Once he sets the pen down, he looks at me again. “You never called me.”
I open my mouth to respond but snap it closed again. I almost replied with something snarky. It’s his tone that keeps me from following through. There was no accusation or anger behind his words. “I haven’t needed any help.”
He raises an eyebrow, calling me out on my lie.
I scoff. “I didn’t think you actually meant what you said.”
“I very rarely say things I don’t mean, Princess.”
And with those words, he turns and walks out of the diner, stopping to chat with the blonde woman before heading off in the opposite direction she goes.
I stand there, doing my best imitation of a fish, while I try to figure out what the hell is happening.
That is not the Knox I’ve come to know.
The one I’m familiar with takes every opportunity he’s given to cut me down a notch. The person I know would never have offered to help me and meant it. He’d have reamed me out for using a broken ladder and called me an idiot. Again. Then he’d have likely insulted my outfit.
Something is goingon with him.
Maybe he’s been body snatched. I’ve never believed in ghosts or aliens or whatever, but the Knox who just walked out of this diner is not the same one who walked into my classroom a few months ago.
This is almost worse than him constantly spewing shitty things at me. At least with that Knox, I know what I’m going to get every time he comes near me.
I hate feeling off-kilter. I’m questioning everything now because change means something is coming. I’ve learned to listen to my gut, but what happens when my gut is just as confused as I am?
I grab his receipt from the counter to log the total and almost gasp at the number he wrote on the tip line.
A hundred bucks.
That infuriating man tipped me a hundred dollars when his total was only twenty-five.
What the hell is he playing at?
CHAPTER 17
Knox
Itighten my abs, slinging the ax into the log in front of me. The crack is as satisfying as always. I don’t particularly need firewood, but I’ve got a mountain of tension to dispel, and this is my only outlet.
Finn is sitting in his tiny camping chair that came with an umbrella. He’s got his sunglasses on while he sips from a thermos of lemonade. I keep stealing glances at him because he looks so damn cute over there. In the last hour, he’s switched from reading books to coloring, and now he’s got a lap tray out to give him a surface to build with LEGO blocks. I’ve told him he doesn’t have to spend time out here with me when it’s cooler inside, but he said he’d rather breathe the fresh air.
I have a feeling he picked up on my mood and is showing me his support in the only way he knows how. Quality time has always been his love language, and I can’t deny that I enjoy the time with him too. This may not be us directly interacting with each other, but it’s a way to be together despite my need for a physical outlet he can’t participate in.
Seeing Farrah at the diner this morning sent me into a tailspin. I knew she worked at the diner on the weekends—myfriends have mentioned it in passing. It was easy to avoid since I would rather cut my arm off than spend more than five minutes in that place, especially on a busy Sunday when all those busybodies congregate for their weekly gossip session.
When my business manager, Alicia, asked to meet at the diner to go over our upcoming projects, I thought it would be fine. It’s the middle of the week, and Farrah has been busy working on her house. Any time I checked on the cows on the back edge of my property, I saw her truck sitting outside.
It pissed me off, knowing she was probably using that ladder without anyone around to ensure she was safe, but I wasn’t about to storm into her house a second time. Once was plenty.
But no. Farrah couldn’t help but be unpredictable. She had to not only be at the diner at the same time I was, but also be our waitress.
Then she had the audacity to look even more gaunt than the last time I saw her. I might’ve blacked out a bit when I was filling out the tip line, but I know it was way more than I should’ve given her.
Fuck.
What the fuck was I even thinking?
I wasn’t.
