox. Dark hair, soulful caramel-colored eyes, and all of them were tall. Even the little boy who’d answered the door nearly reached my height of five foot two. But the baby had me baffled. She had light golden-blonde hair that hung in tiny ringlets around her face and big bright blue eyes.
Knox and the other guys still hadn’t noticed me, and the little boy who’d answered the door had busied himself with a giant pile of Legos in the center of the living room floor, while the others continued arguing. I took the opportunity to glance around at the rooms around me. The house was decorated with mismatched furnishings that had seen better days. But it was cozy and fairly neat. A large blue couch sat atop a woven brown rug and was flanked by wooden end tables scattered with papers and a baby bottle. A set of shelves held an array of toys and books, and straight ahead I could see the kitchen and dining room, along with a set of stairs that went off to my right. The home felt lived-in, not at all like my cramped, industrial-feeling apartment where everything was beige.
“Luke, Jaxon, cool it, would you? Grab me a diaper and some wipes,” Knox said, hoisting the baby up higher in his grasp.
“Oh fuck. Do you smell that?” The taller of the two boys rose to his feet, sniffing the air. “We’ve got a code green!”
“Don’t curse around Bailee, you dipshit.” The slightly shorter boy rose from the couch and shoved the other in the shoulder.
I cleared my throat and four sets of expressive brown eyes swung over to mine.
“McKenna?” Knox asked, his eyebrows rising. “What are you doing here?”
A bundle of nerves rose in my stomach and lodged in my throat. The grand plan I’d hatched about coming here to face him suddenly felt immature and idiotic. He had his own life and responsibilities, and here I was tracking him down like a schoolgirl with a crush.
“I—” My voice squeaked and I started again. “I just wanted to apologize for earlier.” I held up his notebook. “And return this to you.”
His eyes searched mine and his face softened. The little girl in his arms let out a short cry, pulling our gazes apart. “It’s okay, baby girl.” He bounced the little thing on his hip to quiet her like he’d done it a million times before.
“These are my brothers. Tucker.” He pointed to the little boy on the floor. “Jaxon and Luke.” Jaxon was the next tallest after Knox, probably six feet and had longish hair that hung in his eyes, and Luke was just a fraction shorter. “And this is Bailee.” He looked down at the little girl in his arms, but offered no further explanation.
“Guys, will one of you change Bailee so McKenna and I can go talk?”
“Hi, I’m Luke.” The shorter boy offered me his hand and I shook it. His entire hand closed around mine. I’d guess that he and Jaxon were both in high school, and I also guessed with their thick hair and gorgeous eyes fringed in dark lashes, they were both popular with the girls. Just like their older brother.
“Hi, Luke. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Who are you?” Jaxon asked, his mouth in a crooked grin as he looked me up and down.
“I’m a…friend of your brother’s.”
“Knox doesn’t have friends who are girls,” he challenged.
My mouth hung open. I was clueless about how to respond.
Knox stepped between us. “Enough, guys. Go take care of Bailee.” After handing the baby off to Luke, Knox turned to fully face me. I took in his chest-hugging thermal tee, dark denim, and bare feet. It was a side of him I wouldn’t have guessed at. Softer, paternal. It made my stomach tighten. I was used to things in my life being neat and orderly; I liked knowing what to expect. Knox challenged everything I thought I knew, and left me wanting to piece it all together.
“Join me in the kitchen?” he asked.
“Sure.” I waited for him to lead the way. I should have felt intimidated around him, with his broad shoulders and height, but I didn’t. Seeing him around his brothers made me feel completely comfortable.
His jaw tensed as he noticed the boys still w
atching us. “On second thought, there’s too many little ears down here. Are you okay if we go upstairs?” His dark honey eyes latched on to mine and I was rendered speechless. Join him in his bedroom? I should probably say no. But my head bobbed up and down in a nod.
Knox motioned me in front of him and I started up the stairs.
I could feel his hot gaze on my backside the entire way up the stairs. I wanted to spin around and catch him looking, but then what would I say? Like what you see? I wasn’t that brazen, so I continued climbing while my body heated under his stare that I could feel all the way to my core.
