30. Chapter 30
It had been only a few weeks since the accident, and Knox still wouldn’t talk about it. At least not to me. It was agonizing. I knew he was hurting, but I couldn’t seem to do a damn thing about it. So, instead, I danced around it.
“Pasta OK tonight? I bought spaghetti and rigatoni.” I held up the boxes as I unloaded grocery bags in the kitchen. I turned to face Knox, who was sitting in the nook at the window in the living room of our apartment, just looking out.
“Hello! Anybody home?”
“Yeah, sorry. Whatever you make is fine,” he responded coolly, not looking over to me.
Okayyyy. “I’m feeling rigatoni,” I said. “I bought some pesto sauce at the store.”
“Cool,” he said, before getting up walking into the bedroom.
I hated the awkwardness that existed between us. I didn’t know what he needed or wanted. Space? An embrace? Should I let him come to me on his own terms, or should I crowd him? I knew it wasn’t about me, but his lifelessness was killing me, too.
I lightly rapped my knuckles on the open door before entering the bedroom. Knox had his back to me, putting freshly folded clothes away in a dresser drawer. Looking over his shoulder at me, he gave me a light smile. “It’s your room, too, you know. You don’t have to knock.”
I looked at my hands before looking back up at him. “I know. I was just … Actually, I don’t know what I’m doing.”
The comment deflated Knox, who turned and leaned back against the dresser, his hands resting on the dark wood on either side of his hips. “I’m sorry,” he breathed.
Shit.“I didn’t mean that as an accusation. It was more of a confession, I guess.”
It was silent for a beat.
“You know I’m here for you, right? I mean, I know you know that. And I’m not trying to pressure you to talk to me. It’s just, in case it hasn’t been clear, you’re the same Knox to me. The guy I married. There’s nothing you could do or say to change that for me.”
He surprised me with a light chuckle, looking at his feet before into my eyes. “See, that’s the thing, Lizzie. I’m not the same Knox. I’m very, very much a different guy.”
Double shit.This was not going well. “I know that, I just—”
“You don’t know. Stop trying to understand or sympathize because you can’t. Did you ever think that maybe I don’t want you trying to make me feel better? Maybe I just want to bask in a little bit of torment to give myself a tiny glimpse of what that poor woman probably feels?”
I knew he was talking about the woman he hit.
“Why can’t anyone just let me fucking be? The guys from work keep telling me, ‘Deep breaths, brother. We’re here for you, man.’ Maybe I don’t want them here for me! Maybe I don’t want you here for me.”
He pushed away from the desk and scraped his nails through his shaggy hair.
I also pushed away from the doorframe I had been leaning on. “That’s fine, Knox. I can give you that. You want space to wallow and find more ways to hate yourself? You got it. Can’t say I blame you. But I’m never going to let you think you deserve a lifetime of torture for what happened.”
“Just stop it,” he bit out. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’re right. I don’t. And for some reason, I will keep taking your abuse for however long you need to dish it out to come to terms with this terrible situation you’ve been handed. So keep swinging, I’m not going anywhere … Other than the kitchen, because I’m a little winded from this beating, at the moment.”
As I turned on my heel to leave, tears threatening to spill from the corners of my eyes, I heard Knox curse as he wrapped a hand around my upper arm and swung me around and into his arms, crashing into his chest.
“I’m sorry, Lizzie. I’m so sorry. You don’t deserve this.”
“Neither do you,” I said into his shirt. “And don’t even say that you do, because you don’t.”
His hands came around each side of my neck as he placed his forehead against mine. “I know I don’t deserve you,” he said, his lips and breath teasing my mouth as he spoke, my body tingling at the tiniest glimpse of the old Knox shining through.
As he leaned into my lips, I pulled away ever so slightly, then looked up and locked eyes with him. Challenging him. He hesitated for barely a beat before he crushed his lips to mine. It was almost painful. I stood on my tiptoes as he continued his assault, and I pulled his shirt and torso as close to me as I could possibly get.
Knox spun us around and walked me backward until my legs hit the bed, and we tumbled onto it, him putting his hands out to brace himself over me. Then they were on my body. One hand snaked up my shirt and around my back as the other wound its way around my ass and hiked my leg up over his hip.
