Page 37 of Knox

Knox’s thumb stroked my knuckles. He muttered something under his breath that sounded a lot like a prayer for strength as the Jeep picked up speed.

Chapter 13

We drove on through Carolina Bay, hands linked across the console, keeping watch for the VW bus and the man who’d tried to hurt me. Thanks to Sheriff Sullivan, we also had specific addresses to swing by. Unfortunately, the ones we checked first didn’t have a VW bus in sight.

Our next stop was Alverez Marina, where Marissa’s father kept a small office overlooking the boat slips.

“Knox Hawthorne!” Mr. Alverez emerged from the office, weathered face breaking into a broad smile. “Heard you were back. Staying this time, I hope?” His gaze slid to our joined hands, and his smile widened. “And who’s this lovely young lady?”

“This is Sloane Mercer,” Knox said, his thumb brushing across my knuckles in a gesture that felt automatic now. “My girlfriend.”

The word sent a little thrill through me, even knowing it was for show.

“Mercer?” Mr. Alverez’s bushy eyebrows rose. “As in the big house on the sound?”

Here we go, I thought. The judgment. The assumptions.

But Mr. Alverez surprised me. “Marissa speaks very highly of you, Ms. Mercer. Says you’ve been nothing but kind to her and that you truly care about this island.” He extended his hand. “Welcome to the family. Any girl who makes Knox smile like that is all right in my book.”

Knox was smiling? I glanced at him and caught the slight upward curve of his lips, the softness in his eyes as he looked at me.

“Thank you,” I managed, shaking Mr. Alverez’s dimpled hand.

We showed him photos of the VW bus, but he hadn’t seen it around the marina. As we turned to leave, he called after us, “You two make a handsome couple. Claire would’ve been thrilled, Knox. Just thrilled.”

Back in the Jeep, I noticed Knox’s jaw working, emotion flickering across his face.

“You okay?” I asked softly.

“Yeah.” He squeezed my hand. “He’s right, you know? Mom would’ve been happy to see me dating.”

Our third stop was the island’s only hardware store, where Knox hoped the owner might remember anyone purchasing unusual supplies. The bell above the door announced our entrance, and an older woman looked up from behind the counter.

“Knox Hawthorne, as I live and breathe!” She came around the counter, pulling Knox into a hug despite his considerable height advantage. “Margaret from the Island Shakes told me you were back. Said you’d found yourself a girl too.” Her sharp eyes fixed on me with undisguised interest. “This her?”

“Mrs. Chase, this is Sloane.”

“Sloane Mercer,” Mrs. Chase said, not a question. “Heard about you. Heard about what happened at that party too.” Her expression sobered. “That must’ve been terrifying, honey.”

“Knox was there,” I said. “I was lucky.”

“Luck nothing. You fought back, from what I hear.” Mrs. Chase patted my hand. “And Claire raised her boy right. Taught him to protect what matters.” She winked at Knox. “Smart man, keeping this one close.”

As we left the store, unsuccessful in our VW bus search but thoroughly established as a couple in the local gossip network, Knox shook his head.

“Welcome to island life,” he said. “News of our new romance is making the rounds at warp speed.”

“Mission accomplished then,” I said, but my hand stayed firmly in his.

If I held on a little tighter than strictly necessary, if my pulse beat a little faster every time Knox looked at me, and if the fake relationship was already beginning to feel dangerously real to my heart…well, that was a problem for another day.

Knox

I turned my key in the lock at Island Adventures that night, and the familiar creak of the door sent a wave of emotion through my chest. How many times had I walked through this entrance as a kid? Hundreds. Thousands. The building smelled like my childhood. Salt, sunscreen, and the weathered boards that held it all together.

But everything was different now. My mother’s ghost stocked the shelves and spoke to customers. She watched through the back window as families walked the dock to admire the sound. Her smile would live here forever, and every time I entered the front door, it became harder to think about leaving. How could I sell my mother’s memory?

“You okay?” Sloane asked softly, her hand finding my arm.