What else... What am I missing?
“What about her phone?”
“The police wouldn’t share the information, but Mom has police officers on her payroll, and she said they told her it showed up nothing.”
Frustration builds up inside of me. “What about Iris? Have you seen her around? Mom said she’s going to be at the vigil.”
He shakes his head. “No.”
Even with everything, there’s a sliver of hope inside of me to find something out about Misty’s disappearance while I’m home.
“I want to have a chat with Iris—since she was the last one to see Misty. Hopefully, Mom can give me Iris’s phone number.”
“I’m going to be looking into Misty’s case as well,” says Knox with a determined look in his eyes.
We are desperate for answers... clinging to finding even a snippet of information that we don’t already know.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Yeah, okay...” he replies slowly.
“What are your scars from?” There’s no judgment, just sadness.
“It’s shrapnel wounds from a bomb that exploded.”
I nod and swallow thickly. I turn and roll over before I do something stupid like touch him or kiss him. “Good night,” I say as I shuffle toward the edge of the bed.
A slow,sleepy smile spreads across my face as Knox plays with my hair. I press my lips together, trying not to moan. I sit up next to him and let my eyes travel down his body. Even though my lids are heavy with sleep, my gaze remains on his scars. I reach out and touch his muscular shoulder. His skin’s warm as I trace a round, silky scar.
His eyes are closed, and his breaths quicken as my fingers travel from the scar on his shoulder and make their way over the hard planes of his chest. His body shudders as I move down to the top of his abs, where I trace a jagged scar.
My fingernails dig in as they graze over each ab until they reach a light trail of hair that starts from his belly button. I follow it further down to his boxer shorts. When my fingers creep in at the top, stretching the material, he grabs my wrist and stares at me intently.
“Are you sure you want this?”
I blink a few times, then whip my hand away and shuffle backward until my back meets the headboard. “I’m sorry.”
Even in my sleepy state, I crave him. His deep frown slices my heart. My cheeks heat as my stomach sinks.
“I’m sorry,” I repeat.
He bows his head, then stands and opens the wardrobe. He grabs a pair of dark-blue denim jeans and a white shirt and walks out of the room. I’m left sitting there, rubbing my chest where it aches. I hate seeing the anguish on his face, the tension in his body. I’m doing exactly what I used to do. I’m hurting himagainjust by being here.
I’m being pulled in two directions, one part lust, the other wariness. I want him to hold me... The other part of me is terrified that I’m opening myself up to heartbreak, and I can’t go back to that dark place... not again. There’s a light knock on the door, so I hastily wipe my eyes, then pull the comforter up to my shoulders. “Come in.”
No one comes in, but I hear a soft voice. “I don’t want to intrude. I wanted to let you know breakfast is ready.”
A small smile touches my lips. “Thank you, Ava.”
“It’s pancakes.” Her voice brightens, like she’s trying to convince me with food to come down.
I sigh, knowing Knox will have a meltdown if I wear my pajamas. I shuffle toward the edge, then stand and slide into Knox’s sweatshirt. I go to the door and open it. Ava smiles at me and claps twice.
“Where are you going?” Knox’s voice carries through the hallway, startling Ava and me.
I turn to him and narrow my eyes. He never used to be this abrupt.
“I’m going downstairs for breakfast.”
