Chapter 8
Chapter 8
Eliza
As a few weeks slipped by, Knox and I found a rhythm that felt almost comfortable, almost normal. He would text me daily, his messages a blend of humor, flirtation, and the occasional deep dive into our lives and dreams.
I’d had a long heart to heart with my butterflies. I decided to take things as slowly as I possibly could. Our dates became a regular occurrence, each ending with a kiss that lingered a little longer, held a little more promise. Our hands roamed more freely each time. There was that public incident in the booth at his club, but I never ended up back at his place, and I never invited him in. Knox was so patient, his respect for my pace in our new relationship real, but his desire for more was always there. And I was always fighting my own desires for him.
The house finally quieted down, leaving only the soft whisper of the night as I gently tucked Emma into bed. She clutched her stuffy, as she called the stuffed purple kitty, tightly, her eyelids fluttering closed under my watchful gaze. I kissed her forehead softly and tiptoed out of her room, closing the door behind me with a gentle click.
In the living room, Birdie was nestled on the couch, a mug of tea cradling her hands. She looked up as I reentered, her large eyes and her small frame making her look like her namesake. Her expression shifted from relaxed to questioning. “So, you haven’t told him about Mark yet?” she asked, picking up from our previous conversation.
Sighing, I sank into the armchair across from her. “No, I haven’t. It just… it hasn’t come up, and things with Knox haven’t gotten too serious yet.”
Birdie’s eyebrows shot up, her skepticism clear. “Not that serious? Eliza, you’re dating an outlaw biker. And you haven’t… you know?”
Shaking my head, I felt a blush heat my cheeks. “No, we haven’t slept together.”
“Really?” Birdie set her mug down, clearly intrigued. “That’s not what you’d expect from a biker. Are you sure there’s not something wrong with him?”
I mulled over her words, playing with a strand of my hair. “Maybe, but it doesn’t feel like that. He’s respectful, not pushing for anything. Sometimes I wonder if…” My voice trailed off, my thoughts clouded with self-doubt.
“If what?” Birdie urged, her tone gentle.
“If maybe he’s not more adamant because of how I look.” My voice was a whisper now, burdened with insecurities. “You know, because I’m too… curvy.”
Birdie’s face softened, her eyes warm with understanding. She reached out and took my hand. “Eliza, you are beautiful, and anyone worth a damn should see that. Knox seems like a decent guy. Maybe he genuinely cares about you and isn’t just rushing to get you into bed.”
I nodded, wanting to embrace her perspective. “Yeah, maybe you’re right. It’s just hard sometimes, you know? You should see the ladies at the club.”
“I know.” She squeezed my hand, her smile reassuring. “Maybe I should come one night. You can introduce me to a biker.”
Birdie was stunning, but she was nothing like the women at the bar, either. “Maybe you should, so you can see what I’m talking about. And he’s talked of sleeping with tons of women there. How can he go from that to just one me?” I gestured to myself.
“Stop that,” she barked.
“Okay, I’m done feeling sorry for myself. But I never expected him to be so patient. I guess I’m chicken and I need someone demanding I give in.”
“Give it time. I’m sure you’re the one holding him back.”
I nodded, knowing it was true. “Knox has been… a gentleman. Just like I asked, actually. Except that one time.”
“Spill it,” she demanded.
“He fingered me at the clubhouse in a booth,” I said in a rush.
“In public?” Birdie asked, her eyebrows dancing.
“Yep. The place was packed, too. I don’t know what came over me.”
“Shit, Eliza. That’s fucking hot. How could you think he doesn’t want you? Hell, I’ve fucked guys for years who wouldn’t even look at me in public.”
“You’re right.”
“And talk to him about Mark as soon as you can before the creep rears his ugly head.”
After seeing Birdie out and locking the door behind her, I stood alone in the quiet of my living room, replaying our conversation. Knox had shown me a side of himself that was truly unexpected, defying the rough exterior and the world he was part of. Perhaps I didn’t need to be so careful. Maybe it was okay to let my guard down a bit.
