Chapter Two
Knox
I never thought I’d come back to Hope Peak. The last time I rode out of this town, I was an angry kid with a chip on my shoulder and the law on my tail, convinced that leaving was the only way to survive. Now here I was, well before sunrise, unlocking the door to my own motorcycle shop while the golden glow of dawn spread across the snowcapped mountains. The morning air was cold enough to sting my lungs, but it felt cleaner than any breath I’d taken in the past few years.
I climbed a narrow set of stairs to the small apartment above the shop, each step echoing in the empty silence. The space up there wasn’t much more than a kitchenette, a couple of old wooden doors leading to two tiny bedrooms, and a cramped bathroom with questionable plumbing. But it beat the hell out of where Linzie and I grew up—our folks’ neglected house that reeked of stale cigarettes and hopelessness. At least here, my sister had her own room, privacy, and the promise of a clean slate.
“You better not be late again,” I called up the hallway, balancing a paper bag of pastries in one hand and jingling my keys in the other. Linzie’s bedroom door slammed in response, the sharp crack cutting through the early-morning quiet. Teenage attitude was loud, but it was better than the haunted silence she’d clung to when we were kids. That memory—of finding her hiding in our closet, knees to her chest while our dad raged in the next room—still left a bitter taste in my mouth.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. Aunt Shawna. She’d been calling almost daily since I took Linzie off her hands, likely out of guilt or maybe just a need for updates. She wasn’t much older than me, barely had her own life together, but at least she’d cared enough to reach out when Linzie started spiraling. It was the call that dragged me back to this town I once swore I’d never see again.
“Your sister’s out of control,” Aunt Shawna’s voice had trembled on the phone. “Skipping school, failing everything. I can’t…I can’t handle her, Knox. Not like you can.”
I’d let out a half-laugh at the irony. Me, the family screw-up, back to play responsible guardian? I’d spent half my life running from authority, from cops, from any sense of obligation. But prison changed things. Three years locked up was a long time to face your mistakes. Especially when Pastor Vic started dropping by your cell every week with that calm, knowing look, telling you that you still had a future worth salvaging.
“God’s got bigger plans for you, son,” he’d say, helping me with my GED workbooks. The small engine repair certification had been his idea, too—“Channel that energy into something productive, Knox.” And so I did, eventually learning how to fix bikes instead of stealing them, how to make an honest living instead of feeding my anger.
Linzie clomped down the hallway, wearing the same oversized hoodie she’d worn for the past week. “I hate school,” she muttered, not meeting my eyes as she tugged the hood further over her head.
“Yeah? Well, I hate seeing my kid sister throw away her chances.” I handed her a granola bar from the paper bag. “You’re smarter than me. You just don’t know it yet.”
She rolled her eyes but took the breakfast, which I counted as progress. Some days, that was all I got.
By the time we rolled my bike out of the garage and onto the street, the sun had fully risen, and the crisp mountain air bit through my leather jacket. Hope Peak looked the same—tidy storefronts, weathered wooden porches, and a sprinkling of lingering holiday decorations here and there. But for all its postcard charm, this town never forgot a scandal. People still whispered about my folks, about how they ended up in prison themselves, about the trouble I got into before I finally vanished. I felt their stares sometimes, though they pretended not to see me.
Linzie hopped on the back of my bike, and we rode in silence toward the school. She gripped my jacket with her free hand, her body stiff as though ready to jump off at any moment. I could practically taste her tension, the same restlessness I’d once felt riding these roads on my own, convinced that nobody in this world gave a damn if I made it or not.
When we pulled up in front of Hope Peak Middle School, a few kids milled around in the yard, laughing or huddled over their phones. Nobody paid us much attention, but I noticed a couple of parents shooting me wary looks. I tried to ignore it, focusing instead on handing Linzie her backpack. She shrugged it on and mumbled something that might have been “thanks,” then trudged off without a goodbye. Still, I caught a flicker of emotion in her eyes—something torn between resentment and relief.
As I watched her go, I caught sight of a different figure in the crowd. Caroline Belle. Gone was the shy bookworm who used to bury her nose in novels. Instead, the Caroline I saw now had grown into a woman who wore her curves with a quiet confidence in a way that made my chest feel tight. I remembered her always daydreaming but rarely speaking. It made sense that she’d become a teacher. She radiated kindness and warmth, the kind I hadn’t known much of in my life.
