Page 59 of Ruthless Edge

I jump back. Knox lets go of my hips and turns. We both stand there looking at the car, where a second voice from inside is saying oh my god, oh my god, man, I'm so sorry, and the first person is bent at the waist like he’s not finished.

Knox and I look at each other.

He starts laughing first.

It comes out all at once, and I try to hold out for at least five seconds, I really do, but I get maybe three before I'm gone too. We're standing on the sidewalk completely losing it while the driver's friend waves apologetically from the car window, and it takes a full minute before either of us gets back to anything functional.

"Okay," Knox says finally, wiping his eyes.

“Right?”

Continuing to walk, his hand brushes mine several times, but we don’t hold hands. We just walk close together, pretending we didn’t almost just kiss.

We reach my building and I reach for the bottom of the hoodie to pull it off, and Knox says, "Keep it."

"No, I⁠—"

"Keep it," he says again. "I like seeing you in my clothes. Plus, we both know you’d just end up tangled up in it again if you tried to take it off."

My heart flip flops in my chest as I look at him. He's looking back at me, and for one second it's almost as serious as the sidewalk was.

Then, he adds, "Plus I think you look a hell of a lot better in it."

I laugh despite myself. Which he knew I would. If there’s one thing he knows how to do, it’s make me laugh. Oh, and make me feel things I so shouldn’t be feeling.

I go inside still wearing his hoodie.

It’s strange. I came to a party wanting space from him. I wanted one night where I could remember that I have Owen, who is good and clear and uncomplicated, and that Knox is something I've already been hurt by and have every reason to stay away from.

Instead I'm standing in my entryway in Knox Carter's clothes, thinking about an interrupted almost-kiss, thinking about the way he switched places with me on the road and then said nothing about it, thinking about how he remembered Hallie's name.

The boy I spent three years being furious at is getting harder and harder to find.

I don't know what to do with what's replacing him.

Chapter Fifteen

Knox

I pull up to Emma's building at nine fifty-three, which is the earliest I've been anywhere in recent memory, and I sit in the car, nerves higher than before any hockey game I’ve ever played in.

Two hours to The Hawthorne. Two hours back. Whatever happens in between.

Emma is giving me more time today than she's given me in three years combined, and she agreed to it, and I'm going to make it count.

She comes out at ten on the dot, which I could have predicted, because Emma Lawson loves to be punctual, and I love her for it. She's in jeans and a light jacket, my hoodie on underneath, which I fucking love. She has a binder tucked under her arm, she's wearing her hair up, and there's something focused in her expression that she probably doesn't know is showing. She looks like someone who’s quietly prepared for war.

I get out of the car.

"Knox." She's already at the passenger side. "You don't have to⁠—"

"Good morning." I open the door for her.

She looks at the open door. Looks at me. "You're doing this the whole day, aren't you?"

"Gentlemen open the doors for ladies. It’s what we do. Now, get in."

She shakes her head, but she's smiling when she gets in. I count that immediately and enthusiastically as a win.