I lean against the wall, catching my breath, legs still shaky. My panties are somewhere on the floor. My hair is a mess. I can still feel the imprint of his mouth, wet and aching. And I'm smiling so hard my face hurts.
When I emerge, panties retrieved, hair smoothed, face flushed, Ruby takes one look and cackles.
"Supply closet, huh? Classy."
Frankie doesn't look up from her drink. "At least it wasn't the bathroom this time."
Candace grins. Darla raises her glass in a silent salute. I drop onto the couch, cheeks burning. Knox is across the room with the guys, arms crossed, completely unbothered. But when his eyes find mine, there's heat. A promise. Later.
Ruby leans in close. "You have beard burn on your neck."
I clap a hand over my throat. "I do not—"
"You absolutely do," Frankie says, finally looking up. "And your lips are swollen."
"Scandalous," Candace adds, delighted.
I glare at all of them, but I can't stop the smile. Because this, this chaos, this laughter, this reckless joy, is mine. For the first time in my life, I'm not afraid to claim it.
We leave together when the night has thinned around the edges, streetlights spilling long shadows over the pavement. Knox settles my helmet over my head, fingers careful at my jaw.
"All clear?" I ask, eyeing the bike.
He gives me a long look. "With you around? Doubtful." Then he swings over and crooks two fingers. "On, wife."
I climb on behind him. The engine roars to life. Wind grabs my hair as we pull out, the night opening up in a blur of streetlights and shadows.
I curl closer, fingers fisting in his shirt, breathing him in. For a while, there's nothing but the road, his solid weight, and the steady thud of his heart under my palm.
The engine dies in the driveway. I slide off, hand finding his shoulder for balance. He follows, tucking the helmets under his arm.
We walk in shoulder to shoulder. Knox slows just over the threshold, scanning corners as though he expects a clown ambush.
I step around him with a snort. "No balloons. No clowns."
"Yet," he mutters. "You miss your little terror projects already?" he asks, eyes glinting.
I lift a brow. "Maybe I like seeing you rattled. Reminds me you're human."
He steps in, palms finding my hips, pulling me against him. Mouth at my ear, breath hot. "Oh, I'm very fucking human. You want another scare, sweetheart? Turn off the lights and get on the bed. I'll give you something to scream about."
I shove at his chest lightly. "We're not destroying the bed again. I like that bed."
He smirks. "Couch, then."
We end up tangled on it, some dumb action movie playing in the background. My feet in his lap, ankles cradled in his hands. He kneads steady circles into the arch of my foot, eyes on the TV but attention half on the way my body melts with each touch.
I lean my head back and let my thoughts drift. The girls laughing in Frankie's shop. Candace standing tall in that hallway after Chuck. Darla wrapped in East's sweatshirt, bruised but safe. Ruby plotting chaos with a sparkle instead of fear. Frankie's steady hands. Maggie's quiet ferocity.
Knox, letting me prank him and still choosing to sit here with his hands on me like I'm not a ticking bomb. Maybe, just maybe, if the truth ever detonates, they won't run. Maybe this wild, ridiculous, haunted little family will plant their feet and stay.
My eyelids grow heavy. Knox shifts, tugging gently at my hand. "C'mere," he murmurs.
I let him pull me sideways until I'm tucked against his chest, cheek settling over his heart. His arm comes around automatically, hand settling on my thigh. It belongs there. I fall asleep like that. Curled into him, his scent in my nose, his heartbeat a drum under my ear.
Chapter 23
Knox
