“Not at all. I’d never respect a guy who leaves a dead body and doesn’t own up to it.”
Jesus. What kind of banter was I engaged in?
The kind that made Knox’s head fall back in another chuckle.
“Well, believe it or not, my parents raised me right. I know it doesn’t seem that way, what with me being a convicted murderer, but there’s right, and there’s wrong. And I did kill him.”
Harper, repeat that phrase in your head:I did kill him.Knox is a killer.
Why weren’t all the red flags stabbing through the affection wrapping itself around my heart?
“Here’s the thing about murder,” Knox continued, his voice sobering. “There’s no statute of limitations. You can’t run from it long enough to put it behind you. Even if you could somehow get past it psychologically, legally, it will haunt you for the rest of your life. They build cases decades after the crime. You could be a middle-aged man, happily married with kids and a career, and they could come knocking on your door one day.” He met my eyes. “So, when they found me, I knew immediately I wasn’t going to fight it. I was going to accept the consequences, whatever they were, and put that part of my life behind me.”
I studied him. “Why do I feel like there’s more to the story?”
From what I’d gathered from everything he’d said, some man must have attacked his daughter, and Knox had killed him. But if that was the case, it would be self-defense. At least partially. So, why was Knox in prison for murder? And why did I feel like there was something more he was keeping from me?
The infirmary door buzzed open. Dr. Mercer’s voice floated in from the hallway, and Knox straightened immediately, putting distance between us.
25
KNOX
For fourteen years, every day bled into the next. Every minute hollow and soulless, filled with nothing but time to think about how much I was missing.
My parents. Every birthday, every Christmas, I wasn’t there. I wasn’t there to help my mother navigate her paralysis. Paralysis that came the day of my sentencing. My sister, Dakota, had broken down sobbing so hard, she’d run out of the courthouse and straight into traffic. My mom saved her. The price tag was the use of her legs.
All because of me.
Throughout my time here, I’d often felt hopeless. I couldn’t help anyone I loved from inside this prison, and if I couldn’t help anyone, what good was I to them? I felt depressed at times too. I hated admitting that to myself. A stronger man wouldn’t let himself feel depressed, but five thousand days and nights in a concrete tomb will hollow you out whether you want it to or not.
But mostly, I felt alone.
Which wasn’t even true. A better person would recognize how not alone I was. It was selfish to let that loneliness creep in when I had four men who’d never left my side. They visited me. They cared. And my parents did too. So did my sister.
But somehow, it was like I was a fish trapped in a bowl, pressing my face against the glass, watching the world move on without me. Waiting for my life to begin again.
Pathetic.
My absence was a black hole. It sucked the light from everyone I loved, and I couldn’t do a damn thing to stop it. The only way I got through any of it was by convincing myself that they were all better off without me.
Because they were. Every single one of them.
And then there was my ex. While she and I had not been deeply in love by any means, we had a daughter to raise, and she had to do it alone. Without any help from me.
While I stood by what I’d done, and frankly, I’d kill the guy again if I had the chance, it didn’t mean it was easy on her. Or fair.
Raising a kid with no college education. Expenses. Sleepless nights. I couldn’t even contribute money.
It was ironic that I’d gladly traded my freedom to protect my daughter, but the very act of protecting her had turned me into a deadbeat dad who couldn’t even pay child support.
That knowledge chipped even more of my self-worth away.
No wonder my ex stopped bringing Gwen to visit. What did I bring to their lives?
Nothing.
When I’d killed that man to save my kid, I didn’t realize at the time that I also killed my chance at seeing her.
