"Been busy."
"For two weeks."
A flicker in those eyes. "You noticed."
Of course I noticed. I've been looking for you every time the door opens. I've been lying awake listening for motorcycles. I've been replaying that moment in the guest room until I swear I can still feel your tusk under my fingers.
"Your brothers drive past my apartment at night," I say instead. "Hard to miss."
"They're not supposed to be subtle."
"So you can send them, but you can't come yourself?"
The question hangs between us. Knox's expression doesn't change, but I see his hand squeeze the coffee cup.
"Someone's looking for you, Sarah." His voice drops lower. "Strangers asking questions in the next town over. Your name. Your car. What direction you were headed." He meets my eyes. "We're handling it."
My blood turns to ice. The diner tilts. Peter. It has to be Peter.
I grip the counter to keep myself upright, my knuckles going white. He found me. Three thousand miles and he found me. I'm already calculating—how fast can I pack, how much cash do I have left, where else can I go—
"Hey, look at me."
Knox's voice cuts through the spiral. His hand covers mine on the counter, warm and heavy, anchoring me to the spot.
"Breathe."
I didn't realize I'd stopped. I pull in air, shaky, and his grip tightens.
"How do you know?" My voice comes out thin. Wrong.
"I make it my business to know." He doesn't let go of my hand. "You're in my territory now. That means you're under my protection."
I should feel grateful. I should feel relieved that someone is looking out for me.
Instead I feel the pull again—that sense of pieces fitting together.
"Why?" The question comes out smaller than I want. "You don't know me. That night in the guest room, I—" I stop. Swallow. Force myself to continue. "I don't know what came over me. Asking to touch you like that. But when I did, you..." I trail off, not sure how to say it.
Knox sets down his cup. His eyes bore into mine.
"I what?"
"Changed." The word scrapes past my lips. "I saw it. I felt it. And then you left, and you've been avoiding me ever since."
Silence. The diner fades to background noise. I'm aware of my heart pounding, of Knox's gaze locked on my face, of the space between us that feels both too wide and not wide enough.
"You've got a whole life ahead of you," His voice roughens at the edges. "Don't waste it in a forgotten town like this."
He's telling me to leave. To move on. Find somewhere better than this coastal dead-end with its monster bikers and small-town gossip.
"What if I'm not looking for a future?" I meet his eyes. "What if I just needed somewhere to hide?"
He studies me for a long moment. "Then you picked the right place."
The tightness in my chest loosens. A weight I've been carrying for years shifts, lightens.
Knox finishes his coffee. Pulls bills from his pocket—far too much for a single cup—and leaves them on the counter. He stands, and I have to crane my neck to look up at him.
