For the first time in years, I felt something other than afraid. I felt alive. I felt chosen. I felt like someone finally saw the broken parts of me and decided they were worth holding anyway.
His hand slid down my spine, and I arched into him. The kiss turned desperate, both of us taking and giving in equal measure. He tasted like bad coffee and something darker, something that made my head spin.
When we finally broke apart, we were both breathing hard.
Knox pressed his forehead to mine, his chest heaving. His hand was still tangled in my hair, like he couldn’t quite bring himself to let go.
“Harper.” My name on his lips sounded like a confession.
I stared up at him. At this man who was clearly dangerous … not just because my head was telling me that he was a convicted murderer, but because my heart (and body) no longer cared that he was. At this man who reorganized supplies just to make sure I was okay. At this man who had just kissed me like I was the only thing in the world worth kissing.
He pulled back just enough to look at me. Those eyes were molten now, dark with something I couldn’t name.
Everything changed, I realized. Again.
No. Not again. This was different. This was worse. This was better. This was the kind of change that couldn’t be undone.
I had just kissed an inmate.
And the terrifying part wasn’t that it had happened.
The terrifying part was that I wanted to do it again.
28
HARPER
I was going to buy a house.
Not rent. Not lease.Buy.With my name on the deed and a front door that locked from the inside. If I was rebuilding my life from the ashes of everything Silas had burned down, I was doing it my way.
The dream wasn’t new. I’d been secretly saving for the last year I was still with him, squirreling away cash like a prisoner hiding a shiv. Every dollar was a tiny act of defiance. Every transfer to that hidden account was me whispering,I’m getting out.
And now I was out.
This rented bungalow was never meant to be forever. It was a pit stop, a place to catch my breath while I executed the plan I’d been building in secret. But having that plan and working on it kept me grounded. Sane. Every spreadsheet update was proof I was moving forward. Every budget adjustment was me taking action instead of just surviving.
The house was still years away. But the plan was solid. And solid plans were the only thing standing between me and the chaos I’d left behind.
Faith sat cross-legged on my couch, a container of pad thai balanced on her knee while Rainbow sprawled across her lap like a furry catastrophe. The dog’s tongue hung sideways out of her mouth, one bulging eye fixed on Faith’s noodles while the other seemed to be inspecting my ceiling fan.
“What are you working on over there?” Faith asked, gesturing with her chopsticks toward my laptop.
“Building a five-year financial model.”
She scrunched her nose. “Adding that to the list of sentences that have never once made me feel sexy.”
I laughed, the sound still foreign in my own living room. “I know it’s not glamorous, but if I’m staying in this state for good, I need a plan.”
Staying? Was it because Knox was in this state?
“No, I get it.” Faith set down her chopsticks, her expression softening. “I did the same thing when I was facing potential prison time. Drafted every document I could think of. Made sure the people I cared about would be taken care of if the worst happened.”
Something sharp and hollow twisted in my chest. I didn’t have anyone to take care of. No one who would let me anyway. Mom and Dad had siphoned plenty of money from me over the years, but it had gone straight into bottles and bad decisions. Nowhere useful. Nowhere that mattered.
What kind of person felt jealous that Faith had actual people who depended on her?
People who love her.
