She laughed. High and bright, the sound of it hitting me somewhere deep in my soul. She shook her head, typing something into my chart. “I’ll be sure to note that your confidence is still intact.”
“I love seeing you smile,” I said.
Harper’s fingers stilled on the screen. After a few seconds, her attention drifted down to my face, those green eyes studying me.
“I like it too,” she said softly.
I glanced toward the door, where Officer Marks stood just outside. Close enough to intervene. Far enough to give us the illusion of privacy.
“Can we talk?” I kept my voice low.
Harper moved closer, placing her hand in mine.
“Squeeze.”
I squeezed. Three times.I. Love. You.
She squeezed back three times. “Good. Still a strong grip. That’s a good sign.” She tilted her head, her thumb brushing over my knuckles. “You got lucky, you know.”
“Trust me”—I held her gaze—“I know.”
The weight of my words landed exactly where I wanted them to. On her. On the thing growing between us that neither of us had the courage to name out loud until recently.
“Knox …”
“Harper, I want to talk about us.”
This was the conversation we’d been dancing around for two weeks. We’d kept things light. Full of banter. Full of discreet flirtation that made my blood heat and my chest ache in equal measure.
But my parole hearing was coming. And I needed her to understand.
The seriousness in my tone slowed her movements. She set the tablet down on the counter.
“At the hearing,” I said, “if things don’t go my way …”
“They will.”
“But if they don’t …”
“One day at a time.” She squeezed my hand again. “We’ll cross that bridge if we come to it.”
“Harper”—I sighed—“I won’t let you put your life on hold for me.”
“That’s not your decision to make.”
“It is.” I shifted, ignoring the pull in my ribs. “I’ve had a lot of time to think over the last couple of weeks. A lot of time to reflect on how I’ve been absent for my daughter. I won’t be absent for you too. If I can be there for you in a real, meaningful way, great. But if I can’t …”
“We’ve talked about this.”
“We talked about it when I was barely conscious and recovering from having my ribs caved in.”
She crossed her arms, but I caught the way her fingers trembled slightly. “I need to finish your exam.”
“I just want you to know …” I swallowed hard, my gaze flicking to the door. “I want you to know that you changed me, Harper. Forever.”
Her jaw tightened. “Don’t do that. Don’t start saying goodbye.”
I didn’t stop. Couldn’t. Just in case. “Before you came along, I didn’t have hope.” The words scraped out of me, rough and raw. “So, even if the hearing doesn’t go my way, I want you to know that you gave that back to me. Enough hope that maybe next year, it’ll work. Or the year after that. But no matter what, from now on, I’ll keep trying.”
