22. Knox
TWENTY-TWO
KNOX
My body aches with exhaustion, but my mind, no matter how heavy, won’t shut off. I can’t sleep in my brother’s room without dwelling on whether he’s alive or dead, so I make my way downstairs. The house is still, save for the sporadic gusts of wind that shift the rafters.
Lucy looks up from her bed by the door, her bobbed tail wagging tentatively, but she doesn’t get up. “It’s too early,” I commiserate. “I know.”
Taking my hoodie off the back of the couch, I glance at my bedroom door down the hall. Of course, it’s closed. I don’t know if Ava is asleep or not, but I would bet the door is locked to keep unwanted visitors out. Obviously, nothing is okay between her and my father, but cohabitation is the only choice we have. At least they are making it work. For now.
Cracking my neck, I reach for the front door, open it quietly, and step onto the porch. I’m immediately hit by the scent of fire on the breeze. It’s been inescapable all day, so I don’t know why I thought tonight would be different. Still, the smoky, muggy night air is better than the confines of my brother’s old room and the tension-wrought house.
The porch creaks as I move one of the chairs closer to the railing to better see the stars. Only after I bunch my hoodie behind my head for a pillow do I realize there isn’t a single star in sight on such a cloudy night. Of course there’s not. Even so, I’m content to listen to the rustle of the sagebrush instead of the yawning silence of Kellen’s room.
Ava. She fills my thoughts again. Imagining her asleep in that very room before my father appeared, wondering what she must’ve felt. Ava asleep in my bed while I’m out here stewing. I want to know if she’s awake. If she was only placating me earlier when she promised she’d stay, or if she’ll leave, regardless of how reckless that would be.
I tell myself Ava should do whatever she wants to, that it shouldn’t matter to me either way. But it does. I don’t know when it happened, exactly, but I do care for Ava—at least, I care about her. My promise to Scott is only one of many reasons I don’t want her to leave.
As I try to sort through my thoughts—the feelings I’ve been ignoring and what they might mean—I close my eyes and inhale a deep breath.
She thought I’ve hated her all this time. While I don’t hate Ava and never have, I’ve gone out of my way to avoid her for ten years. All because I didn’t want to deal with my own shit. In that way, I guess I’m more like my father than I thought, and that frustrates me even more. Especially as I consider how disappointed my mother would be if she were still alive. She’d have told me years ago that Ava, an innocent girl thrust into this as much as I was, isn’t to blame. And more than that, she had no mother or father to take care of her, not even an uncle, when it was all said and done. She had none of the people who should have been loving her and caring about her. Meanwhile, I avoided her like it might make my life easier somehow. It didn’t.
I heave what feels like the heaviest sigh of my life and nestle deeper into the chair, glad when the hard wood cuts into my back to stir me from depressing, unwanted thoughts. None of that matters anymore.
Instead, I revel in the small comfort that none of the sick cattle worsened today. With my father being strangely okay with Ava staying here, and not having to shoot another animal between the eyes, I take the win.
My mind drifts from one distant thought to another as my body finally eases and the hope of sleep inches its way in. One of the horses stirs in the stable, and a steer grunts in the distance. Remotely, the sensation of something soft kisses my skin, then another whisper of a touch tickles my nose and I wipe it away. A flake catches in my lashes as I open my eyes, and blinking, I shoot up. The rail is dusted in ash, and when I look down at my lap...
“The fuck...”
The horses nicker again, drawing my attention toward the stable and beyond it to the brightening sky. I blink, over and over, praying that isn’t a mixture of orange flames and black smoke on the horizon.
“Da—” I clear my throat. “Dad!” I shout, the hoodie dropping to the ground as I jump to my feet. “Dad! Wake up!” I fling the screen door open and rush into the house. “Ava, get up!” I call, barreling down the hall. I push into my room for my clothes, but it’s locked. “Ava!” I pound on the door.
The light flicks on as Ava flings the door open, wide-eyed and blinking at me. Her chest heaves and her hair is mussed around her face. I nudge past her to collect my boots and pants and she stumbles back.
“Knox?” Her tremulous, sleep-laden voice barely cuts through my frantic thoughts. “What’s wrong?”
“Fire,” I rasp.
Ava runs to the window, pushing the curtain away. “Shit.”
All I can think about are the animals. Our supplies. The house...
“Knox!” my dad calls from the living room.
“The fires!” I call. “They’re coming this way!” My dad must see the wildfires cresting the pasture because his heavy, hurried footsteps boom around upstairs.
Ava pulls her clothes on as we rush around my room. “What do you think?” She grabs her things from my bathroom. “An hour before it gets this far?”
“Less with this wind.” My stomach drops, knowing there is nothing we can do to save this place in what precious minutes we have. Nothing but save ourselves and leave the ranch behind.
I meet her worried gaze as I hurry out the door. “I’m letting the steers and the pigs loose,” my dad calls as he jogs down the stairs, his boots not even laced all the way.
I nod, thinking the same thing. “They have a better chance on their own. I’ll get the horses loaded in the trailer.”
My father stops at the couch and looks behind me. “Ava?—”
She rushes out of my room, dressed and ready to help, but her eyes are wild and filled with fear.
“Grab Knox’s bags. Get everything loaded in the truck.”
She nods before disappearing into my room again. “They’re in the closet!” I call.
