His voice dropped low. “Is this about yesterday?”
Oh God.
He thought I was avoiding him because of the kiss. Because I regretted it. Because I’d changed my mind about him.
The kiss that had kept me awake for hours. The kiss I’d replayed a thousand times before Silas showed up and shattered everything.
“No,” I said quickly. Too quickly. “It’s not about that.”
“Then turn around.”
It wasn’t a request.
I took a breath. Straightened my spine. And turned.
But I kept my chin down, my hair strategically draped over my right cheek.
Knox stared at me. His head cocked slightly to the side, assessing. Those eyes tracked over my face like he was running diagnostics.
“You okay?”
I flicked a glance toward Dr. Mercer’s office. The door was closed, so we were essentially alone.
“I’m great.”
Knox arched one eyebrow. “Great?”
“I can’t be great?”
A small shrug rolled through his shoulders. “You’ve never said great before.”
“Well, there’s a first time for everything.”
“You don’t seem great.”
“Don’t I?”
He took a step toward me. Carefully. Like approaching a startled animal.
“If it’s not about yesterday,” he said quietly, “then what is it?”
“Nothing.”
“Liar.”
He was close now. Close enough that I could smell soap and something warmer beneath it. Close enough that when he reached out and brushed his knuckles against my arm, I felt the touch everywhere.
And despite everything, despite every screaming instinct telling me to pull away, to hide, to protect myself …
I leaned into it.
Just slightly. Just enough.
Knox’s attention dropped to where his hand rested against my arm, watching the way my body curved toward his touch instead of away from it.
“Okay,” he murmured. “So, it’s not the kiss.”
His thumb traced a slow circle against my sleeve.
