Page 79

Even the first time we met, that same afternoon I came back, he was already outside. In reality, it’s hard to think of times where Knox wasn’t outside. Walking the fields with Miller, tracking inconsistencies with that furrowed brow. Working with his dad on repairs. Even climbing the porch swing to switch the light bulb no one asked him to change.

With shaky fingers, I wrap my hand into a fist on the front porch, and knock three sharp times.

It’s foreign and wrong, and yet walking in to do this, walking in to say what I need to say, feels…intrusive?

I glance through the tiny slot of stained glass in the wooden door and wait for movement. I know Lottie’s not home since she and Walker made plans to go see some new movie playing, and both of his parents’ cars are gone from the driveway, so if anyone is inside, it’s just Knox.

Just Knox.

Is there anything just about him, though? Now that I feel this veil has been ripped away for me to see everything so clearly…I can’t imagine not saying this.

It’s the same way I felt the moment he left Ada’s. Cal and all of my other friends laughing around me, smiling and joking, and all I could think was Knox isn’t here, so something isn’t right.

And it’s the same thought that ran through my mind in Cal’s car when I knew I had to make it very clear we could only be friends. I don’t know what this is, what it could be, with Knox, but I know after the night in my room and after what I finally came to a conclusion about, there’s no chance of my not being here.

When the door finally opens, Knox is there filling the frame exactly the way I need and exactly the way I’m not prepared for.

He stands there bare-chested, favorite old jeans slung low on his hips, a duck cradled in his arms like a baby he’s been comforting. I think it’s Duck Norris, but I can’t be certain at this angle.

There’s a rumpled look to his hair, like he’s been tugging on the blond strands since I last saw him two hours ago. He looks…deliciously disheveled. I know that my focus must be off-kilter because I barely even stare at his bare chest, all that lean muscle… Okay, maybe I stare a little.

He takes me in as well, and I know I have to be looking far more disheveled than he does.

Since I left Ada’s, the bottom of the sky has completely fallen out—rain pouring in big heavy sideways spurts that gets you soaked no matter the angle or how much you try to outrun it. One of those rains where you’re going to get wet no matter what, so why not just soak it in and breathe in the earth.

Not to mention, I just spent about five minutes outside Cal’s car as it poured, explaining that he was a great guy, but I was too stupidly in love with Knox that it would be unfair to continue our relationship any further. I then paced outside, again in the rain, trying to think of how I’m supposed to say those exact same words to Knox.

Needless to say, the sweater I am sporting is thoroughly soaked through from the walking back and forth to my car. Every inch of me is wet, down to my bones, and I can’t find it in me to care under his gaze.

My jeans feel twice their weight and my thick curls drip steady rivulets down my neck, soaking my back.

A single droplet trails down the line of my collarbone, and Knox’s gaze follows it like it’s tethered to him.

He lowers Duck Norris gently, letting him waddle away, while we both stand there, the only noise encompassing us the steady rainfall that makes a curtain around his house.

When Knox finally talks, it’s shy. A little sweet and raspy all at once, a voice I’d only heard in my bedroom the day I was sick.

“You knocked.” It’s less of a statement and more of a question, I think.

“It was you, wasn’t it?” My voice is all breath, huffs of air like I’ve just run a marathon.

“Huh?”

“The charity event having a vegan dinner just for me. That was you, not Cal.”

“What?” He rubs at his eyes, and I almost feel guilty for waking him up or bothering him, but I don’t think I can wait on this a moment longer.

“When I said that today, about Cal being sweet for getting me that dinner separately, that wasn’t him. That was you.”

“I—” He glances behind me like he’ll find a good answer between the rain droplets. “What do you want me to say here?”

“I want you to be as honest with me as you always are. Did you do that?”

Knox is quiet for so long I want to stomp my foot and whine, “Tell meee.” I want to shake him. I want to lift him up like a tiny purse and rattle him around until exactly what I’m searching for falls into my lap.

He clears his throat, a slight shake of his head. “It worried me that you may not eat the whole time you were gone. I knew you’d be too sweet to tell Cal to stop somewhere and grab you food, and if you got back late or”—he swallows, thick and heavy—“stayed out all night, that it might… I just didn’t want you to starve.”

“How did you—”