It was my turn to take his face in my hands as we devoured each other. We hadn’t been intimate since the accident, and his touch all over my body felt like a dam breaking.
He inched my shirt up and over my head, then helped me do the same with his. With our chests and stomachs flush, skin touching skin, he kissed and licked and sucked his way down my neck to the hollow of my throat. I groaned as I slid my hands down his stomach to his crotch, seeking that familiar bulge.
But it wasn’t there.
I tried to give him a little more to get him turned on. I palmed his groin with one hand while I reached up with the other and pulled the cups of my bra down, my breasts popping out. When he locked his mouth around one and cupped the other in his hand, I moaned and arched my back, pushing myself further into him. I started rocking my hips against his groin, whispering to let him know how turned on I was.
But still nothing.
Feeling the change in the air around us, Knox rested forehead against mine. We were both panting, still skin to skin, but it was like someone had doused us with ice water.
“You know it’s not you, right?” he broke the silence.
“I know, Knox,” I answered, running my fingers down the side of his face.
“I want to. God, I want to. I’m not sure how it’s even possible to be so horny and yet my dick just won’t get on the same page.”
“You’ve got a lot on your mind. It’s understandable.” I pulled away from him and sat up to push my breasts back into my bra.
As I started to stand and pull my shirt back on, Knox turned to sit on the edge of the bed, eyeing me. “I kinda feel like a piece of shit, right now,” he said.
I tossed his shirt to him. “Don’t. Please. That’s the last thing I wanted to happen. We probably shouldn’t have tried to—”
“What? Make love? Bullshit, Lizzie. Because I do love you. You know that, right?”
For hell’s sake, this man was breaking my heart. “Of course, I know that,” I replied as he reached out to grab my hand and pull me to stand between his knees.
“I’m lucky to have you. Fuck, more than lucky,” he said, looking up at me, eyes glistening. Then, in barely a whisper—a plea, “Don’t give up on me.”
“I won’t,” I said immediately. Then decided to make one last suggestion. “Why don’t you talk to Jenny?” I turned away and looked into the mirror above the dresser as I pulled my hair up into a ponytail.
“Jenny?”
“Sure. I mean, she was in the car, too. Maybe she has some other perspective of that night.”
I locked eyes in the mirror with Knox, who was still sitting on the bed behind me. “Uh, yeah. I guess …” He ran his hand through his hair. “I guess I could bring it up one day.”
He got up, pressed a kiss to my shoulder, and headed out the door. “I’ll put water on for the pasta,” he said as he left me standing there.
After dinner, I told Lizzie I had to run back to a job site to make sure something was secure. She nodded and waved me off as she continued transcribing something on her laptop at the table, readjusting her earbuds.
It was another lie and caused me to fall deeper into the depths of self-hatred I hadn’t been able to climb out of the past several weeks. Why I couldn’t just tell her where I was really headed, I don’t know. It was something I pondered as I drove back to the scene of the accident.
As I often did, I parked on the side of the road, then sat on the curb, elbows on my knees, hands clasped in front of me, as I thought about all the things that lead up to the accident, and what I would change, if I could. I certainly wouldn’t have run to Jenny’s rescue that night.
Since the crash, I couldn’t stop feeling like I was dragging Lizzie down. I was in a funk, and I could see how sad it made her that I couldn’t snap out of it. She was not as sassy and vibrant as she once was, and earlier in the day when I couldn’t even respond to her …
Ever since we got together I have been turned on by that woman. Her body, her brain, her wit and sass, kindness and honesty … And the look on her face when I couldn’t reciprocate and satisfy her the way she deserved—the way she needed me at that moment—haunted me.
That’s what I was. Haunted.
After about an hour of feeling bad for myself and running through thoughts that went nowhere, I went back to our apartment. I found Lizzie curled up on the couch with a blanket and The Walking Dead playing on TV, which she was missing because she was sound asleep. Kennedy was curled up on her legs, also fast asleep.
I pressed a kiss to her temple then went into the bedroom, where I peeled off my clothes and got under the covers in my boxers, feeling all alone in our big bed by myself. But I couldn’t help feeling it was what I deserved.