I snort. “You’d last about five minutes in a gated community before being banned for brooding too loudly.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Brooding?”
I gesture vaguely at him. “You’ve got a whole mood going. Very wilderness monk meets Michelin star.”
That gets the corner of his mouth to twitch again. “You forgot emotionally unavailable.”
“Oh, I assumed that was implied,” I shoot back.
He laughs. A real one. Low and rough and entirely unfair to my nervous system. “You always like this?”
“Charming? Yes. A little mouthy? Also yes. But I’ve been known to scale it back for… I don’t know, royalty or tax auditors.”
He nods solemnly. “Good. Because I have the IRS coming by later.”
I grin, leaning back into the couch like I belong there, like this isn’t the most surreal Thursday night of my life.
Outside, the sky’s gone full indigo. Stars spill over the treetops. The fire crackles softly between us, and the scent of pine smoke curls through the air like a lullaby.
He watches me for a second, then lifts his glass. “So what about you?” he asks. “I’m sure you didn’t mention that you live here when I first met you.”
I chuckle. “Yeah, just like you made out you werepassing through.”
He cocks a knowing eyebrow. “Touché.”
I shrug, considering. “Honestly? I love it here. Even when I went to Chicago for culinary school, I knew I’d want to come back.”
Knox tilts his head. “You love your hometown then?”
“I do,” I admit. “I have my family here. My mom, my sister…”
There’s a pause.
“That’s really nice.”
Knox goes quiet for a second. Not the awkward kind, just... still. Like he’s weighing everything behind those glacier eyes of his.
I give him space. Take another slow sip. Wait.
Then he says, “My family’s not really in the picture anymore.”
Soft. Simple. But there’s weight behind it. Like it’s not the first time he’s said it, but it still costs him.
I glance at him, trying not to pry but also not letting it float away. “Not in the picture like... out of state? Or out of orbit?”
A flicker of amusement. Then gone.
“My dad bounced when I was a kid. Mom did her best, but she was dealing with her own stuff. Addiction mostly. She got clean when I was already out of the house, and signed with Michigan. We talk now, sometimes. But it’s light. Holiday cards. A few texts.”
“I’m sorry,” I say quietly.
He shrugs like it doesn’t matter, but it’s the kind of shrug that means it absolutely does. “It’s fine. Football was my family for a long time. Coaches, teammates, agents. Even the rivals. It was loud and structured and made sense. You knew where to be, what to do, who had your back.”
“And then?”
His eyes drop to his glass. “Then my knee exploded.”
There’s a short silence. Not heavy, just waiting.