I tried not to stare. Really, I did. But there was something about her that made it hard to look away. I revved the engine once more—an old habit that used to intimidate people—but Caroline glanced over as if drawn by the sound. Our gazes locked, and for one tense second, her eyes widened. Then she offered me a small, hesitant smile. Before I could return it, Linzie tugged on her sleeve, pulling Caroline’s attention. So I let out a breath, pulling the bike back into gear, and left the parking lot, heart thudding.
Mid-morning, while I was elbow-deep in engine grease at my shop, my phone buzzed with a text from Ryder: “You coming to Skyline tonight? Catch up with the old crew?” A wave of memory hit me—those nights we used to prowl around, looking for trouble. Now Ryder was a wilderness guide and dating Tessa from what I’d gleaned in the short time since being back, and Levi owned the Skyline Bar & Grill. I wondered if they ever looked back, the way I did, regretting the things we couldn’t undo. Then again, maybe they didn’t have the same mistakes clinging to them like tattoos and mug shots.
I spent the afternoon doing oil changes, messing with carburetors, and reminding myself that every bike I fixed was another step away from the kid I’d been. That life of gangs and petty crime caught up with me eventually—armed robbery, a short-lived attempt to get quick cash, had led to me being cuffed in front of everyone who ever said I wouldn’t amount to anything. Prison might have broken me if not for Pastor Vic, who insisted on seeing potential beneath my anger. The fading “La Vida Loca” on my chest had been reworked into a cross, and the MC club marks on my neck were slowly evolving into biblical verses and symbols of a life I was trying to reclaim. New ink might not erase my sins, but it helped remind me how far I’d come.
By the time the clock read seven, I’d closed up the shop and found myself outside the Skyline Bar & Grill. The neon sign buzzed overhead. I took a breath before stepping inside, unsure what kind of reception I’d get. The place was already alive with chatter and the warm smell of fried food. Levi stood behind the bar, shooting me a familiar grin the moment he saw me.
“Look what the mountain dragged in!” he called, coming around to greet me with a back-slapping hug. “Damn, prison must’ve had you pumping iron every day.”
“Had to do something with my time,” I replied, settling onto a barstool and noticing how a few nearby patrons slid their chairs away from me, just an inch or two. Old habits, old reputations.
Ryder appeared minutes later, looking at once familiar and strangely more content than the wild kid I remembered. I heard Tessa’s name mentioned, saw the way his face lit up, and realized that maybe love could do that to a person—turn the hardest edge soft.
“Knox,” he said, extending a hand. “Good to see you on the outside.”
“Thanks to Pastor Vic,” I replied with a small shrug, accepting the beer Levi slid over.
Levi leaned on the bar, crossing his arms. “So, I heard you’re setting up shop in the old Peterson garage?”
I nodded, sipping my drink. “Figured it was time to go straight. Fixing bikes, paying taxes, trying not to ruffle too many feathers.”
Ryder grinned. “If you need any local contacts, Tessa and I can help spread the word. Folks pass through her bookshop all the time.”
“Appreciate that,” I said, genuinely touched by their acceptance. We fell into a comfortable conversation—Ryder talked about his business leading wilderness tours in the mountains, Levi mused about expanding the bar’s menu, and I offered bits and pieces about the shop. It felt good, normal. For a little while, I forgot about the stares, the whispers, the guilt that still hovered around me.
Later, as the crowd thinned and Ryder headed home, Levi leaned in with a conspiratorial smile. “Saw you at the school,” he said, voice low. “And Caroline Belle.”
My gut twisted at the memory of her gentle smile, the way she’d seemed genuinely invested in helping Linzie. “She’s Linzie’s English teacher,” I replied carefully. “Different from high school. More…confident.”
Raising an eyebrow, Levi smirked. “She used to watch you in study hall, you know. You were too busy being a hellraiser to notice, but man, she had it bad for you.”
I nearly choked on my beer. “That’s—impossible.” Whereas Caroline was known for her straight A’s and perfect attendance, I was the kid skipping class to smoke behind the gym.
