Page 90 of The Quiet After The Fall

“You can trust Knox, Dad.”

They size each other up, neither backing down.

“Can I?” Dad's eyes stay fixed on Knox, hard and searching. “Give me one good reason why I should trust an Aldrich with anything, let alone something this dangerous.”

“Because I've spent the last two days getting my ribs caved in trying to protect her, and I still showed up here anyway.” Knox doesn’t blink, doesn’t back down an inch. “Because last night I chose not to go sit at my mother’s hospital bed so I could be here instead, digging for the truth. I don’t need you to trust me because of my last name. I need you to trust me because of what I’ve actually done since this started.”

Dad’s expression shifts—his eyes open wider, his brows smooth. “You’re not like your father.”

“Fuck no,” Knox says. “I’d rather be dead.”

“I always knew you’d be different. Even when you were a little kid.”

Silence stretches long enough that I start to wonder if I should say something. Anything to break the tension between them. Then Dad exhales and some of the fight leaves his shoulders. Now he just looks exhausted.

“I need to ask you about the embezzlement,” Knox says. “The truth. What actually happened. Because I don't think it’s as simple as what came out at trial.”

“I’ll tell you what I know,” Dad says, looking defeated. “But I want you both to understand something first. None of it makes what I did right or better. I made my own choices. Choices I have to live with. But Richard…his hands are filthier than anyone in that town.”

He begins, and with every word he looks more like his old self. It’s like he’s rehearsed this hundreds of times in his cell. It wouldn’t surprise me if he had. I listen, my hand still covering Knox’s, and by the time the guards announce the end of our visit, my stomach’s hit the floor and my thoughts are all over the place. I’m hollowed out, wrung dry but also somehow bursting with this new knowledge.

Dad reaches for my free hand one more time before we go, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I should’ve told you years ago. I’m sorry I let you find out like this.”

I don’t have words for him yet so I nod and let Knox pull me up from the chair and lead me out of the room.

We don’t speak again until we’re back in the Jeep, miles from the prison.

“What do we do? I don’t know where to go from here.”

I turn to him, watching the changes in his expression as he ponders the question. Jaw tight, fingers gripping the wheel, brows drawn in.

“We end it,” he finally says. “All of it.”

Chapter 23

Knox

Iget Sawyer back to the guesthouse without being seen, parking away from the property and slipping through the gap in the fence line the same way I did last night. It’s not until the door is locked safely behind us that I let some of the tension drain from my shoulders.

Last night feels like a different lifetime by now. Dinner with Ella, forcing down overcooked steak while she asked the same questions as always and I fed her the same tired lines. Buried with work, wedding planning is her thing, the stress is a lot. I told her about the memorial for Owen, said I needed the whole weekend, that it’ll be difficult for me to get through and I’ll need some alone time. She squeezed my hand across the table, told me to take whatever time I needed, looking equally as affected by the mention of Owen. I hated myself even more for bringing him up and causing her more pain.

I’m so tired of the lies. The performance. Every kind word out of Ella’s mouth adds another weight on my chest. I have no damn idea how to fix it all, how to rid myself of the guilt without hurting her in the process.

Sawyer sits on the edge of the bed, taking her shoes off. She’s been quiet since we left, and even now she looks like she’s still analyzing every word David said. She puts her hair up, and scrolls her phone, so I take a few minutes to get comfortable too, grabbing a T-shirt from the duffle bag I brought in last night and swapping my contacts for my glasses.

“You should rest,” I tell her. “It’s been a hell of a day.”

She clicks out of whatever she was doing on her phone and drops on the bed, already looking more at ease.

“So should you.” Her gaze darts to my torso and I realize I’ve been unintentionally palming my bruised ribs. She pats the bed next to her. “Come here.”

I sit and she immediately reaches for my face, brushing her fingers over the frame of my glasses like she can’t help herself.

“You really do love these.”

Her eyes meet mine. “I do. You know why.”

I catch her hand and press a kiss to her palm. “Tell me again.”