Page 34 of Knox's Boy

I tried to stand up, but my knees were water. I swayed, my hand clutching the metal frame of the cot. I must have looked hideous, dirty, wearing ill-fitting rags, dark hollows under my eyes, hair matted. I wanted to hide. I wanted to crawl under the bed and die of shame.

But Knox was moving. He covered the distance, ignoring the staff who tried to step in his way.

He reached me just as my legs gave out.

I didn't hit the floor. His arms caught me, solid and unbreakable. He hauled me up against him, burying his face in my neck, his grip so tight it threatened to crack my ribs. He smelled of cedar and home. He smelled like safety.

"I've got you," he growled, his voice rough and shaking against my ear. "I've got you. I'm here."

The dam inside me, the one I had built out of pride and survival instinct and fear, shattered. A sob ripped its way out of my throat, raw and ugly. I clutched the lapels of his coat with filthy hands, burying my face in the wool, surrendering every ounce of my will to his strength.

"Daddy," I whispered, the word breaking into a thousand pieces. "I’m sorry I didn’t call… I’m so sorry…”

“You have nothing to be sorry about. If anything, I’m sorry for taking so long to come.”

“Daddy, please... take me home."

"I am," Knox said. "We're going home. Right now."

Chapter 17. Knox

The smell hit me, unwashed bodies, wet wool, and hopelessness. The lighting was no better. Rows of cots stretched out before me, a sea of human misery. I felt a curl of revulsion, not for the people, but for the fact thathewas here. That I had allowed him to sink to this.

I moved. I cut a path through the room, my presence a disruption in the atmosphere. Heads turned. Dull eyes watched. I didn't care. I saw nothing but the destination.

And then I saw him.

He was huddled on a cot near the back wall, knees pulled up to his chest, making himself as small as possible. He was wearing a sweater three sizes too big, a hideous thing. His hair was matted. His face... God, his face was gaunt, the cheekbones sharp enough to cut. He looked like a broken doll thrown in the gutter.

My heart stopped, then restarted with a violent, painful thud.

"Florian," I breathed.

He looked up. The recognition in his eyes was slow, fighting through layers of exhaustion and terror. Then, he crumbled. He tried to stand and failed, swaying like a reed in a storm.

I was there before he could fall. I caught him, hauling him up against my chest, wrapping my coat around him to shield him from the world. He felt terrifyingly light, bird-boned and fragile in my grip. He buried his face in my neck, sobbing, a raw, wounded sound that tore through my composure.

"Daddy, I’m sorry," he whimpered.

He was apologizing! He thought it was his fault when it was entirely mine. The fury at myself reignited in my gut. He was too precious for this world.

I carried him out. I didn't look back. I marched through the rows of cots, past the security desk, out into the cool, wet air of the evening. The driver had the back door open. I deposited Florian onto the leather seat and climbed in immediately after him, pulling the door shut and sealing us in the quiet, climate-controlled sanctuary of the car.

"Home," I told the driver.

The partition slid up, granting us privacy.

Florian was shaking. It was a full-body tremor, his teeth chattering, his hands clutching at the lapels of my coat where I still held him. I pulled him across the seat until he was pressed against my side.

"I'm sorry," he babbled, the words tumbling out in a frantic, disjointed stream again. "I'm so sorry, Daddy. I didn't mean to... I didn't mean to ignore you. My phone... they stole my phone. And my backpack. I had your card, I swear, I had it, but I didn'twant to use it because... because I thought I could fix it... and then they stole it anyway… I didn’t want to be a burden to you."

He was hyperventilating, his eyes wide and panicked.

"I got evicted," he choked out, tears cutting clean tracks through the grime on his cheeks. "Mr. Henderson, he... he put me out on Monday night. My phone was dead. I didn't know where to go. I'm sorry I look like this. I smell terrible. I'm ruining your car. I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."

"Florian."

"I tried to find a way to call you, but I didn't know the number and they stole my ID as well…"