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“That’s one way to put it.”
“Knuckles was just mad because he’s always the one that takes off by himself on a half-cocked mission without telling anyone. He was worried I'd take his spot as the lone ranger. I have no intention of stealing his thunder.”
“You’re insane,” I tell him, feigning seriousness.
“It seems like I’ve been trying to tell you that.”
“Knock knock,” Maya calls through the door. “I brought breakfast.”
Knox lays flat on the bed and says, “I’m not here.”
“Very funny, but I think the whole handcuffed-to-the-bed thing makes it pretty obvious you’re here.”
“Kinky.”
“Shut the fuck up.” I pull the door open and smile at Maya on the other side. “Hi. Thank you so much for bringing this up for us.”
Maya nods and peeks in to see Knox, and then pulls back like she realizes it was obvious what she was doing. “If you need anything else, let me know.”
Knox sleeps after breakfast, and I go back to searching his room. I checked in all the drawers last night, but I want to do a more thorough search in the daylight. I’m trying to remember what it was like to be a teenager hiding things from my parents, because that’s what it feels like I’m dealing with here.
Under pillows, under the sink, in the back of the toilet, under dresser drawers-
“That would’ve been a good hiding spot, but no.”
I scream out loud, and cover my mouth as I relearn how to breathe. When I turn around, Knox is laying on his side with his arm trussed up above his head. “So where should I be looking?” I don’t expect him to answer truthfully.
“Under the nightstand. Feel for it.”
I kneel beside the nightstand and feel under it. My mouth drops open when I brush over it and I yank it down. Plastic tape is holding up a straw and a credit card with Layla’s name on it. I toss it into the trash can I’ve been carrying around with me for hours. “Anywhere else?”
“The rest of them you won’t be able to reach.” He’s 6’7 and I’m 5’4. He’s right, I probably can’t reach most places he’d hide stuff. Lots of people wouldn’t be able to reach it. That’s why they’re good hiding spots.
“I’ll get a step ladder.”
He shakes his head. “Let me out. I’ll get them for you.”
Somehow, I know. I can just see it in his eyes. He’s playing me. This isn’t the Knox that promised he’d stay clean for me. This Knox is hearing the voices of demons that are hungry for a fix. “No. Who else is as tall as you? Pres is close, right?”
“No! Nell!” He throws his head back and stares at the ceiling. “Fuck!Fuck!”
I wait until most of the aggression leaves his body and then I climb on the bed next to him. “I’m sorry. I know it’s hard. You’ll get through this.” I reach over and slide my fingers through his, being careful of the bandages.
Knox’s face is red and he refuses to speak or look at me, but every once in a while his fingers squeeze a little tighter around mine.
“It’s okay, Nellie,” Knox says. “That boy is stupid if he doesn’t see your worth. That’s his fault, not yours.”
I squeeze his fingers and try to fight back the sobs, but I can’t do it. I know it’s not my fault, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less. It still feels like my heart is being ripped out through my chest. Knox doesn’t know what it feels like because his first love is his forever love. Him and Layla are going to be together forever, happily ever after, and it’s fucking disgusting.
They’re always all over each other, and I want that. “I want to be loved the way you love her. I want to be the first person someone wants to talk to when something happens, good or bad. I want to be the person-” I sniffle and gulp, swallowing down the lump in my throat so I can keep going, “- that someone calls when they need help or they just want to talk. I want- I want to feelwanted.”
Knox puts his arm around my neck and pulls me against his side, kissing the top of my head. “You’ll find it. I promise.”
My life has been a series of bad choices and heartbreaks. They say a girl looks for a man that will do what her dad didn’t, and I guess that’s true. I’m always looking for a man that willpay attentionto me, and I always find men that pay me attention in detrimental and toxic ways.
There’s attentiveness and then there's control. I don’t want someone to pay attention to me just so they know what to say to hurt me or so they know every little way I fuck up. I don’t want attention if the things they learn about me are going to be used to break me down over time. I want attention that gets me my favorite flowers on my birthday or even just someonerememberingmy fucking birthday.
“Knox,” I whisper, looking over at him. “Do you know when my birthday is?”