Lucy bumps the screen door open and leads the way as my father and I jog toward the barn. The approaching fire is almost mesmerizing, close enough I can see the flickering flames consuming the earth as it creeps closer. Even the smoke thickens in the air, making my eyes burn.
“Knox!” my father snaps. I meet his hard stare. “Focus.” He glances at the pacing horses.
“Extra supplies and food for the horses are already loaded in the trailer,” I tell him, continuing toward the paddock. Loca, Poppy, and Rooster follow me along the fence line as I gather their halters. I go in for Loca first. She’s skittish as I lead her to the trailer, but she’s been loaded enough times that she doesn’t fuss too much.
My father gestures and hollers at the steers in the corral as Lucy helps herd them to freedom, and I halter Rooster and load him into the trailer next. He’s as anxious to flee the frenetic charge in the air as the rest of us, and he doesn’t fight me.
As I turn back for Poppy, my father emerges from the shadows, his eyes on the approaching flames. The wind brings the fire closer with every gust.
“You have food and water?” he confirms.
“We do.”
“Guns? Ammo?” He looks me squarely in the eyes.
“Yeah, I’ve got fuel, and the camping stuff too, if we need it.”
My father nods, but the deep furrow in his brow is unchanged. I sidestep him for Poppy’s stall, but my father grabs the gate. He grips the metal tighter, pushing against my pull so hard his knuckles whiten. “I’ll let her go.”
“Let her go?”
He glances at the trailer. “Caring for two horses is enough, Knox, and Poppy’s old. She tires easily. Leave her with me and I’ll let her go.”
Ava jogs closer. “Everything’s loaded in the truck. I grabbed food for Lucy too.” Ava sounds out of breath, but I don’t think about her or Lucy as my father’s glare narrows on me, and the meaning of his words sinks in.
“No,” I say, as a sickening feeling fills me from head to toe. “You’re not staying. You’re coming with us.”
My father’s eyes shift to the growing flames. “I’m not leaving, son.” He sounds as determined as he sounds regretful.
“Dad—”
“I won’t leave, Knox,” he says more firmly, and, this time, his eyes meet mine. “This is our home. Where your mother is buried?—”
“Tomorrow this whole place will be ash?—”
“Son,” he says, the calm firmness of his tone giving me pause. I’ve never heard my father sound or look more resolved than he does at this moment, looking directly at me. “This is my decision. You and Ava, you two get to Ransom. Stay off the main roads as much as you can, and don’t trust anyone along the way.”
I gape at him. “But Dad?—”
“You have the horses if you need them. And you’ve got a good head on your shoulders. I know you’ll be fine.”
“You can’t be serious,” I croak.
“I am. I knew the moment I returned home, I would not leave this place again.”
Acid burns my throat. “But what—what about Kellen? If he’s alive—if he goes to Ransom too?—”
“Then you two will have each other. And you can tell him...” My father’s words catch in his throat, and I see the pain in his eyes, even though he tries not to show it. “Tell him I’m glad he’s okay when you see him.” Not if but when .
My body feels cold and yet everything burns—my chest, my lungs, my goddamn eyes I can barely see through. “You’re really doing this?” My voice cracks like when I was a child, small and helpless.
“Knox,” my father says softly, and I don’t have to break down in sobs to feel like my world is crumbling all over again. I wipe the tears from my eyes to no avail. “Go, son. Get Ava out of here.” When I don’t move, he turns to Ava. “Go on,” he barks at her. “Get that truck started—get out of here!”
She wipes the tears from her cheek and runs to the cab of the truck.
My father grips my shoulder. “Go, Knox. Please.” The words are clipped and mournful, and as much as I can’t stand the man standing in front of me, I don’t want to leave him here—I can’t imagine it.
“If you change your mind—” I lick my dry lips. “You’ll come to Ransom, right?”
After a beat, my father nods, if a bit sadly. “I’ll meet you in Ransom, if I change my mind.”
“You’re insane,” I mutter, shaking my head. But as much as I hate his decision, a part of me understands it too.
“Go on now,” he growls out this time. “Get.” He shoves my shoulder toward the truck. “Ava, get him out of here!” he shouts. “And take care of him for me.” His voice cracks as he turns for the back of the trailer to lock it up.
Ava hurries to me, taking my hand in hers with a squeeze. “Come on.” Her voice is soft but urgent. “We have to get the horses out of here.”
I let her lead me to the passenger door, but as my father steps away from the trailer, I tug my hand from hers. I can’t leave him, not like this.
Turning, I backtrack and wrap my arms around his shoulders, pulling him in for a hug. The last one I will ever get. I exhale emotions so painful it hurts to breathe and inhale the scent of him. “I love you, you stubborn asshole.”
Mitch Bennett’s arms wrap around me, tightening as he kisses the side of my head. “Your mother would be proud of you, son. I am proud of you.”
I squeeze him tighter, holding my breath as if it might freeze the moment. When my lungs burn so much I can no longer stand it, I finally let go, and turning away, I force myself toward the truck without looking back. Every step is excruciating, knowing deep down I will never see my father again, but I push it all aside and walk around the truck, sidestepping Ava. “I’ll drive.”
“Knox, I don’t think?—”
“I said, I’ll drive.” I climb in, gripping the steering wheel so hard my knuckles ache, and wait for Ava to get Lucy into the truck. As soon as the door is shut, I brave a look at my father for the final time. Only he’s gone, his form disappearing into the shadows of the stable. Cursing him, I put the truck into gear and we leave the ranch.