30. Knox
Chapter thirty
Knox
Rule #10: Respect your roommate's privacy.
I went up to an empty apartment, and it was the worst feeling I'd had in a very long time. No enormous beast of a dog greeted me. No lamb mewled. Gemma didn't assault me with some harebrained scheme for our evening. It was deathly quiet, and I wondered how I had endured it for so long.
I took off my shoes at the entrance. I made myself a post-workout smoothie, although the workout itself had gotten cut short, and Spencer had left with Arabella after I'd hung up with Gemma. I showered and got dressed in comfortable athletic pants and a T-shirt.
Then I stood in the middle of my room and wondered what the fuck I was doing. This wasn't right. This was Gemma's home just as much as it was mine, and the fact that she had felt chased from it burned in my gut like a swallowed cinder. I didn't care if it made me an overbearing bastard, but I had to get a hold of Gemma and tell her to come home. I wouldn't have her pushed out of her safe place. I could stay with Spencer or stay in a hotel for as long as Gemma needed, but I wasn't going to let her run.
That decided, I paced into my dark living room and called Ruth. She picked up on the second ring. "Hello?" she asked breathlessly.
I pulled the phone away from my ear and frowned at it before asking, "Ruth? Is that you?"
The sound of Cal groaning in the background preceded him shouting, "Make it stop! For God's sake!"
Apparently ignoring him, Ruth said, "Yes, hi, it's me. What's up, Dr. Rook?"
"Knox," I corrected. "Is Gemma there with you?"
"Oh, um," Ruth dithered nervously.
I sighed. "It's alright if she is, and I get if she swore you to secrecy. But I just want you to tell her—"
"No, no," Ruth rushed to assure me. "She was here, but she, um… Well, I wasn't expecting her. When she came—not came. When she got here, we—"
"She caught us fucking!" Cal interjected loudly.
I rolled my eyes. "Charming."
"I'm so embarrassed. I tried to apologize, but she stormed out before we could stop her."
Sighing, I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Any idea where she went?"
"Probably Emma's," Ruth said, and her voice became strained again before she squeaked.
I pulled a face. "First of all, stop… that. Whatever is going on over there. But secondly, who is Emma?"
"Her online friend," Ruth said, breathless again, but that time, I was pretty sure it was because she was trying to get away from Cal and his grabby hands. "They play Thornwind together, and Emma lives in Portland. I'm betting that would be the next person Gemma called. She's too cheap for hotels."
"Okay," I said, tapping my fingers on the island counter. "Any idea where this Emma person lives?"
"Uh, no," Ruth said with true regret in her voice. "Is she in trouble? Do we need to find her?"
"No," I hurried to say. "No, we just had a… misunderstanding. I don't want her to feel pushed out of her home, so I'm trying to get a hold of her."
"Good luck," Ruth said with sincerity. "I think she actually likes you."
I snorted. "More the fool her."
"Get off the phone or we're not friends anymore!" Cal shouted from the background.
"We're not friends," I shot back. I hung up and wondered what my next move was. A sane person would let that be that. Gemma hadn't called me or texted me, and I didn't want to harass her. But I also didn't want her to go to some online friend's house, either. That didn't sound safe. I should have taken more time to get to know her hobby, her friends, her interests. We'd gone from mild animosity to having sex and cuddling all the time, and I'd clearly skipped over some important steps.
Tapping my phone against my leg, I glanced at Gemma's computer setup. Emma wouldn't have texted her address over a game, would she? There was only one way to find out. I crossed the living room in three strides and then plunked myself down in her techy gaming chair. Impressed, I glanced down at it. It was nice . Maybe I needed one of these for my office.
Clicking her mouse, I brought the computer screen to life, and as I'd suspected, Gemma hadn't bothered to password-protect her computer. It was just very… her. Her home screen blipped to life, and I scanned the desktop for Thornwind. It was a little purple icon with a sword and a wand crossed, and I double-clicked it to start up the game. Sure as shit, it logged her in immediately, and a home screen with dragons, wizards, and knights played out in an animation while I looked for a messages tab. I found it easily—the interface was surprisingly user-friendly—and I searched the names of people she'd messaged.
Dimly, I was aware that this was an enormous breach of privacy. Also, I was acting crazy. But I didn't care. My instincts were telling me to find Gemma, so that's what I was doing. I clicked on the conversation with Emmaculate94. Right there, front and center, were their last two messages.
GemsNlace178576:
address?
Emmaculate94:
Here’s the link to my location.
"Got it," I muttered to myself. I turned to say something to Mini, only to find that she wasn't there. I rubbed my eyes. "You have lost it, Rook. Totally lost it. You just tried to talk to a dog."
Silence greeted that statement. Yeah, I had to fix this. It just wasn't acceptable.
And if I showed up at this place and Gemma yelled at me for stalking her, then I'd back off. But at the very least, I had to make sure she knew this was her home and she didn't have to run from it. If she wanted to run from me, so be it. I'd stay as far away as she wanted for as long as she asked. But I'd be damned if Gemma was forced out of her own home because of my stupidity.
And really, that was what it had been. Stupidity and an enormous, stinking heap of selfish desire for revenge. I'd played the game to win it, and I hadn't given a thought to Gemma's autonomy or voice in the matter. It had been pig-headed and unacceptably shortsighted of me. I wouldn't blame Gemma if she didn't forgive me, but the least I could do was make sure her entire life wasn't upended because of me.
Besides, Mini would be devastated in a kennel she didn't know. I hated that idea, too. Pumpkin probably had no idea what the fuck was going on, as per usual.
I dug out my winter coat from the back of the closet, studiously ignoring the silk bag with the rope and doing my best not to remember that night I'd found Gemma tying herself up. I'd been so tickled by the whole thing that I had to wonder if that had been the moment I'd started to really fall for her.
But no, I thought as I put on my coat, grabbed my wallet and keys, and beelined it for the elevator—it had been well before that. Well before I'd even realized it was happening. My jealousy over Spencer salivating over her had been mere days since her moving in. My desire to be around her all the time had only intensified from there, and if I was entirely honest with myself, I'd been thinking about her before she'd even gotten roped into living with me.
My infatuation with Gemma Daise had been there a much longer time. And I was a moron for not having seen it. Maybe if I had realized it sooner, I would have handled this whole debacle differently. I wouldn't have thought so much about getting out of my mother's schemes and worried more about getting into something real with Gemma. If that had been my focus, this whole night wouldn't have happened.
I drove in silence, ruminating over my follies and thinking of ways to do better. I accepted that Gemma might need time from me, and there wasn't anything I could do about that. But I could care for her in other ways. I could make sure she never worried about where she would live to the point that she signed some phony lease, and I could, at the very least, make some things right.
As I was thinking about her damn sheep and the very real possibility that she was going to "acquire" more animals at some point—thus necessitating more room that I should plan for now—a text came through on my phone. My eyebrows shot up in surprise when I realized it was from Gemma.
She had shared her location. And the rest was gibberish.
My pulse skyrocketed, and a deep sense of foreboding ran through my body with a chill. That wasn't right. None of this was right. My instincts had been screaming at me all night, and this only solidified what I'd been feeling. Something was off. Gemma was not safe.
I stepped on the gas.