His fingers laced through mine, warm and rough and real. Careful. Gentle. The same hands that had carried me through fire now softened the moment they touched me.
“Well,” Knox said after a long moment, “that sucked.”
A startled laugh escaped me. “That’s your takeaway?That sucked?”
“I’m not wrong.”
“You have a fractured skull. And burns. Second-degree burns, Knox.”
“And it sucked.” He lifted our joined hands, pressed a kiss to my knuckles like the bandages on his arms were an afterthought. “You okay?”
“I’mokay? You’re asking ifI’mokay?”
“That’s what I said.”
“You ran into a burning building for me.”
“And I’d do it again tomorrow. You okay?”
I stared at him. This man. This impossible, stubborn,infuriatingman, who had just had his skull cracked and his skin burned and was lying in a hospital bed, was asking aboutmywell-being.
“I’m fine. Smoke inhalation. Some bruises.” I didn’t mention where. I didn’t have to. His gaze had already flickered to my throat and away, his jaw tightening briefly before he forced it to relax.
We lay there in silence for a moment, just holding hands, just breathing.
I thought about who I was just a few months ago. A woman running on fumes and fear. I’d convinced myself that survival was enough. That getting through each day without Silas finding me was a victory.
I wasn’t living. I was just … not dying yet.
And then Knox Blackwood walked into my infirmary with a split lip and silver-blue eyes that saw right through me.
Don’t judge a book by its cover. Isn’t that what they say?
Silas had been a correctional officer. A security guard back in Indiana before that. On paper, he was the man trusted to protect and serve. Yet he was the monster. And the tattooed inmate with blood on his hands and fourteen years behind bars?
He was my salvation.
“Faith and the others offered us the mansion,” I said. “Guest room with a bay window. Natural light. No prison bars.”
He exhaled slowly. “I like the sound of that.”
“Me too.”
Another beat of quiet. Then I took a breath.
“I have to tell you something.”
Knox’s brow furrowed. “That sounds ominous.”
“It’s not. At least, I hope it’s not.” I chewed my lip. “I called Gwen.”
Every muscle in his body went rigid. His hand tightened around mine, not painfully, but desperately. Like I’d just handed him something fragile and he was terrified to drop it.
“I figured she’d want to know you were here. She wanted to rush right over, but I convinced her to wait until visiting hours.”
Knox didn’t speak. Didn’t move. His chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, and when I finally worked up the courage to look at his face, I saw something I’d never seen on him before.
Hope. Raw and terrified and blazing.
