But, as I realized my tears had stopped flowing and my stomach had eased up just a bit on the tightness and nausea that had been building all morning, I wondered if it would be worth it anyway. Is this what I wanted?
Keys jingled in the lock, and I tensed right back up, feeling like a statue as I froze.
Jackson’s little face peeked out from behind the kitchen island, where I knew his food bowl was tucked into the little cat corner by the pantry—Knox had hated it because he hit Jackson’s tower every time he opened the last pantry door to get to my flour and baking ingredients that I’d used twice last year.
The door swung open, and I waited for my Dad’s booming voice. I twisted my hands in my lap, even as I tried to pretend not to exist.
“Lucy?”
I spun around, too shocked to care that I looked like a mess, sat on the floor amidst a pile of paint and splinters, with tear tracks down my face and my hair askew.
Knox was in my apartment.
He was hovering, tucking his keys into his pocket—he must have kept the spare—and tilting his head.
His eyes darted over my face, concern evident and downright confusing to me after last night. Why would he be worried about me? Why was he here?
His gaze moved over my head to the mess. Then his expression hardened, his eyes blazing with anger.
“What the hell happened?”
He moved with purposeful strides until he was right in front of me.
He took my hands, and I scrambled to my feet in front of him, too awed to speak coherently.
“Lucy, you have to talk to me.” Knox’s voice was like a warm hug, but I could still hear his worry. “I’m so sorry about last night. I needed to see you. Are you–what happened?”
He squeezed my hands, and the tears came back with vigor. “You’re here.”
It was barely more than a whisper, but it seemed to devastate Knox. His expression crumpled, and he tugged me against his chest, strong arms wrapping me in a tight embrace.
“I know. I am so sorry, Lucy.”
I was shaking, I knew, but I melted into his embrace anyway. I tucked my face into his chest and took his shirt between my fingers in a firm grasp.
“You’re here,” I repeated. “You came back.”
“Of course I did. I was such an idiot to just leave you here.” Knox pressed a kiss to my temple, uncaring of the mess I was.
But eventually, he pulled away. He held me at arm’s length and looked me over with a stern expression that inspired none of the fear I’d felt just hours ago when my dad’s eyes had sparked.
“Are you hurt?”
I shook my head. “I’m fine.”
“I hate that word.” Knox’s jaw clenched. “Are you hurt, yes or no?”
“Not really.”
Knox groaned. “Lucy, I swear to god.”
I grasped his hands when his grip loosened, a desperation filling me at the thought of him leaving again. “Sorry!” I took a breath. “I, uh, there might be some glass in my leg. The lamp broke, and I didn’t clean it up before I sat down.”
Fell down was more accurate, but he didn’t need to know that.
Knox frowned and glanced down at my legs.
“Okay. Let’s get you changed while you tell me about what in the hell happened here.”
