Chapter 13
Calculus formulas blur together on my laptop screen. I've been staring at the same problem for twenty minutes, but all I can think about is Knox's face in the garden. The way he shut down. The wall that slammed between us.
"Kenny, you've been rereading that same equation for like an hour. Are you okay?" Sawyer asks.
We're camped out in the library during midterms week, surrounded by empty coffee cups and scattered notes. My phone sits silent beside me, no messages from Knox since the gala.
"Just stressed about the test."
Sawyer closes my laptop. "Nothing to do with the fact that you're in love with your fake boyfriend and haven't told him yet?"
I choke on my coffee.
"Come on." She rolls her eyes. "You admitted it last week. 'Oh Sawyer,'" she mimics my voice, "'I think I'm falling for him for real.' Remember?"
Right. I hadn't told her about the garden. About how spectacularly that almost-confession went.
"It got complicated."
"What's complicated? Tell him how you feel."
"He's not..." I try to find the right words. "He's not ready for that. The draft is coming up, and scouts are watching him, and everything's so precarious right now."
"Sounds like excuses to me."
"Plus, remember how I blackmailed him?"
She side eyes me. "Yeah."
"Yeah," I mutter, not wanting to say more. "This deal was sort of one-sided, so I get it. Everything’s fine."
My phone buzzes. For a second my heart jumps, hoping it’s Knox, but it's just Patricia.
Patricia: Need to discuss Knox's background check results. My office, 3pm.
My stomach drops. "They're digging into him."
"The campaign?" Sawyer reads the text over my shoulder. "That's not good."
Not good is an understatement. Knox has secrets – the kind that could ruin his draft chances if they got out. The kind I've been helping him protect.
Just like he's been protecting me.
Ace is waving at the entrance, trying to capture my attention.
"Uh," I say. "Coming." I follow Ace outside, where late February wind whips across campus. "Everything okay?"
"You tell me." He studies my face. "Haven't seen you with Knox lately."
Right because he lives with Knox. Knox is also his best friend.
"Midterms," I lie. "Really busy."
"Right." Ace shoves his hands in his pockets. "Well, about Knox..."
My heart stutters. "What about him?"
"He's–"
I’m all ears now. "Did he say something?"
"He didn't have to." Ace kicks at the ground. "But he's got a lot going on right now. The draft, his dad, all of it. I just... I don't want to see either of you get hurt."
Too late for that.
"Yeah," I say carefully.
Ace's voice gets serious. "He's my best friend, but he's also the guy who put three players in the hospital last season. He grew up learning to fight before he learned to skate. You know he's one bad decision away from losing everything he's worked for."
"He's more than that."
"Maybe." Ace touches my arm. "But loving him isn't easy, Kennedy. Trust me, I've watched enough girls try."
My phone buzzes again. Patricia, reminding me about the meeting.
"I have to go." I squeeze Ace's hand. "But thanks. For looking out for both of us."
Patricia's office feels colder than usual. Or maybe that's just the look she gives me as I sit down.
"We've finished the preliminary background check on Knox Thompson." She slides a folder across her desk. "It's... concerning."
I don't open it. "His past doesn't define him."
"No, but it could define your father's campaign." She taps the folder. "Bar fights. A sealed juvenile record. An alcoholic father with a history of petty crime. Not exactly the image we want associated with the family."
"So what are you saying?"
"I'm saying that perhaps it's time to end this... rebellion." She watches me too carefully. "Before anything comes out that could damage both your futures."
Both our futures. The threat is clear – they'll bury whatever they found, protect the campaign's image, but only if I end things with Knox.
"I'll think about it."
"Don't think too long." She checks her watch. "The combine is in three weeks. It would be a shame if any of this affected his draft prospects."
I leave her office feeling sick. My phone shows a missed call from Sawyer, probably wondering what Ace said.
Instead of calling back, I find myself walking to the arena. Practice is just ending, players filing out in gear bags and sweat. Knox isn't among them.
"He's still inside," Harvey tells me as he passes. "Working on something with his shot."
I slip into the empty arena, the familiar smell of ice and leather wrapping around me. Knox is alone on the rink, firing pucks at the net with deadly precision.
He looks beautiful like this. Focused. Powerful. Free.
I think about Patricia's threats. About Ace's warnings. About all the reasons this could never work.
But I also think about Knox with his father. Knox defending me to donors. Knox learning to waltz just to make me happy.
Sawyer's right. I need to tell him. Need to be honest about how real this has become. Need to stop pretending I'm not completely, terrifyingly in love with him.
Even if he runs.
Even if it ruins everything.
Even if loving him isn't easy.
Because not loving him is impossible.
I touch the folder in my bag, evidence of all the ways this could go wrong. Then I watch Knox move across the ice like he was born for it, and I know…
Some things are worth the risk.
Now I just have to convince him of that.
If he'll let me.