Knox notices.He always notices.And he lets me.
“I’m going downstairs,” I say.
His jaw flexes.I wait for the no, but it doesn’t come.“For what?”he asks.
“To clean glasses or stack napkins or do something that isn’t sitting in my apartment pretending the walls aren’t closing in on me.”
He nods once.“I’ll be in the cage.”
“Punching more walls?”
“People, probably.”
“That seems healthier.”
“It is for me.”
I should leave it there.I really should.But my gaze drops to his bandaged hand.The one I wrapped badly in the dark.“Be careful with your hand.”
His eyes darken, and the air shifts.Just a little.“Are you worried about me, Briana?”
The way he says my name makes my stomach dip.
I lift my chin.“I’m worried about having to redo that bandage.My work was terrible the first time.”
The almost-smile returns.“Liar.”
My breath catches.The word shouldn’t feel like a touch, but it does.
I turn before he sees too much.Before I let the heat in my belly become something I am not ready to name.Before I forget that wanting and trusting aren’t the same thing, no matter how much my body tries to confuse them.
At the door, I pause.“Knox?”
“Yes?”
I don’t look back.“If you hear me scream, then you can come running.”
The silence behind me is immediate.Thick.Dangerous.
“And if I don’t?”he asks.
I force my hand to unclench from the doorframe.“Then trust me to stand.”
I leave before he can answer.Because if he says yes, I might believe him.And believing monsters is how girls like me get destroyed.Or saved.I am not ready to know which one Knox will be.
