“Do you at least get to talk to her?” I asked softly.
“Her mother didn’t think that was a good idea either.”
Anger swelled through me on his behalf. “You know, I had an absentee father. He was physically present, but that was about it. I would’ve given anything for a father who cared enough to want to see me. And if I’d found out my mom was the one stopping it?” I shook my head. “I would’ve been furious.”
“I’m a convicted killer, Harper.”
Okay. I had more serious questions about that topic. But first, the kid conversation.
“Do you want to see your daughter? Talk to her?”
I could have sworn I caught a tremble in his lower lip. “More than you can imagine.”
I rubbed my thumb along his skin. “How old is she?”
“She just turned eighteen.”
“Then everything has changed,” I said firmly.
He paused. “How do you figure?”
“She’s legally an adult now. Your ex can’t gatekeep anymore.”
Knox chewed on his lip, as if he hadn’t considered this before. I watched hope take flight across his face, fragile and uncertain, like a bird testing its wings for the first time.
“I do have her address,” he admitted.
“There you go.” I pulled my hand away from his. Not because I wanted to, but because it was the smart thing to do with the threat of Dr. Mercer returning any second. “Write to her. Even if you never hear back. Trust me, a daughter needs to know her father loves her.”
Knox considered this, then shook his head slowly. “I do write to her. But I never mail them.”
“Really? Why?”
He paused. “For years, I thought I was doing the right thing by leaving her alone. I didn’t want to infect her life with the burden of some father in prison. I didn’t want her to feel obligated to carry on a relationship with me or have to explain to her friends that her dad is locked up.” His voice grew rough. “But letting her go hurt like hell. I think about her every single day of my life. And I miss her so much, it guts me.” His voice cracked on the last word.
I swallowed hard, the intimacy of the moment wrapping around us like something tangible. “Can I ask a super-personal question?”
Knox’s attention fixed on me so intensely, it felt like a physical weight.
“Harper, you can ask me anything.”
Warmth flooded my system. Simple words, and yet they cracked something open inside me.
“You can ask me anything.”
This man, who kept his secrets locked behind steel doors, who revealed nothing to anyone, who had survived fourteen years in this hellhole by keeping his walls fortified … he would tear them down for me.
He would make himself vulnerable. Exposed. For me.
The realization wrapped around my chest and squeezed.
“Why did you confess to the murder?”
His eyebrows shot up. “Come again?”
I shrugged. “I watch a lot of murder mysteries. Plenty of people get away with it. So, why confess?”
A slow grin spread across his face. “Harper, are you implying I should have run from the law?”
