The way he said it, like he knew I was lying but wasn’t going to call me out on it, almost made me smile.
“There are a lot of ways to earn a living.” He raised an eyebrow, the implication clear. “Plenty of hospitals hiring nurses. Clinics. Doctor’s offices with free coffee and patients who don’t shank each other over commissary snacks.”
I snorted. “You’re giving me career advice?”
“Just an observation.”
“And what, exactly, are you observing?”
He was quiet for a moment. Studying me the way I imagined he studied everyone in here. Threat assessment. Survivalinstinct. But there was something else in it too. Something that felt less like calculation and more like … concern.
“You flinch,” he said finally.
My hand stilled. “Excuse me?”
“With loud noises. You flinch.” He said it like he was commenting on the weather. Matter-of-fact. No judgment. “And you grip things too tight when you’re nervous. Like the tray earlier.”
“Most people don’t notice things like that,” I said carefully.
“Most people aren’t paying attention.” His gaze flicked to my cheekbone. Just for a second. But long enough. “That scar’s fresh. Whoever gave it to you was right-handed.”
My breath caught.
“So, I’ll ask again.” His voice stayed gentle. Almost soft. Which somehow made it worse. “Why come looking for more monsters when someone already taught you what they look like?”
I swallowed hard, focusing on his knuckles instead of his words. “This job pays well. Benefits are good. And I’m tougher than I look.”
“Never said you weren’t tough.”
Something warm flickered in my chest. I cleared my throat and stepped back, putting professional distance between us.
Focus, Harper.
“If you did it to try to get in my good graces, it’s too late,” I claimed, wishing I meant it as much as I should have. I resumed re-stitching and cleaning his wounds, his hand dwarfing mine. “I already filled out all my medical documentation yesterday. And Mercer did for Doyle too. Anyone reading it with half a brain will figure out you were the aggressor.”
“Do you think I intervened today so you would modify your report?”
I paused. “From what I understand, the other nurses were less … thorough in their notes.” I’d checked actually. The nurses’ reports were bare-bones at best. Understaffed, overworked, or maybe just smart enough to know that detailed reports on Knox Blackwood might not be career-enhancing. “From what I understand, you’ve gotten away with a lot of shit in this prison.”
“Sounds like you understand a lot of things.”
“I also understand you don’t talk to people.” I kept my eyes on his knuckles, working methodically. “Dr. Mercer said in all her time here, you haven’t spoken a word to medical staff.”
Knox said nothing.
“So, why talk to me?” I finally looked up. “Why answer my questions on my first day when you’ve spent years giving everyone else the silent treatment?”
He didn’t answer immediately. Just watched me with that unnerving intensity, like he was deciding how much truth I could handle.
“It was your first day,” he finally said. “You seemed afraid. Thought talking to you might make you less afraid.”
He’d done it to put me at ease?
Something shifted in my chest. Something I absolutely refused to examine.
“And now?” I heard myself ask. “You’re still talking to me.”
“Guess I didn’t hate it.”
