On TV, Moana is figuring out who she's meant to be. Finding her way back to herself after everything fell apart.
I pull the blankets over my head and try not to cry again.
I mostly succeed.
Chapter 14
Knox
I can't sleep.
It's been two days. Two days since Toby walked out. Two days since Robin slapped me and told me to stay away. Two days since Jason came back from Toby's apartment with a message that's been rattling around my skull ever since.
The marks are fading.
I know what that means. Every hour that passes, every day, my claim on him is disappearing. The bruises yellowing, the scratches healing, my scent washing away until there's nothing left. Until he's blank again. Unmarked. Like I never touched him at all.
Except for the bite. The one on his shoulder, the deep one, the one I said would scar.
I don't know if he wants that scar anymore.
The bar is loud tonight. Vaughn and Ezra are playing pool, trash-talking each other the way they always do. Silas is in the corner booth with a book, though I notice he hasn't turned a page in twenty minutes. Jason's behind the bar, restocking glasses and eating fries from the basket he made for himself. The TV's playing some game—baseball, maybe, or basketball. I'm not paying attention.
I'm sitting at the end of the bar, not drinking, not talking, just existing. Taking up space because my apartment feels like a tomb and at least down here there's noise.
"You should eat something," Jason says, sliding the basket of fries toward me.
I don't respond.
"Knox." He pushes the basket closer. "You haven't eaten all day. I can hear your stomach from here."
"Not hungry."
"Bullshit. You're starving yourself because you feel guilty, and that's not going to help anyone."
I look at him. He holds my gaze for about three seconds before looking away.
"Fine," he mutters. "Don't eat. See if I care."
He cares. They all care. That's the problem—they keep hovering, keep watching me like I'm going to shatter, keep trying to help when there's nothing they can do. I fucked this up. Me. And no amount of fries or pool games or background noise is going to fix it.
"I'm going for a ride," I say, standing.
Vaughn looks up from the pool table. "Want company? I could use some air."
"No."
"Knox—"
"I want to go alone."
They exchange looks. The kind of looks that sayshould we let him?andis he okay?andwhat if he does something stupid?I can practically hear the silent conversation happening over my head.
"I'm fine," I say, even though I'm not. Even though fine is so far from what I am that the word feels like a lie in my mouth. "I just need to clear my head."
"It's almost midnight," Ezra points out.
"So?"
