27. Cheyenne
Cheyenne
My hands are still shaking when Knox turns on the water. The bathroom fills with the rush of it as steam curls toward the ceiling. The muted light from the sconces makes everything feel hazy, as if the world outside this room no longer exists.
Except… all I can see is the box.
The shattered glass inside it.
The note.
You broke my heart.
Now I’m going to break yours.
My stomach twists again, and I press my lips together, trying to keep the emotion buried deep down inside so it won’t break loose.
Nowhere feels safe anymore.
Knox moves around the room without saying much as he tests the water before adjusting the faucet. He grabs a fluffy towel from the rack and sets it within reach. Then he disappears for a few minutes, returning with a glass of wine and setting it on the counter.
“Here,” he says quietly. “Hopefully this helps take the edge off.”
My gaze drops to the glass before slanting back up at him. “You don’t have to do all this.”
“I want to make sure you’re okay.”
My chest tightens all over again, but for entirely different reasons.
After the tub has been filled, he shuts off the water and takes a step in retreat. “All right. It’s ready for you.”
When he turns toward the door, panic spikes. “Knox… wait.”
He swings around, his brows pulling together. “What’s wrong?”
I swallow, feeling foolish. “It’s just… I…”
The words stick in my throat.
He steps closer. “Do you need something else?”
Even though it’s hard, I force out the truth. “I don’t want to be alone right now.”
For a moment, he stares at me. “You don’t?”
I shake my head, my fingers twisting together in front of me. “No. Not right now. I just…” My voice dips. “I feel safe with you.”
Surprise flashes across his expression before it shifts into something that’s both fierce and protective. “Are you sure?”
I nod, my heart pounding. “I am.”
“Okay, then I’ll stay.” Slowly, he pulls the T-shirt over his head before tossing it onto the counter and pushing his sweatpants down his hips. He moves without a trace of swagger, as if this has nothing to do with sex and everything to do with taking care of me.
That’s all it takes to make me realize this was the right decision.
I turn away and slip off my sweatshirt and leggings, folding them with unsteady hands. My bra comes next and then my panties.
Neither of us says anything or lets our gaze linger on the other for too long.
I step into the tub before overthinking it. The water is hot enough to make my skin tingle, the warmth sinking into muscles I didn’t realize were wound tight. I lower myself gradually, releasing a breath it feels like I’ve been holding since Knox found the box in the entryway.
A second later, the water shifts behind me as Knox steps in, settling into the tub with a quiet exhale. It’s spacious enough for both of us, but not by much, and the heat of his body radiates against my back before he even touches me.
I hesitate and then slide back between his legs.
For the first time since seeing Dakota’s gift, the thought of being held feels like the only thing that might make the shaking stop. Instead of immediately pulling me closer, he allows me to settle.
When I finally lean against him, his arms wind around me, draping over my stomach and holding me in place. His chest is solid against my back, the steady rise and fall of his breathing grounding me in a way nothing else could.
For a while, the only sounds are the faint slosh of water and the quiet hum of the bathroom fan. My head tips back against his shoulder, and he shifts slightly so I’m more comfortable as one hand drifts along my arm.
“You’re going to get through this,” he murmurs.
His voice vibrates through his chest and straight into my back, settling deep inside me.
“It doesn’t feel like it,” I whisper.
“You will,” he says again, firmer this time. “And I’ll be here every step of the way.”
My throat tightens with emotion. No one’s ever made that kind of promise to me before. The most terrifying part is that it sounds like he means it.
“You don’t have to say that. I’ve forced myself into your life and complicated everything, and I’m sorry for that.”
He’s quiet for a moment. “Here’s the thing you need to know about me—if I say something, it’s because I mean it.” His voice dips. “And with you, I do. Every damn word.”
Moisture stings my eyes. I blink and stare down at the water.
After a few minutes, he reaches for the washcloth resting on the edge of the tub.
“Sit forward a little,” he murmurs.
I do as he asks, my heart beating faster now for an entirely different reason. This side of Knox still catches me off guard. The tenderness and patience. The way he keeps showing me pieces of himself I didn’t know existed.
He runs the cloth over my back with slow, unhurried strokes. The heat of the water and the glide of his touch send a million tiny shivers skating across my skin. It’s not overtly sexual, but that almost makes it worse. It’s intimate and entirely too easy to get lost in.
It wouldn’t take much to fall for the man Knox is revealing himself to be.
His hand moves in slow circles over my shoulders, down my spine, and back up again, as if he’s trying to wash the tension out of me one caress at a time. I close my eyes, allowing my head to fall forward.
When he’s done, his hand lingers at my shoulder, his thumb brushing over my skin.
“Are you okay?” There’s a beat of silence. “It’s understandable if you’re not.”
Without responding, I turn to meet his gaze and find his face inches from mine. Damp strands of blond hair fall across his forehead, and the bruise under his eye seems darker in the muted light. His attention drops to my mouth for a split second before lifting back to my eyes.
Neither of us moves as the humid air seems to thicken, turning charged. It’s like the moment at the zoo all over again, only quieter and more intimate. And that makes it so much more precarious because there’s nowhere for either of us to hide.
“This is crazy,” I whisper.
“You’re right. It is.”
In that moment, I realize I could stop this. I could lean back or shift away. We could both pretend this moment doesn’t feel inevitable.
Instead, I turn in the water until my hand can rest against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath my palm. His arm tightens around my waist, and when my gaze drops to his mouth, his eyes darken.
I lean in, and Knox meets me halfway. His lips are firm beneath mine.
My fingers curl against his pecs, and his hand slides up my back, pressing me closer as the kiss deepens.
The heat has nothing to do with the water and everything to do with the combustible energy that’s been building between us for years.
This feels real in a way very little in my life ever has.
I have no idea how long we kiss before finally pulling apart, our foreheads resting against each other, both of us breathing harder than we were a minute ago.
It feels like we’re standing on the edge of a moment that could change everything.
As terrifying as that is, part of me is relieved. There’s no backing away or acting as if we haven’t crossed a line.
And I’m not sure I’d want to even if I could.