12. Knox #2
As he stalks around the hood, I sneak one more glance at the flower shop across the street, at the tired but proud woman arranging stems in her window.
And I feel it—a tug.
Quiet, persistent.
Maybe... just maybe... I’ve found a place I could belong.
Knox
Too many people.
Looking at my petal.
I’d thought I could handle it, but fuck, I?—
I grip the wheel harder, jaw clenched, eyes locked straight ahead.
Every storefront, every step of Main Street had felt like a spotlight aimed at us. I should’ve known better. I should’ve never agreed to this.
Lily had been taken in by the bright sunshine and the colorful newness as we walked. She hadn’t seen what I saw. Hadn’t felt the air change when heads turned, whispers starting.
I’d seen it all.
Women shrinking back, eyes darting like I was about to eat them alive. And when her eyes had gone wide at the buckets of blooms spilling across the sidewalk, men had stared too long at her bare legs under my shirt, at the curve of her ass when she bent to look at the florist display.
“Get inside,” I’d muttered, jerking my chin at the door. Then planted myself in front of it, because no one was getting in to ogle my girl.
Through the glass, I watched her—the way she touched petals, the way her whole face lit up when the old woman behind the counter talked to her.
That smile. Christ.
Today she’d smiled like that at me in the barn.
And still something sour twisted in my gut. A knot of jealousy and longing and rage at myself because I want it all for myself.
So badly it eats me alive. Like a disease.
An addiction.
I shoved it down, the way I always did.
She’d come back out a few minutes later, cheeks pink, smelling like roses. I didn’t ask what they’d talked about. I didn’t trust myself not to growl at the answer.
Mine.
The word slammed through me like a hammer then.
My blood heated, vision narrowed until all I could see was her. Her soft mouth, hair catching the light, the tilt of her head when she smiled at a stranger.
I’d wanted to rip her away. Haul her back to the truck, lock her in the cabin where no one else could lay eyes on her.
But I didn’t.
Because she was smiling. Because she was happy. And I’d promised myself, whatever hell it cost me, I’d give her that.
So I’d walked her into the drugstore, my body crowding hers, my eyes cutting like blades at anyone who looked too long.
The stares came anyway.
Some wide-eyed. Some brazen. Some mocking, like they remembered The Grizzly and couldn’t believe he was lumbering down the hygiene aisle with a woman a quarter his size picking out tampons.
I’d caught one man’s smirk, and my fists had clenched so hard my knuckles popped. My brain flashed to how easily I could put him through a wall. How fast he’d beg for mercy if I bent him in half over my knee the way I used to fold men in the ring.
Then Lily’s hand found mine.
Soft. Warm. Squeezing once.
It stopped me cold.
Her little hand in my giant, callused fist. Like she belonged there. Like I belonged there, with her.
My throat closed and I couldn’t speak. Could barely breathe.
At the register, the clerk had barely glanced at me, fumbling the bag into Lily’s hands like she was afraid to meet my eyes. Good. She should be.
But Lily had thanked her in that sweet voice, and the woman had softened. Smiled even.
And yeah, even that pissed me off—because her eyes said she wanted to know my petal. Maybe even wanted to be friends.
And they’d thought she needed anyone but me?
It made me want to fucking kill someone.
Back in the truck, she puts her hand on my thigh.
Confident. Possessive, almost.
I glance down. Her small palm, her slender fingers splayed against my jeans. A brand hotter than any iron.
I slam the gearshift into drive and gun us out of town before I do something stupid—like pull over and fuck her in broad daylight just to prove to every bastard watching that she’s mine.
But even as the road slides under the tires, I can’t lelt it go.
The way they looked at her. The way she smiled back. The way she belongs everywhere, while I belong nowhere.
My chest heaves as sweat slides down my back.
Christ, I’m fucking unraveling.
She squeezes my thigh. Again, like she knows. Like she feels the storm in me.
“Bear,” she says softly. “Thank you for bringing me.”
Her voice cracks something in me. A seam I thought welded shut loosens.
She isn’t running. She isn’t asking for more while calling me a monster. She’s just grateful.
And that simple truth leaves me wrecked. I pick up her small, delicate hand, bring it up to my mouth, and kiss her smooth skin.
She smiles, wrecking me harder.
We drive in heavy silence, the mountain growing closer, steadier with every mile. My hands ease on the wheel the higher we climb, but the thought won’t leave me.
I could lose her down there—to that smile, to the ease she wears in the middle of town, to the way she fits everywhere I don’t.
The idea claws at me.
I glance sideways. She’s watching the trees now, content, my T-shirt slipping off her shoulder, lips curved faintly as if she still carries the flower shop smell with her.
And I know, cold and absolute, that I’d break whatever or whoever dares to take her away from me.