Chapter 20 Lina
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Lina
The drive back to Ravenshollow stretched longer than the drive to Pine Valley had. Or maybe it just felt that way because the sun had set and the roads were dark and quiet, nothing but trees and the occasional flash of headlights from passing cars.
I pressed my forehead against the cool window and let my thoughts drift.
Knox.
My past self had chosen to stay with him. Had chosen to forgive him after years of raising twins alone, after he’d rejected her cruelly and walked away. She’d not only forgiven him but married him, had another child with him, built an entire life around him.
She must have seen something worth fighting for. Something worth the pain and the struggle and the risk.
I wanted to know what that was. I wanted to understand. I wanted to ask him about their past, about the rejection and the reconciliation and everything in between. But not yet.
The car slowed and I looked up as Knox turned onto a smaller road. Trees gave way to a clearing, and then I saw it.
The pack house.
It was beautiful. Not too big, not ostentatious, just a well-built home with warm lights glowing in the windows and a wraparound porch that looked perfect for morning coffee. It felt cozy, welcoming, even with the guards positioned around the perimeter.
“Home,” Knox said quietly as he parked.
Home. I tested the word in my mind. It didn’t feel wrong.
“The guards will be here around the clock,” Knox continued, turning off the engine. “My parents’ property is nearby, and Sarah has a place here in Ravenshollow too. Everyone is close. Everyone is protected.”
Relief washed through me. I was glad they were safe. All of them.
We got out of the car and Knox moved to the trunk, pulling out suitcases I hadn’t noticed before.
All the clothes and supplies he’d kept at the hospital during the month I was unconscious.
He really had moved there with me. Had lived in that hospital room, sleeping in that chair, waiting for me to wake up.
The thought made my chest tight.
He carried the suitcases inside and I followed, taking in everything. The entryway with its coat hooks and shoe rack. The living room with its comfortable couches and fireplace. The kitchen with its large island and modern appliances.
Knox took my hand and led me through the house, showing me each room. The kids’ bedrooms, bright and cheerful, filled with toys and books. A home office with two desks, one neat and organized, one covered in papers and coffee cups. A bathroom with a huge tub that made me want to soak for hours.
And then the nursery.
I stopped in the doorway, my heart squeezing.
A crib sat against one wall, draped with soft blankets. A rocking chair was positioned near the window. The walls were painted a gentle sage green, and there were little animal decorations everywhere. Bunnies and foxes and deer.
My daughter’s room. A daughter I had given birth to but hadn’t met yet. A daughter who was waiting somewhere, being cared for by people who loved her, while I tried to piece together the fragments of my shattered memory.
I wondered what she looked like. If she had Knox’s gray eyes or my brown ones. If she had his dark hair or something softer. I wondered if she would know me when she saw me, or if I would be just another stranger.
We continued the tour. Knox pointed out little details as we walked. The bookshelf I had insisted on installing. The corner where I liked to read. The kitchen gadgets I had bought but never used.
Finally, we reached the master bedroom.
It was large and comfortable, with a king sized bed covered in soft blankets, big windows that looked out onto the backyard, and an attached bathroom. The closet doors were open, revealing clothes on both sides. His and hers.
Knox cleared his throat. “You should take a shower. Get some rest. I’ll make dinner.” He paused, his jaw tightening. “And don’t worry. I’ll sleep on the couch.”
I opened my mouth to respond but he was already turning away, heading back down the hallway before I could say anything.
I bit my lip and watched him go.
The shower called to me and I stepped into the bathroom, stripping off my clothes and turning on the water. Hot spray cascaded down and I sighed in relief, letting the warmth seep into my tired muscles.
The soap caught my attention first. I picked it up and brought it to my nose, inhaling deeply. It smelled familiar. Masculine. Woodsy and warm and...
It smelled exactly like Knox.
I looked at the shampoo. The conditioner. The body wash. All of them carried that same scent, that same warm masculine fragrance that made my stomach flutter every time I got close to him.
My mind drifted as the water ran over me. Knox’s lips on mine in the hospital shower. His hands gripping my hips. The hard press of his body against me. Those gray eyes, dark with want, fighting to stay focused on my face when I was naked and wet in front of him.
My hand started to drift lower.
No. Bad idea. Very bad idea.
