Chapter 16
My brain was on fire.
I punched him.
I punched Andrew Knox in the face.
And then he kissed me. And I kissed him back.
I kissed Andrew Knox. We kissed.
The hallway felt too small, the fluorescent lights too bright. Andrew was still standing there, hands at his sides now, expression unreadable. We’d just broken apart, both of us breathing hard, and now he was just. . . staring at me.
Like he was trying to solve an equation that didn’t make sense.
My thoughts spiraled.
I punched my boss. At a charity gala. And then he—we—
Was he even gay?
He had to be gay, right? You didn’t kiss someone like that if you weren’t—
Or maybe it was just the adrenaline. The heat of the moment. Maybe he was just caught up in—
No. That kiss wasn’t accidental. That kiss was deliberate.
Which meant Andrew Knox was gay.
Or bi.
Or something.
And I’d just punched him and then kissed him back and this was a disaster of epic proportions.
I needed to fix this.
“I’ll quit.”
The words came out steady. Calm. Like I’d already made the decision. Like it was the only logical conclusion.
Knox’s expression changed. Fast.
“The fuck are you talking about?”
“I crossed a line, Mr. Knox.” I kept my voice measured, professional. Already resigned. “Multiple lines. I punched you, and then you, then we—I won’t put you in that position. I’ll call the agency in the morning—”
“Are you fucking kidding me right now?”
I stopped.
Andrew stared at me. “Mr. Knox? You’re calling me Mr. Knox after I just had my tongue down your throat?”
My face went nuclear.
“I was trying to be—”
“Professional?” He stepped closer, not crowding but closing the distance I’d tried to create. His eyes were dark, intense, locked on mine. “Newsflash, Quinn. That ship has fucking sailed. You don’t get to kiss me back like that and then call me Mr. Knox. It’s Andrew now.”
“Andrew,” I managed, and his expression shifted into something satisfied.
“Better. Matthew.” He was still too close. “Now stop talking about quitting. Do you think I’d let you quit because I kissed you?”
My heart stuttered. “You—what?”
“I kissed you, Matthew. I kissed you first.” His voice was firm. Final. “So if anyone crossed a line, it was me.”
“But I punched you—”
“Yeah, you did. While trying to defend my honor or some shit?” His jaw worked, and I could see the hint of a red mark where my fist had connected. “Which was stupid as hell, by the way.”
“I assaulted my boss—”
“You were aiming for someone else. I got in the way.” He said it like it was simple. Like it didn’t matter. “And then I pulled you out here and kissed you. That’s on me.”
I stared at him. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go.
“Andrew—”
“It’s weird that you work for me, so we need to fix that.” His voice was flat, absolute.
I nodded. I expected this. Of course I did. It was the only professional response, the only boundary that made sense.
But then he added: “But you don’t get to quit because of it.”
The air left my lungs.
“It would be easier if I go.”
“Easier for who?”
I didn’t have an answer.
Andrew reached out, his hand wrapping around my wrist—carefully, avoiding my swollen knuckles. Not tight. Not pulling. Just there. Warm and steady and impossible to ignore.
“Andrew, you just—we just—” I couldn’t finish. My thoughts were still tangled, spinning. “Are you—”
I stopped. Couldn’t ask it.
“Am I what?” His blue eyes were steady on mine.
“Gay?” The word came out barely above a whisper.
“Yeah,” he said simply. “I am.”
Oh.
Oh.
“Does anyone else—”
“I don’t broadcast it.” He said it matter-of-factly. “But I’m not hiding either. I just don’t think it’s anyone’s business who I fuck. Most of the guys on the team know. The league, the press, the fans—they don’t have a right to know. So I don’t tell them.”
I nodded slowly, processing.
“It’s not about shame,” he continued, like he needed me to understand this. “It’s about boundaries. People think because I’m a public figure, they’re entitled to every part of my life. But they’re not. This part?” He gestured vaguely between us. “This is mine. Private. And it stays that way.”
I nodded quickly. “Of course. I wouldn’t—”
“I know.” His grip on my wrist loosened slightly.
We stood there in the fluorescent-lit hallway, and I tried to process everything.
Andrew Knox was gay.
Andrew Knox had kissed me.
Andrew Knox was asking me to stay.
“There’s a charity dinner happening,” he said, his voice gentler now. “A charity I actually give a shit about. And you’re the only reason I haven’t lost my mind in that room yet.”
I swallowed hard.
“So here’s what’s going to happen,” he continued. “You’re going to pull yourself together. We’re going to go back in there. You’re going to do your job, I’m going to do mine, and we’re going to get through this night.”
“And after?”
“After, we figure it out.”