Page 117 of Hard Bargain

Knox didn’t look up. His hands kept moving. “No. I’ve got it.”

“You’re losing the rhythm.”

He pressed harder, like that alone proved something.

“Let me help, Knox.”

He didn’t know how to let go. Stopping wasn’t something he was allowed to do. His arms were shaking too hard to disguise, and his hands weren’t coming down the same way.

Dominic didn’t wait any longer. His hand closed over Knox’s, guiding them away, taking his place without faltering.

Knox sat back and dragged a hand over his face, his arms heavy and useless. He watched without really seeing. Somewhere in the distance, there was a sound.

Sirens.

Knox stayed where he was on the floor, listening to the sound drawing nearer. As long as the sirens were getting closer, then maybe they weren’t too late.

* * *

He hated the smell of hospitals. It sat wrong in his lungs, like a weight he couldn’t breathe past. Antiseptic, plastic, and something underneath both he couldn’t name but recognized anyway. The smell of a place where things went wrong and hope felt thin.

He was sitting, but he didn’t remember choosing to. One second he’d been moving and the next he was here: seated in a chair that felt too hard. He stared at his hands, curled in his lap. There was a tremor there, barely visible unless he looked for it.

Voices moved around him. Nurses. A cart rattling somewhere down the hall. A door opening and closing. None of it stuck. Time didn’t feel like it was moving properly—he couldn’t tell how long he’d been sitting here.

Minutes.

Hours.

It didn’t matter.

The only thing that mattered was the door at the end of the hallway. He hadn’t taken his eyes off it for more than a few seconds at a time.

Dominic was beside him, close enough that their shoulders touched. He hadn’t left. The steady contact grounded Knox in a way he didn’t question and couldn’t have explained. It kept him from slipping too far inside his own head.

I want him to hold my hand.

The thought was almost absurd in its simplicity. Ridiculously needy. Nobody had ever held his hand to comfort him. Not once.

Dominic’s hand closed around his, and Knox froze.

Fuck.

He’d said that out loud.

He turned his head. Dominic wasn’t looking at him—just sitting there, steady as always, holding Knox’s hand like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Knox didn’t pull away. His fingers tightened without him meaning to, as if his body had already decided to hold on. Something in his chest shifted with it, his vision blurring for a second. He blinked hard, trying to push it back before it broke through. But the pressure stayed, building behind his eyes in a way he couldn’t shut down.

He breathed in. Held it. Let it out. The pressure didn’t break, but it didn’t spill over either.

Footsteps approached, and a doctor stepped into view. “Mr. Wolfe?”

He jumped up. “Yeah,” he said, his voice rougher than expected.

The doctor stopped in front of him. “She’s stable.”

The words landed, but they didn’t settle. Knox stared at him, waiting for them to mean something. “What does that mean?”