I forced my hand back to the soap and scrubbed myself clean, trying to think about anything other than the man downstairs.
Since I woke up, I’d been so damn horny. Constantly aware of Knox, constantly thinking about his body, constantly fighting the urge to jump him. It was ridiculous. As if I’d spent years without sex and now the need was hitting me full force, demanding to be satisfied.
Was I always this way? Had my past self been a beast in bed?
I should ask Knox.
Or maybe not.
I finished showering before I could do anything I might regret and dried off, wrapping myself in a fluffy robe I found hanging on the back of the door.
In the closet, I found comfortable clothes that must have been mine.
Soft sleep shorts and an oversized t-shirt that, I noticed, also smelled faintly of Knox.
Had I stolen his shirts to sleep in? That seemed like the kind of thing I would do.
I got dressed and headed downstairs, following the smell of cooking food to the kitchen.
Knox was standing at the stove, stirring a pot. Two plates were set on the breakfast island, along with glasses of water and a bottle of wine. He looked up when I walked in and his eyes swept over me, lingering on the shirt.
“That’s mine,” he said.
“Is it? I found it in the closet.”
“You steal my shirts.”
“Apparently.”
A small smile tugged at his lips. “I don’t mind. You look better in them anyway.”
I slid onto one of the stools at the island and watched him finish cooking. Spaghetti with meat sauce, from the smell of it. My stomach growled loudly.
“Hungry?” Knox asked, amused.
“Starving.”
He plated the food and brought it over, sitting across from me at the island. I took a bite and actually moaned.
“This is really good,” I said around a mouthful of pasta. “Really good.”
Knox ducked his head, a flush creeping up his neck. “Thank you.”
“You cook a lot?”
“When I can. You taught me some recipes. Before, I mostly survived on takeout and protein bars.”
We ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes. The food was delicious, the wine was smooth, and sitting across from Knox in our kitchen felt right. Natural.
“Can I ask you about our history?” I said finally.
Knox set down his fork. “Anything.”
“Mika and Vivi told me about the five years we spent apart. About how you rejected me.”
His expression shuttered, pain flickering across his features. “They told you the truth.”
“I want to hear it from you.”
He was quiet for a long moment, staring at his plate. Then he sighed and looked up at me, his gray eyes raw with old guilt.
“I was a coward,” he said simply. “I met you and I wanted you more than I’d ever wanted anything.
And then I found out you were human, and I panicked.
I thought I was protecting you by pushing you away.
I thought if I was cruel enough, you’d move on and find someone who could give you a normal life. ”
“So you told me I was just a warm body.”
He flinched. “Yes.”
“And then you left.”
“Yes.”
“And I was pregnant.”
“I didn’t know.” His voice cracked. “I swear to you, Lina, I didn’t know. If I had known...”
“What would you have done?”
He met my eyes. “I would have stayed. I would have fallen at your feet and begged you to let me be part of their lives. Part of your life.”
I believed him. I couldn’t explain how I knew he was telling the truth, but I did.
“My friends said we’ve been fighting lately,” I continued. “Before the coma.”
Knox nodded slowly. “We have. A dangerous woman escaped from custody. That was the first trigger. Then the threats started coming. Against you. Against our family. I wanted to increase your security, keep you safe. You thought I was being controlling. We argued about it a lot.”
I processed that. A dangerous woman. Threats. Against me and our family.
A flash of an image crossed my mind. Fire. Smoke. A blanket burning on a doorstep. Was that real? Had that actually happened? Or was my brain inventing things, trying to fill in the gaps with fiction?
“I don’t know what’s real anymore,” I admitted quietly. “I keep getting these flashes. Images. I don’t know if they’re memories or just my imagination.”
Knox reached across the island and took my hand. “Whatever you see, whatever you remember, I’m here. We can figure it out together.”
His thumb traced circles on the back of my hand and I felt warmth spread through my chest.
“While we were apart,” Knox said, his voice softer now, “I wrote you letters. Hundreds of them. Telling you everything I couldn’t say in person.
How much I missed you. How sorry I was. How I’d do anything to take back what I said.
” He paused. “I never sent them. But after we got back together, I gave them to you. You keep them in a box under our bed. You used to read them sometimes.”
My eyebrows shot up. “Letters?”
“A lot of letters.”
I definitely wanted to see those.