“People change,” Levi said, wiping down the counter. “Look at me. Owning a bar, hosting fundraisers, keeping trouble to a minimum. Look at you—fresh out of prison and running a legit business. And Caroline? She’s come into her own, too.”
I turned his words over in my mind, recalling how she looked when I stopped by the school this morning. The way her sweater fit as though it had been made just for her, and her gentle, friendly smile. Something about her made me want to be a better man, if only to earn the right to see that smile again.
“Linzie’s lucky,” I found myself saying, wanting to change the subject but still talk about Caroline. “She notices things. Mentioned maybe I should look into some support for Linzie, academically speaking.”
Levi’s expression grew thoughtful. “Caroline’s always been the observant one,” he said. “She helped Tessa a lot with the bookstore’s reading program, too. If anyone can crack that shell of Linzie’s, it’s Caroline.”
The night ended quietly, with Levi giving me a pat on the back and telling me to keep at it. “You’re doing right by her, coming back,” he said. “Not everyone would step up like this.”
I left with a swirl of emotions in my chest—gratitude for my old friends not shutting me out, shame at the memory of all the damage I’d done before leaving, and a strange anticipation I couldn’t fully explain. Walking outside, I noticed the moon illuminating the empty lot across from the bar. I stood there for a moment, letting the crisp winter air fill my lungs, telling myself I was strong enough to face the ghosts of my past and build something better for Linzie’s sake.
The next day, I found myself at Hope Peak Middle School again, dropping Linzie off. But instead of taking off immediately, I lingered in the parking lot, leaning against my bike as if I were waiting for something—or someone. Sure enough, Caroline stepped out a few minutes later, carrying a stack of folders. She froze for a moment when she spotted me, then offered a tentative smile. My pulse kicked up, and it took me a second to remember to smile back.
“Hi,” she said when she reached me, balancing the folders against her hip.
I jerked my chin toward the school’s entrance. “Linzie said you wanted to talk?”
She nodded, gesturing for me to follow her inside. “Just about her progress in class. She’s turning in her assignments—sometimes. But I can tell she’s bright, maybe even ahead in certain areas. There’s just… something holding her back and I haven’t been able to put my finger on what it is.”
I swallowed, reminded of the times I’d struggled in these very hallways, constantly shutting people out. “Yeah,” I said quietly. “That something might be our childhood.”
Caroline’s eyes softened. “I’m sure. I just wanted to see if maybe we could figure out a plan—extra reading, projects, or if you’d be open to letting her stay after school for help.”
“Absolutely,” I said, the word leaving my mouth before I could overthink it. “I’ll do anything to keep her on track.”
“Great,” she replied, and her smile was so genuine I felt a tug somewhere deep in my chest. “I really believe everyone deserves a fair shot.”
Something about the way she said “everyone” made my pulse jump. For a split second, I wondered if she meant me, too—if, in her eyes, I wasn’t just the cautionary tale of Hope Peak but a man capable of something more.
We were standing too close in that quiet corridor, the muffled sounds of students echoing from nearby classrooms. The warmth in her gaze made me forget the reasons I had no business looking at her that way. My mind conjured memories of high school: me, angry at the world, and her, hidden behind a battered textbook. Now here we were, face to face, grown-ups in a place that once felt too small to contain us.
“Everyone deserves a second chance,” Caroline said, echoing the same sentiment she’d voiced before. The gentle conviction in her voice made it sound like a promise.
I cleared my throat, trying to break the tension swirling between us. “Yeah…maybe so. Thanks for looking out for Linzie.”
“Of course,” she said softly, the corner of her mouth quirking into a half-smile. “I’ll see you around, Knox.”
I stepped back, giving a slight nod before turning on my heel. As I headed toward the exit, my heart thumped in a way I wasn’t used to. Hope Peak might remember me as the kid who rode away in handcuffs, but Caroline Belle looked at me like I was more than my rap sheet. And that realization filled me with equal parts hope and dread.
Because if I let myself believe in second chances, if I let myself get close to someone who deserved far better than a guy with a past like mine—I’d either have to prove I wasn’t beyond saving or risk breaking her faith in me altogether. And God help me, I wasn’t sure which one scared me more.