That night, as I lay in bed, my thoughts drifted to Knox—not as the biker with a wild past, but as the man who might just be the unexpected gentleman in my life. And for the very first time in a while, I allowed myself to feel cautiously optimistic about what might lie ahead for me and Emma. I thought of scheduling some time out with him, Emma and me and, more than that, thought it was high time I invited him into my house for the night.
The next evening, during a brisk fall afternoon at a school fundraising event, I was manning the bake sale booth, handing out slices of cake and cookies to supportive parents, when I noticed Knox weaving through the crowd toward me. His smile was that of a man completely at ease in my environment until his gaze locked onto a figure approaching me from the opposite direction—my ex-husband, Mark.
Mark’s presence at school functions was always sporadic and unpredictable, much like everything else about him. I had never mentioned him to Knox, unsure how to explain the messy threads of my past. And I certainly never told Mark about him, though I was sure he’d heard about Knox. As Mark neared, his eyes narrowed, not on me, but on Knox. The air between the two men charged immediately, a silent standoff before a single word was even spoken.
“Knox, this is Mark,” I said, my voice tight with tension. “My ex-husband,” I had to add because I hadn’t even mentioned his name before.
Knox’s jaw set, his eyes never leaving Mark. “Heard a lot about you,” Knox lied, his tone even but cold as he looked at me. I hadn’t uttered a word to him about Mark.
Mark scoffed, his eyes glinting with disdain. “Oh, really? Hear you’re the town’s charity biker. What’s Eliza telling you? How I’m the bad guy in her perfect little world? That I hurt her?”
Knox stepped a bit closer, his stance protective. “She didn’t need to tell me anything. I can see it for myself.”
Mark laughed, a harsh sound that drew a few curious glances from nearby parents. “You think you know her? You bikers are all the same, playing the hero.”
“You have no idea who you’re dealing with,” Knox warned him.
The situation escalated as Mark took a step closer, puffing up his chest, invading Knox’s personal space. “Stay away from my family,” he hissed.
Knox’s response was swift, his voice a controlled growl. “Eliza ain’t your property, and she sure as hell ain’t your family, not anymore. And if you ever speak to her or treat her with disrespect…”
Mark cut him off, jabbing a finger in Knox’s chest. “Or what? You’ll hit me? Go ahead, biker, show everyone here who you really are.”
The challenge hung heavy in the air. Knox’s hands balled into fists and a vein popped out of his forehead. I stepped forward, placing a hand on Knox’s arm. “Knox, please, not here. Let’s just go.”
Knox took a profound breath, his gaze never leaving Mark, but he nodded, allowing me to lead him away. The confrontation left a sour taste in my mouth, a swirl of embarrassment and fear—fear of what Mark might do next, and fear of how this glimpse into my past life would affect what Knox and I were trying to build. As we walked away, the tightness in Knox’s shoulders spoke volumes of the storm that had just passed and the storms that might still be on the horizon.
Frustration an ocean between us, I led a fuming Knox to my car, and he took the driver’s side before I could. His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, knuckles white, as if he could channel his frustration through the leather as we drove away.
“Knox, thank you for standing up for me, but that was too much,” I said, my voice strained from the confrontation.
“I don’t understand,” he replied tersely, not looking at me as he drove. “You never mentioned that your ex was… like that. That he was still around. That he was such an asshole. Why didn’t you tell me anything about him?”
“I didn’t think I needed to bring up every painful detail of my past so early on,” I said, my frustration growing. “Mark has his issues, but—”
“Eliza, he’s clearly more than just an issue,” Knox interrupted, his voice rising. “He’s aggressive, and from the way he talked, it sounded like—he hurt you?”
“Yeah, he was abusive, Knox,” I interjected, my voice suddenly small, admitting more than I had intended. “But that’s over now. He’s never hurt Emma, and he’s trying to get better. He’s in recovery for his gambling addiction, for alcoholism.”
Knox’s expression shifted from anger to confusion and then to concern. “Abusive? Eliza, how can you even think about letting him near Emma?”
