Page 17 of Puck Me Twice Over

His lips quirked. “I can show you things, Flick,” he murmured. “But only if you let me help for now." He shrugged. “Or if you can skip this I’ll get you new things.”

I shivered as the old Knox resurfaced just like that. “I need my things please,” I whispered as my throat tightened and breath became a precious commodity. “You’ve already done so much.”

Knox blew out a long breath. “I did it again, huh?”

“Yep.”

He kissed my temple and drew me forward. “Do you want to go first?”

“Nope. Otherwise, what are you for, if not muscle?” I gave him a playful push to show him we were okay.

He knocked, not answering me. A moment later, the door opened and Garrett stood there dressed in a white t-shirt and jeans. Everything about him was neat and tidy but that was where the similarities between the two men ended. His skin was pasty and soft, as though he never spent a hard day working. Which was true. I knew he didn't. If Garrett needed yard work or anything around the house done, either I did it or he paid someone else for the job, claiming he never had time. He didn’t work out—same argument—and he rarely saw the sun, see first clause.

The Chimera beside me, on the other hand, stood half a foot taller than him, though it wasn’t just height. Knox held himself with the sort of confidence that couldn’t be bought. And he’d always been that way, ever since we were in school together. He had a predatory look about him, as though the world should bend to his will. Where Garrett was neat and tidy and soft, the man who gripped my hand firmly in his was all sharp lines and firm muscle brewed on pure determination.

The difference between Garret and Knox couldn't be greater.

I shivered and tried to take a step backward. Knox let me, observing Garret.

“We’re here for Felicity’s things. Have you packed them up or do we need to come in?” He left no space for argument, either in voice or space as he stepped forward into the cavity where the door had taken up a moment before.

Garrett stood frozen, his mouth agape. His eyes flicked between Knox, then around him to me. “Felicity? I wondered where you’d been,” he lied smoothly, ignoring the hulking ice hockey player standing between us.

Utter bullshit. Rage brewed deep in my belly. My nails dug into the back of Knox’s hand but before I could say a word, he shook his head.

“No. You didn’t,” he said pleasantly. His voice deepened the slightest amount, the only indicator he gave of his utter displeasure at my ex’s ability to misrepresent the truth. “Her phone hasn’t gone off once. After you left Flick in the rain without a ride, you didn’t come back. You didn’t call, and you didn’t message. Where are her things?”

My heart pounded too hard and fast against my ribs, the additional blood flow stealing my breath. “It’s fine,” I managed to push out. “I’ll buy new things.”

“With what?” Garrett uttered a hollow laugh. “What bank account is in your name, darlin’?” His voice turned mocking, the sharpness of it slicing through the fast falling night.

My world tilted. “That’s not⁠—”

“Mine?” He snorted. “You haven’t worked for years. Not since—” He waved a hand toward my midsection.

My scar itched, and I pressed a hand to it. The scent of chicken soup, the same stuff that there was an excess delivery of the week I was in hospital years ago, drifted through my mind. It’s only memory. But the trauma was strong enough that I looked around to check if he’d cooked. Huh. What a joke. Garrett never cooked for himself, the same way he never did hard labor for himself. Those ideals went hand in hand.

Then reality hit me. He’d taken me off the accounts. Our joint accounts. Everything I had saved was in there. Everything I owned was in this house. Garrett’s house. I was sure I had rights, but I had nothing to fight him with. No income. No bank account.

Nothing.

And it wasn’t just my clothes and my jewelry inside those walls between me and him, but everything. All my old study materials, my jewelry, my photos. My life before Garrett.

Part of me knew Garrett was cold inside. But there were also moments where he showed affection. Or at least, I thought he had. Apparently those moments were fewer than I’d ever believed. Never had I expected that he would lock me out of the home we shared.

I shook my head, blind to the world around me. “It’s fine.” My words came from a great distance, echoing weirdly in my ears.

“Felicity,” Knox spoke with a warning undercurrent, turning back to me, but the warning wasn’t aimed at me.

I knew that even as he reached for me but gravity wasn't the same any more. Knox drew me in close, the warmth of his arms, the safety of him mere inches away but I didn't want to share that space under Garrett's watchful, greedy eyes. He’d taken so much. I wouldn’t let him have this moment too.

“I want to go,” I gasped, taking a step backward. My toe hit my other foot, and I stumbled. “I can’t stay here.”

My pulse thrummed too fast. Garret would never let me in. This was a stupid idea. If he hadn’t called in the last day, why would he care what I did now? Coming here had been a mistake. I’d have to start from the beginning. Of everything. Money, thoughts of a family. What a home meant… I’d let him shut me off from family and friends in the last years. I had literally nothing. Starting fresh meant exactly that, including somewhere to sleep. How did one go about finding a hostel for the night? I had no idea. Sleeping on the street would be easier. Just…somewhere. Anywhere.

Garrett’s chin rose when I made the mistake of looking back at the house, right before a broad shoulder blocked the white washed building, too clean and too pristine, from my view.

“It’s okay. Come on.” Knox gripped my arms and drew me against his chest. One hand closed on the back of my head, and he spoke gently. “I’ll be back to see you, Garry boy.”