Chapter 37 - Knox
Chapter thirty-seven
Knox
She’s still here. That’s my first thought when I open my eyes and see her curled against me, bare leg draped over mine, golden hair fanned out across my pillow.
Brynn. In my bed. Breathing slow and soft, one arm flung across my chest, her fingers twitching in her sleep like she’s chasing something.
I don’t move. I just stare at her, heart beating loud in my chest.
Her skin is warm against mine. She shifts a little, her thigh pressing closer, and I remember every second of last night.
The make-out session that started with us standing and ended tangled in these sheets, naked and completely wrecked, both of us gasping like we’d been waiting years to get our mouths back on each other.
We didn’t go all the way. But Jesus, I wanted to.
And judging by the way she moans softly now and burrows in closer, I don’t think she regrets a damn thing.
She blinks awake, lashes fluttering. Then her eyes find mine and a slow, satisfied smile curves her lips.
“Hey,” she murmurs, voice still scratchy from sleep.
“Hey,” I say, brushing her hair back. “Sleep okay?”
She hums, nodding, stretching. Her shirt—my shirt, actually—rides up her thigh as she does. I don’t stand a chance.
“Well,” she says, eyes twinkling now. “That was probably the hottest PG-13 night of my life.”
I laugh, low and rough. “PG-13, huh?”
“I mean, we were one hip roll away from an R-rating. And you, Mr. Dalton, were extremely well-behaved.”
I smirk. “Don’t give me too much credit. I thought about breaking that rule every five seconds.”
She leans in, presses a kiss to my jaw, then lingers at my ear. “You can misbehave next time.”
My cock’s reaction is instant and involuntary.
She grins wickedly, then sighs and pulls away, sitting up and running a hand through her hair. “But sadly, I’ve got to log in for work in thirty minutes. Which means I need to walk of shame my ass next door and pretend I don’t still feel your hands on my thighs.”
My jaw clenches at the thought of her leaving this bed. Of pretending again like we’re not…this.
I sit up beside her, my voice rough. “You could work from here.”
She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “If I do that, I’ll never get anything done. Especially if you keep walking around shirtless and calling me baby girl.”
I tug her in one last time and kiss her, slow and deep. “Fine. Go log in. But you’re coming back tonight.”
She hesitates at the edge of the bed, looking over her shoulder at me in the sheets, still messy from the night before. “Yeah,” she says softly. “I think I am.”
Gordy’s is packed for a Wednesday night—shoulder-to-shoulder bodies, music turned up, and the smell of fried food clinging to everything. The booths are full, the bar’s two deep, and someone’s already yelling along to a Luke Combs song like it’s karaoke night.
I spot our table near the back. Cam and Ty already posted up with beers, Kate tucked into the corner, her smile wide as she waves me over. Kinsey’s there too, finally off for once, her legs kicked over the side of the bench like she owns the whole damn place.
And Brynn. She’s laughing at something Ty just said, head tilted back, her green sweater dress hugging every curve I’ve tried not to dream about all damn week.
It’s the first time we’ve been out like this—public, surrounded by our friends—and I can already feel the eyes on us. People trying to clock where we stand. Watching for a fight. Or a kiss.
And we’re giving them neither.
“Dalton!” Ty hollers. “Took you long enough. You look like you came straight from scaring freshmen.”
I slide into the open seat beside Cam, across from Brynn. “Not freshmen. Juniors. Worse attitudes, less excuses.”
Brynn’s eyes flick to mine—quick, assessing. A smile teases the edge of her mouth, but she doesn't say anything. Not yet.
“God, I hated junior year,” Kinsey says, stealing a fry from Kate’s plate. “That was the year I got dumped on homecoming night and broke my wrist punching a vending machine.”
Kate huffs. “That was the same night I burned off half my bangs with a curling wand.”
Cam nods sagely. “Ah yes. Peak adolescence. I was grounded for stealing the principal’s golf cart.”
Ty whistles. “Okay, I suddenly feel like I’m boring. I just had a crush on my chem teacher and cried when she got engaged.”
“You cried?” Brynn grins, leaning in. “Never pegged you for a romantic, Ty.”
“It was formative,” Ty says with mock seriousness. “She changed the way I look at the periodic table.”
Laughter ripples around the table, and for a second, it’s easy. Comfortable.
Cam clinks his glass against mine. “How’s the team? They finally learning how to execute a clean slant?”
I shrug. “Getting there. At least they’re remembering where the end zone is.”
“That’s progress,” Kinsey says. “Someone should get them a cake.”
“Optimism looks good on you,” Brynn says, voice light, teasing.
I glance at her. “Are you offering to bake the cake?”
She snorts. “Only if you want food poisoning.”
“She once microwaved soup with the metal lid still on,” Kate stage whispers.
“Once,” Brynn fires back. “And it sparked exactly one kitchen fire.”
“I think it’s sweet,” Cam says, grinning. “You’re the reason every mom in high school owned a fire extinguisher.”
I laugh, and for a moment, I let myself just watch her. The way she leans into the banter. The way her fingers toy with her straw. How her legs cross beneath the table, brushing mine—just slightly.
And how everyone’s watching.
Not obviously. But it’s there. In the side-eyes. The too-long glances. That small-town tension that says, Knox and Brynn are in the same room? Something’s bound to blow. But nothing does and nothing will.
I shift my gaze and catch Cam looking at Kate again.
It’s brief. Just a flicker. But it’s there, his eyes soft, a half-smile he doesn’t mean to wear. She doesn’t seem to notice, or maybe she does and doesn’t know what to do with it. They’re seated side-by-side, their shoulders almost touching.
I look away before I start reading too much into it. Could be a crush. Could be curiosity. Could be nothing.
Ty launches into a story about getting locked in the visitor locker room during last week’s away game, and the group’s attention shifts.
I toss in a few sarcastic comments, watch Kinsey fake gag when Cam orders a round of lemon drop shots, and try like hell not to lose focus every time Brynn laughs under her breath.
She’s playing it cool. So am I. But under the table, her foot bumps mine again—and this time, she doesn’t pull back.
Eventually, Ty stretches with a yawn. “Alright, children. I’m out before I end up dancing to Taylor Swift again.”
Kinsey scoffs. “Like you didn’t request it last time.”
Cam and Kate follow him out a few minutes later, chatting quietly as they head toward the parking lot. Kinsey waves to someone across the bar and disappears to say hi, leaving just me and Brynn.
“Ready to go?” I say, hoping she says yes.
She nods, so I flag down our server, settle the tab. We wave goodbye to Kinsey, walking out into the evening air. We come to a stop, standing near the door under the flickering neon of the Gordy’s sign.
She shivers slightly, rubbing her arms.
“Are you cold?” I ask, already pulling off my jacket.
She shakes her head. “Not really.”
But I offer it anyway. She doesn’t take it. Instead, she looks up at me, lips parted like she’s not sure what she’s about to say.
“I don’t want to sleep alone tonight,” she says quietly.
My chest tightens. The words are soft, but they land like a punch.
“Brynn…”
“I mean sleep,” she adds quickly. “I just…I’m not drunk, but I’ve had enough to make me feel floaty. And I don’t want to go back to a silent house and lie there thinking too much.”
I exhale slowly, watching her. She’s not asking for sex. She’s asking for comfort.
I nod. “I’ll grab Priscilla and come over.”
Her eyes soften. “Okay.”
We walk off into the night, quiet between us, then her hand brushes mine as she walks to her Uber and I to my truck.