Captured Love (The Crestwood University #3)

6. Knox

6

KNOX

C lank. The weights rattle as I rack them, my muscles screaming in protest. One more set. Push harder. Be better. Can't stop now.

I take a moment to catch my breath. By looking at me, you would think I just sprinted a mile or two. I wipe my face with my shirt, which is soaked through, then glance at the clock. I've been at this for two hours now, which is longer than my usual routine. But today isn't a usual day. Today, I need the distraction. I need the pain to drown out everything else.

I grab the bar again, knuckles white. Inhale. Brace. Lift. The burn rips through me, but I don't flinch. Pain is nothing new.

Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve.

With a grunt, I drop the weights, the crash echoing in the nearly empty gym. Bent over, I suck in air, lungs heaving, heart hammering against my ribs. When I finally straighten up, I catch my reflection in the mirror.

Sweat pours down my face, dripping off my chin and onto the mat under me. My short brown hair is plastered to my forehead. I look like hell, but there’s nothing quite like working out late in the evening just before the gym closes. There’s hardly anyone here, which means no one can bother me.

I stare at myself for a long moment. A bruise colors my jaw from practice yesterday. The scar under my jaw stands out, pale against my skin—a permanent reminder of the hit that nearly ended my career freshman year.

I touch it lightly, the skin still numb. That was the first time I realized how fragile all of this is. One moment you're on top, the next you're in an ambulance wondering if you'll ever play again.

A buzz from my phone pulls me out of my head. I wipe my hands on my towel and check the screen.

Tessa: Can we talk?

I clench my jaw involuntarily. Tessa. Why now? It’s been years since we broke up, and she’s never once tried to contact me even though we’ve been at the same college.

Ignoring the text, I make my way to the locker room. The tiled floor is cool against my burning skin as I strip off my soaked-through shirt and throw it in my duffel. I stand under a showerhead, but don't turn on the water yet. The silence hums in my ears.

I don’t want to deal with whatever mess Tessa is trying to bring to my front door. But I do want to know why she’s suddenly reaching out. The cautious part of my brain reminds me that dealing with her helped turn me into the asshole I am today. Yet, I hate leaving things unresolved.

Like I did with Selene.

That thought shocks me out of whatever paralysis my thoughts put me under. I turn the shower on, determined not only to wash away the grime from my workout, but thoughts of Tessa too.

The warm water washes away everything, including the images that are threatening to race through my mind. I finish up and dry myself off, the cold air biting into my skin. My body feels like jelly as I slip into a fresh t-shirt and sweatpants. I check my phone again; no new messages. I’m relieved that Tessa hasn't followed up because I don’t want to open that can of worms again.

I toss my bag over my shoulder and head out into the night. The air is crisp, a sharp contrast to the stifling heat of the gym. My car is one of the few left in the parking lot and as I slide into the driver's seat, my phone vibrates again. For a moment, I consider not looking just in case it’s Tessa. However, it could be my parents or one of my siblings reaching out as well.

I start my car and then unlock my phone.

Asher: Where r u?

Shit. I forgot Asher and Blaise were hanging out tonight and asked if I wanted to join. I can’t blow them off like I did Wilder the other night because it’s not like we were going out to a party and they are both more than likely sitting in our living room, watching a recap of all the latest sports news.

I put my car in drive and then tap on Asher's name.

“I'm on my way,” I say when he picks up. “Just finished at the gym.”

“Dude, you need to stop killing yourself,” Asher says. I can hear Blaise in the background but can’t make out what he is saying. “Come home. We got wings.”

“I'll be there in ten,” I say, then hang up before he can lecture me more about overtraining.

The drive through campus is quiet. Most students are either holed up in their dorms or out at the various bars nearby. As I pull onto our street, I think about Tessa again. What could she possibly want? An apology? Closure?

I slammed the door on all that years ago. Probably should have blocked her phone number then as well.

I find a parking spot a couple of houses away and turn my car off. I exit my vehicle and grab my duffel before I head to the house. The front door is unlocked, and I can hear the low murmur of the TV mixed with Asher and Blaise's voices. The smell of hot wings hits me, and my stomach growls. I realize I haven't eaten in a few hours and that needs to come to an end.

I stand in the doorway leading into the living room and find Asher and Blaise sitting on opposite ends of the couch. Blaise is holding a game controller while Asher is staring at him.