“Because he’s her father,” I shot back, my own anger flaring. “Believe me, I’ve been the one fighting in court for custody. And as much as I hate him, he’s never laid a hand on her. I wouldn’t let him ever see her if I thought he would.”
Knox was quiet for a moment, his jaw working as if thinking over his next words carefully. “It’s none of my business, huh?” he finally said, his voice soft but edged with a hurt that deepened the distance between us.
“It isn’t,” I said firmly, meeting his gaze. “I appreciate your concern, but these are my hard decisions. You can’t just storm into my life and think you can take control.”
Knox looked away, staring out the windshield. “How did he hurt you, Eliza?”
I blew out a long breath. “In every way imaginable, mentally, emotionally, physically. You name it. But that’s all over now,” I said, even though I knew it wasn’t. Mark still very much did everything but get his hands on me.
“He beat you?” Knox asked like the thought was unbelievable.
“Oh, yeah. Lots, often.” I decided to lay it all out. The truth Knox wanted. “He would drag me by the hair across the floor. Hit me, kick me.” I touched my face, remembering my nightmare of a life with him. “I’d miss work for weeks on end, claiming to have the flu, every illness known to man. To hide what he did to me.”
“Why is he walkin’ free?” Knox protested.
I shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. He went to rehab. He’s in perpetual recovery. Judge thinks that’s good enough.” I crossed my arms. “It’s just how it is ‘round here, Knox. His family knows the judge, and I’m from out of town.”
“If Mark ever thinks about laying a hand on you again, it will be my business,” he hissed, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I’ll kill the motherfucker.”
“Don’t say that,” I piped, not sure from his tone or the look of him if he was joking.
“I wouldn’t even have to do it myself, Eliza. I’d call it in. My boys would give him a world a hurt,” he went on, like he was making plans.
Trying to ignore his all too serious tone, I stared out the window. “Look. I’ve made my peace with it. I had to. Believe me, I’ve fought this battle. I don’t need a savior. I’ve got this under control.”
Knox took my hand. “I’m not trying to control you, Eliza. I just can’t stand the thought of someone hurting you.”
The car fell silent as we both retreated into our own thoughts, the stress of our words settling around us. Doubt crept into my mind, not just about how much Knox understood my situation, but about the raw intensity he seemed capable of. Talking about siccing his brothers on Mark—It was protective, yes, but there was an edge to it that scared me—a glimpse of the darker side of the man who lived in a completely unfamiliar world.
His declaration hung in the air, a protective promise, but also a reminder of the complexity of blending our worlds. I appreciated his willingness to defend me, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that his reaction might one day go beyond what I was comfortable with. As we continued the drive in silence, the doubt seeded by today’s events began to grow, shadowing the relationship that had felt so promising just hours before.
As we reached my house, the sight of its empty driveway reminded me that tonight, Emma would be with her father. The knowledge that she was safe with her grandmother until Mark picked her up was a small comfort, but it did little to ease the tension between Knox and me.
“Why ain’t I been inside yet?” Knox asked, breaking the silence as he turned off the engine. He looked over at me, his dark eyes searching for an answer.
“We’ve just been spending time elsewhere,” I replied, feeling defensive yet again.
Knox nodded slowly, then, after a pause, asked, “So, what are we doing, Eliza? What are we?”
“We’re dating, Knox,” I said, the words sounding more like a confirmation to myself than to him. I wasn’t ready to give up yet.
“That makes you more than happy,” he repeated softly, his voice laced with relief. But there was something else—something deeper. He opened his car door, then walked around to open mine, his actions gentlemanly yet charged with an unspoken strain.
As we stood at my front door, like we had so many times, I hesitated. But I unlocked it and stepped inside, allowing Knox to follow, so we could make amends before he left. The quiet of the house enveloped us, a far cry from the emotional noise that had filled the car just minutes before.
Knox closed the door behind us and turned to face me, his expression intense. “Eliza,” he started, his voice deeper. “I know you ain’t like them other women I’ve known. And that’s damn good, ‘cause I don’t want them. I want you.”