17. Ava
SEVENTEEN
AVA
I wake on Knox’s couch, a blanket draped over me, and only a small lamp illuminating the living room. I don’t know when the sun set during my dozing in and out all evening or what time it is, but there’s a chill in the air, so it must be late.
The house is quiet, save for the distant hum of the generator, and for a moment, I think Knox has gone to bed.
A horse whinny carries in from outside, and I sit up. I can see the moonlit barn through the screen door, then I hear Knox’s voice, a low murmur too quiet to comprehend. The porch creaks next, and my cheeks heat as I realize he has likely been outside, waiting for me to wake up.
Untangling from the blanket, I right myself, my boots hitting the rug with a soft thud. I should have warned Knox this might happen—that it would eventually happen. I rally myself to go out there.
Epilepsy is not a topic that comes up naturally in any conversation, especially not in the chaotic mess of the past two days. I have to explain it to him, though—he deserves far more than that—and I force myself to get up.
Grabbing the half-empty water bottle from the coffee table, I walk to the door. I’m still fully dressed, but my tank top covers little, and the chilly night sends goosebumps over my exposed arms as I push the screen open. The tinge of smoke in the air is barely noticeable because all I can think about is what Knox will say next.
But he says nothing. Knox doesn’t even look at me as I step outside. His hand pauses its ministrations on Lucy’s silky ear, though, and her head darts in my direction.
“Hey,” I say dumbly. I walk over to the rocking chair next to his.
“Hey.” Even in the night shadows, I can tell his gaze is fixed on the stables and inky horizon—anywhere but toward me.
“I should have warned you.” It’s all I can think to say as I lower into the seat, pulling my legs under me.
Finally, Knox looks at me, playing with Lucy’s ear as she dozes off again beside him. I think it comforts him as much as her. “So.. .you did know that would happen.”
I nod. “I assumed it would, eventually.”
His jaw clenches in the moon shadows, and I know he’s angry. Still, he gives nothing else away. “Was it the heat?”
Turning the water bottle around in my hand, I shake my head. “No—I mean, the heat doesn’t help, but it’s not solely that. If anything, it just makes it worse.”
Knox stares at me for so long I begin to itch under his gaze, uncertain of what he’s thinking. I want him to ask me all his questions, simply to fill the awkward silence that seems to settle between us so easily. And finally, he grants my wish. “That happens a lot?”
I bite my lip, considering what a lot means to him. “It comes and goes in waves, but it’s worse when I stop taking my meds.”
Knox rubs his forehead. “The pills in the white bag.”
I run my finger over the grooves in the chair arm.
“And that bag, the one you can’t find, was all you had?”
“I have a few pills left, but silly me,” I say caustically, “I thought I could ration them.” I uncap my water and take a drink for something to do—movement to disperse the anxious energy buzzing through me. “I know better.”
Knox’s gaze bores into the side of my face as if I’m not squirming enough already.
“I’ll survive without them,” I promise. “It just sucks, is all.”
“It’s why you don’t drive,” he muses, and wordlessness finds us again. Crickets and the pacing horses in the stables fill the night.
“Usually,” I start, “I know when they are coming and can prepare for them. Well, as much as you can prepare for something like that. But today, I don’t know. It came faster than I’m used to.” I shake my head. “I wasn’t ready for it.”
“Ready for what, exactly?” In my periphery, Knox shifts in his seat. “What happens?”
“Some call them absence seizures, but it’s more than that.” I search for a way to explain it to him. I’ve never talked to anyone about my spells other than Scott because it’s happened at work a few times, and Mavey, of course. I feel exposed having it happen around Knox when two days ago, we weren’t even on speaking terms.
Placing my hand on my chest, I force myself to find the words. “It’s like I feel a void coming to life inside of me. That’s the only way I can think to explain it.” With a huff, I shake my head. “You’d think knowing a spell is coming is a good thing, but sometimes I think it makes them worse. I can’t stop them, so I stew and wait for them to come.”
Lucy snores softly at Knox’s feet, and when I glance at him, he’s staring out at the darkness. “You were looking right at me,” he murmurs, and there’s a trace of horror in his voice. “You looked dead, Ava.”
I lean my head back against the chair, slowly rocking back and forth. There are cobwebs on the slatted porch ceiling, and I make a mental note to clean them for Knox tomorrow. “I don’t know how to explain it,” I say. “But it’s like being paralyzed. Sometimes, I can hear and see things, but I can’t move. Other times, everything tunnels away, fading completely until I can’t see or hear anything at all. It only lasts for seconds, I think. Maybe a few minutes, but afterward, it feels like the life is drained from me.”
Knox leans his head back in the chair, stoic and thoughtful, and the more I watch him, I think he’s being careful with his words, too. “How long have you had them?”
“All my life,” I whisper.
Moonlight stripes Knox’s face. His brow is furrowed, his jaw tight again. And that pensive look of his is quickly becoming maddeningly dependable.
“It was hard to diagnose when I was little,” I continue. “Even now, my doctors argue what it is. I’ve gotten so many tests done, but they are always inconclusive.” I snort a laugh. “I’m not sure what that says about me,” I mutter.
“Since you continue to have them,” Knox says flatly, “I’d say whatever they’re doing isn’t working. You need to see a specialist.”
I laugh again.
“It’s not funny, Ava.” His chiding voice makes me bristle, and the smile falls from my lips.
“You don’t think I know that?” I sit straighter in my chair. “I’m the one who has to live with it. But money doesn’t grow on trees, Knox. At least not for me. I’ve barely been able to pay my medical bills as it is—a specialist is out of the question. Just getting to the city is an obstacle in itself, and leaving Mavey overnight—” My voice cracks, and I grit my teeth. “There have been more important things to worry about. Especially now.”
The water sloshes in my bottle as I rock back and forth, exhaling the weighty memory of Mavey. Of how different my life was only a handful of hours ago. “I hate losing control of my body,” I confess. “Especially when it happens in public. Being conscious and incapable of speaking, moving, or even seeing sometimes—” I say in a rush. “Obviously, I would fix it if I could.”
With a hefty sigh, Lucy stretches out on the porch, and the horses move restlessly in the stables.
“I wish there was a better way to tell how bad things have gotten in town,” Knox mutters.
I’ve wondered the same thing a dozen times, and every time I think of town, I imagine what’s left of Lars’s crew looking for the one who killed their friends. Because my gut tells me if any of them learned what happened in the supply store, they’d know it had something to do with me.
I shake my head. “I know what you’re thinking, Knox, and it’s not worth it. Especially because we—” A familiar rumble roars in the night, instantly followed by the quaking earth. Lucy scrambles away in fear, the horses neigh, and the wood around us creaks in protest.
Remotely, I notice strange lights flickering in the distance as I grab onto the arms of the rocking chair to push myself up and run, but Knox and I are barely standing when the world stills again, and the rumbling ceases.
We wait for an aftershock with bated breath, and when nothing comes, I meet his wide-eyed gaze.
“You’d think I’d be used to that by now,” I rasp, wiping my sweaty hands on my pants.
“Same.” Knox stares toward the paddock where Poppy paces. “I should’ve realized that was why the animals have been so anxious tonight.”
Lucy comes scampering back from around the house, and Knox steps off the porch. “I hooked the antenna up earlier. See what you can find on the TV. I’m going to check on the livestock.”
“Yeah,” I breathe. “Okay.” I move for the screen door, watching the way Knox’s strides consume the distance to the stables, once again filled with purpose. Our reprieve, it would seem, is over.