When we reached the second floor, his hand went to my lower back with a feather-light touch to silently guide me, indicating that I should continue up the third flight of stairs to the attic. From the way his fingertips lightly raked against my spine, I could tell he knew his way around a woman’s body. The thought both excited and frustrated me. How many women had he led up these stairs in the exact same manner?
I desperately needed to keep my perspective about why I was here. To help him as a member of my group. That was all. Right, McKenna, that’s why you haven’t stopped thinking about him once…and bussed it across the city just to return a notebook.
When we reached the third floor, the wooden planks creaked as I crossed the large bedroom, light streaming in on both sides from dormer windows set deeply into the vaulted ceiling. His bedroom was set up more like a mini apartment, with a sofa and TV on one side of the room, and queen-sized bed at the far end where the ceilings pitched their lowest.
I couldn’t help but notice the half-empty bottle of whiskey on his bedside table, and the hole punched through the wall a few feet from his bed. A pang of unease about being up here alone with him sliced right through my middle. I didn’t know him. Not at all. Yet here I was, alone in his bedroom. I’d never been so reckless and inquisitive, but something about Knox’s quiet intensity pushed me outside my comfort zone. I wanted to learn everything there was to know about this troubled, beautiful man.
He motioned me over to the sofa and I sat down, my back straight as an arrow with the notebook resting in my lap. I wondered if his bedroom was where Knox took his conquests. I knew the darker side of this addiction and the impulsive behaviors that drove people to sex in public restrooms, alleyways, backseats of cars, and all sorts of strange places. But I didn’t like the idea that Knox’s attic bedroom, where I currently sat with him, might also be the place he lost himself in other women.
“Relax, McKenna,” he whispered and smiled before sitting down across from me in an old leather armchair.
I released a silent exhale and handed him the notebook. “You left this.”
He took it from my hands, his thumb brushing mine and sending a small thrill up my arm. “Thanks.” He waited, silently watching me, like he knew if he just waited me out, I would explain what I was really doing here.
I took my time, looking around the room, from the gray sheets that were tangled on his bed to a little desk that sat in the corner, complete with a stack of unpaid bills. My unease about Knox, about his life obviously so very different from my own, ratcheted a little higher.
“Did you look inside?” he asked, looking down at the journal in his hands.
“No,” I blurted too quickly, my face flushing with heat. We both knew it was a hasty lie.
He untied the leather string fastened around the notebook and opened the pages to me, turning the book so I could see. He glanced up to watch my reaction, and I brought my hand to the open page, lightly tracing the shadows he’d captured so realistically under her wide eyes. She looked tired and so lifelike.
“You’re very talented,” I murmured. “She must be someone important to you.”
“My mother,” he confirmed.
I met his eyes and smiled. He clearly loved his mother to devote so many hours to sketching her likeness. He flipped through a few of the pages for me to see, and then set the book on the table between us. Again, he waited for me to fill the silence.
My curiosity was too much. “So, Bailee’s your…” I left him to fill in the blank.
“Neighbor’s daughter. We babysit her sometimes for Nikki while she works. Plus it’s probably good for her to have some male role models since her dad’s not in the picture.”
“Oh.”
Knox cracked a lopsided grin. “You thought she was mine?”
“I wasn’t sure. You seemed pretty comfortable with her.”
He shrugged. “I guess I am. I mean, I’m comfortable around kids. I have three younger brothers I helped raise. And Bailee’s here enough. She’s a pretty easy baby.”
“Except for that code green stuff?”
He shrugged. “It’s good for the guys to learn to change diapers and warm up bottles. It teaches them responsibility.”
“So you all live here…with your parents?” My voice rose on the question.
“Mom passed away seven years ago, and my dad took off with a waitress a few years after that. I have custody of the boys.”
“Oh.” Everything I thought I knew about Knox, the sex-addicted playboy, was lost in that instant. He was a man who worked hard and loved his family enough to step up and provide for them, putting his own dreams and goals aside. He was a real person, not just one of the bodies who filled a chair at my little group Saturday mornings. And now that I’d gotten a glimpse, I wanted to know more.