“I'm telling you, man, there's no way that move was legal,” Asher insists, gesturing to the tv screen.

Blaise smirks, shaking his head as he continues chewing. “Don't hate the player, hate the game. Not my fault you suck at—” He glances up, noticing me hovering in the doorway. “Well, look what the cat dragged in.”

I roll my eyes, dropping my bag by the door. “Didn't your mother ever teach you not to speak with your mouth full?”

Asher snorts and throws his head back. “She tried, but it didn't stick. Kind of like his last date.”

“Hey, that's rude!” Blaise sputters, indignant.

I collapse into the armchair, propping my feet up on the coffee table. Asher shoots me a look, but I ignore it, reaching for the plate of wings. There has to be more food somewhere because this isn’t going to fill me up.

“So what'd I miss?” I ask before taking a bite of the chicken.

Blaise shrugs, grabbing the controller. “Not much. Just Ash getting his ass handed to him. Again.”

“Screw you, man. I was distracted.” Asher chucks a pillow at him, which Blaise easily dodges.

“Yeah, yeah. Excuses, excuses.” Blaise grins, unpausing the game. “Ready for round two?”

The game starts again, and I find myself drawn into the drama unfolding on the screen. At least it can distract me from the shit that is going on in my life right now.

“Why were you at the gym so late anyway?” Asher asks. It’s then I realize that my hanging up on him on the way home wasn’t enough to stop his line of questioning. And knowing Blaise, he’ll double down on the inquisition.

I wipe my hands on a napkin that was left under the plate of wings, stalling for a moment. “Just trying to stay in shape. You know how it is.”

Asher leans back, crossing his arms over his chest. His gaze is more piercing than usual, like he's trying to see straight through me. “Yeah, but there's staying in shape and there’s working out to avoid shit.”

“I'm fine,” I say, perhaps a bit too sharply. The room goes quiet; even the hum of the television seems to dim. I sigh, trying to soften my tone. “Working out keeps my mind and body in check so I do it.”

Blaise pauses the game, and I can feel both of their eyes on me. Even when things got rough with Asher for a while, they were my boys and always will be. They’re supposed to understand this. Then again, how could they when I barely do?

“Knox,” Asher starts, but I cut him off.

“Seriously, I'm fine.” I lean back in the chair and stretch, trying to play it cool. “Just tired is all.”

Blaise shrugs and unpauses the game. The sounds of virtual carnage fill the room, but the sound of unanswered questions lingers. However, they both seem comfortable with giving me the space I crave.

My phone buzzes in my pocket again and I close my eyes for several seconds. I take it out slowly, almost dreading what I’ll see. The screen lights up and I confirm it’s the person I would rather not hear from again.

“Knox?” Asher’s voice pulls me from my thoughts.

I look up to see him staring at me. Blaise is focused on the game, but I can tell he’s listening too.

I shove the phone back in my pocket. “What?”

“You sure you’re okay?”

Fuck it. I can let them in on part of what is going on inside my brain. “Tessa, my ex from high school, texted me this evening.”

Asher's eyebrows shoot up, and Blaise momentarily loses his focus on the game, his character taking a fatal blow. He doesn't even bat an eye, which is a first.

“What does she want?” Asher asks cautiously. He knows the history, knows how deep that wound went—or still goes.

I rub the back of my neck. “I don't even know. She just said, 'Can we talk?’ and I’ve been ignoring her.”

Blaise sets the controller down, turning his full attention to me. “Are you going to respond?”

After a moment I say, “I don't think I should. There’s nothing but trouble there.”

“Probably best if you don't,” Asher agrees. “You don't need to go through all of that bull shit again. Wait… her name is Tessa?”

I know he's right and I know that means I’ve made the right choice. However the last part of his sentence made me do a double take. “Yes, why?”

Asher places the game controller down. “I saw her recently. Well, assuming that there aren’t a lot of women named Tessa around here.”

Wait what? I mean Crestwood’s campus isn’t enormous, but also…what? Blaise’s gaze is jumping between the two of us as if he can’t believe what he’s seeing or hearing.

I turn to Asher, confused. “Where?”

Asher hesitates for a moment, then shrugs. “At Isla's place. I went over there a few weeks ago to see her.”

And that's when it clicks. Isla is Tessa's roommate. How had I not put that together before? Isla is Selene's best friend, and Selene…

Fuck.