“So…” I looked around his room, my uncertainty about being here obvious. “This is your life.”
“This is it,” he confirmed. “Not what you expected?”
His raising his brothers and babysitting for a neighbor? No. Not at all. I glanced to his bedside table again, my eyes seeking the bottle of amber-colored liquor that sat there. I wondered what demons lurked just under the surface of his controlled demeanor. Why he needed the vices he did.
Perhaps we had more similarities than I realized. We were both on our own without our parents. Knox’s load of responsibility was heavier than mine, but my guilt over how I lost my parents might have made up for that deficit. We were each wise beyond our years, burdened with things at a young age. Maybe we recognized that in each other. Something to draw us together. Because I certainly felt drawn to him. More than anyone.
Annoyed, I gave myself a mental kick in the pants, forcing myself to remember I was here to help him, not to pry into every facet of his life.
“Why won’t you open up in group, Knox?” When he shrugged and made a non-committal noise in his throat, I pushed a little harder. “What are you afraid of?”
His gaze leapt to mine. “I’m not afraid. I’m just private. I don’t particularly want to air my dirty laundry in front of a bunch of strangers. Can you blame me?”
“That’s a very normal feeling. But most people find that once they cross that hurdle and open up, there’s a certain comfort in knowing there are others out there with the same struggles. You’re not alone, Knox. The first step is just admitting you have a problem.”
My little speech was met with silence while Knox looked deep in thought. “How about this…I’ll tell you some things that you want to know, if you’ll do the same.”
“You want to know about me?” I asked, surprise evident in my voice.
He shrugged. “Fair’s fair.”
If that would get him talking, I didn’t see any harm. “I’m game. Who starts?”
“I do.” Knox’s dark eyes searched mine, and I fought a little shiver that prickled the skin at the back of my neck. “How did you become a sex addict counselor? Do you have experience with addiction yourself?” Interest flickered in his gaze.
I chewed on my lip again. The story was nothing as dark or interesting as that. The truth was the grief counselor I began seeing in high school led me down this path.
“I went to school for counseling and after I graduated with my bachelor’s degree, I took a part-time position at a center for troubled teens here in the city. I had extra time, so I looked into what other opportunities
I could get involved in, and I got linked up with this lady Belinda. She leads SAA and became my mentor. Then after a while of sitting in with her groups, I got my own group.”
Sheesh, I was rambling, but something about the intent way Knox watched me while I spoke, looking between my mouth and my eyes, left me distracted and warm. I drew a deep breath, trying to clear my head. Knox was still watching me, waiting for me to ask him something. It was my turn.
“So…” I drew out the word, buying time. I could go for the obvious, asking him how he ended up with this addiction, but something told me not to push him. I wanted him to open up and feel comfortable, so I couldn’t interrogate him from the start. I liked talking to him and I wasn’t ready for it to end. “Tell me about your brothers,” I said at last.
Knox leaned back into the armchair, crossing one ankle over his knee. Gosh, he was so big, so male, that it was impossible not to notice how completely he filled the small space between us. My pulse jumped and quickened in response.
“Tucker’s eight and in the third grade. He’s a good kid, listens to his teachers, and keeps his room clean.” He released a heavy sigh. “He has an amazing capacity for love. He was so little when we lost her and when Dad took off, that I think he’s the least affected by it.”
Listening to him talk made me wonder what the little boy had been through. I couldn’t imagine losing my mom at such a tender age, and then having to watch my dad run off and abandon the family. My heart ached for him.
“Luke is seventeen and he’s a junior. He’s smart. Like smart-smart. He wants to go to college and he studies hard so he can qualify for a scholarship when the time comes. And Jaxon…” He shook his head. “Jaxon is too much like I was. He’s eighteen and will graduate in the spring. I thought I’d feel relieved once he turned eighteen, knowing that he could ensure the boys didn’t get split up if something ever happened to me…”
He hesitated, and something in his eyes made me sad. I could see how much he worried about them.
“I’m sure he’d step up if he needed to,” he went on. “But for now, he has no plan of what to do when he graduates, no job, no money, and he chases after girls just like I did at that age.”