34. Knox
THIRTY-FOUR
KNOX
Our forks clank against our pasta bowls as Ava and I have a midnight dinner in the living room. Lucy snores intermittently on one of the couches, and the soft light of the kitchen filters in, washing Ava in a soft glow.
Remotely, I’m thankful for the solar generators, so I don’t have to worry about power right now, and the tower out back with a view of the city if I feel too unsettled and need to check on things. Together, they give me peace of mind. So, I pride myself in Ava’s slightly rumpled appearance instead, and savor what transpired down the hall an hour ago.
If we were still Knox and Ava from last week, it would be awkward between us, but it feels very much the same, only...more. She still looks at me with a thousand thoughts behind her rich, amber eyes I wish I could read better; I still feel baffled by her presence in my life and comforted to have her with me at the same time. But now there’s a secret we share—a heat in her gaze that warms my chest whenever she looks at me.
I take another bite of pasta, silently thanking Julio for this meal and the firehouse for this moment of peace Ava and I find ourselves in. I can sense her scrutinizing me, and swallowing, I glance at her. “What’s that smile for?”
The apple of her cheek rounds with a smirk. “Nothing.”
My eyes narrow, and I try not to smile as her smirk widens. “Tell me.”
Ava forks the last bite into her mouth and shrugs. “I don’t want to dredge up old stuff.”
Lowering my bowl in my lap, I stare at her, expectant.
“It’s just—” She licks her lips. “It’s taken the end of the world for you to look at me differently is all.” She discards her bowl and napkin on the carpet.
My pulse ticks with surprise, but I know what she means by that. Ava has mentioned how much she thought I hated her five times in the past week, and it makes me sick to think she ever believed that. “I’ve already told you. I never hated you or had evil thoughts about you, Ava.”
She gives me a sidelong, incredulous look. “Are you sure about that? There was a lot of glaring and general displeasure when I was anywhere near you.”
I avert my gaze because I can’t argue with that. “That was my guilt showing is all.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well,” I start, scratching the side of my face, “according to my father, I was supposed to hate you—hell, I wanted to,” I confess. “If for no other reason than to stop beating myself up for feeling sorry that you, like me, were caught in the middle of it all.”
Whatever playfulness danced in her eyes becomes thoughtful—almost distant—and as much as I don’t want to dredge up the past, either, I want Ava to understand.
I wipe my mouth, setting my bowl and napkin aside with hers. “I was in the farm store one day,” I explain. “I saw you in the pen with the chicks, changing out their water.” I watch the way Ava’s fingers play with the ends of her hair as I revisit that unsettling moment that’s likely molded every action since.
“You were playing with the most adorable babies, and you still looked...sad. More than that, you looked defeated, almost hopeless.” I watched her smile wane and sadness fill her eyes, and it was gutting, even if I had no idea why. “I wanted to talk to you. I wanted to know what bothered you because you looked miserable, but I felt guilty . Like it was a betrayal to my dad and my family—what was left of it anyway. Julio ruined my life, and whether it was my own grief and misplaced anger or my dad’s constant outbursts, I felt like you held some part of the blame, so it felt wrong not to resent you, too. But I never actually did, Ava. I stopped going into the farm store after that. I figured it would be easier not to think of you, and I’d stop feeling so conflicted if I sent Tony instead.”
Her mouth quirks with sadness. “Was it? Easier, I mean.”
I huff a laugh. “No. Pieces of you were everywhere, Ava Hernandez. I hadn’t realized it until I tried to cut you out of my life, and then it just pissed me off. I’d still see you riding your bike around town or working through the diner window. Or my dad would bring up Julio being out of jail, or I’d have to weed my mother’s gravesite. It was always something.”
“Yeah, I guess that would be terrible.” She picks busily at her fingernail.
“I didn’t say terrible,” I clarify, placing my hand on hers. She looks up at me. “It was just...hard. It would have been much easier if my dad had let it all go. But Mitch Bennett has never let anything go a day in his life.” I lean back, my hand dropping into my lap as I think of him. Of my brother. Of Tony, wherever he is, if he’s still alive. And I think about Scott and Lars and shake my head. “God, even in school, that guy was such a dick. After I graduated, I figured I would hear about some horrible thing he’d done. Probably read about it in the paper.”
“Lars,” Ava realizes. There’s a tinge of shame in her voice that gives me pause. “He was right about one thing.”
“I doubt that.”
“I’m serious.” Ava’s gaze is unfocused and far away. “Think about it. Somehow, I’ve been in the center of it all—what happened at the feed store, what happened with your family, what happened to Scott.” Her brow crumples. “It’s like I’m the cancer and?—”
“Don’t even think that shit, Ava,” I bite out. “One woman is not the cause of all of this. And Lars was a fucking idiot and a menace to society. He’s had a chip on his shoulder his whole life and a screw loose. He made his own decisions, just as you and I have. He just ended up dead because of them. And so did Scott. That’s on Lars, not on you.”
Ava looks at me— really looks at me—as her gaze shifts over my face. I see the doubt in her eyes, like she’s gauging my sincerity. “We’ve been through a lot together, haven’t we?”
“Ten plus years and counting.”
Ava spins her water bottle around on the floor beside her and I realize something. “Our lives have been entwined for as long as I can remember.” I think of seeing her at church on Sundays, that day outside the school, at the diner and around town—always circling each other’s lives in some way, no matter how small or fleeting.
“Small towns are like that, I guess.”
“Yeah,” I breath. “I guess.”
It’s silent as we lose ourselves in the past, unwanted as it might be. What a mess our lives have been. So much grief and disparity. So much wasted time and heartache. Then I remember what she said...“What about you?”
Ava looks up. “What do you mean?”
“ Knox Bennett, I have wanted you since high school ,” I parrot. Ava’s brow twitches with surprise and her tanned cheeks flame red as I repeat her words from earlier. “All those years of awkward run-ins, I could always tell there was something you wanted to say. I just wasn’t expecting your thoughts were anything like that .”
She snorts a laugh and rubs her forehead. “Yeah, well, me neither, but that doesn’t mean it’s untrue.”
“So, you were serious?” Part of me thought it was heat-of-the-moment ramblings. “I’m flattered.” Ava scoffs, and once again, her water bottle is far more fascinating than it should be. “I’m serious. I had no idea.”
“Well,” she drawls, “now you do.” I take a moment to admire Ava’s profile—her bronze skin and the way her dark lashes fan against her cheekbones as she glances down, smiling shyly. Ava is beautiful and the strongest person I’ve ever met, and she doesn’t even know it.
“Thank you,” I say, and she glances over. “For telling me. I know that’s not easy for you.”
Her cheek lifts with a small smile and she shrugs. “I mean, you’re sort of the last guy on Earth. At least it feels that way. So?—”
I bark a laugh. “So, it’s lack of options. Noted.” Ava winks at me, and I toss my napkin at her. “Brat.”
We sit in companionable silence for a moment, but the longer it stretches the more uncomfortable it begins to feel.
“Should we talk about it?”
Her eyes snap to me. “About what?” She glances toward the bunkroom. “Talk about that ?”
I grin, unable to help myself. “We never talked about the kiss on the road eith?—”
“I thought we silently agreed not to.”
“Ava, I don’t think that’s a thing .”
With a grumbled sigh, she turns to face me, and the quirk of a smile threatens the corner of her mouth. “Fine.” She grabs a pillow off the recliner, shoves it between her back and the couch, and settles in. “Let’s talk about it.” She’s testing me, trying to call my bluff.
Chuckling, I climb to my feet. “Calm down, turbo.” I collect our dirty bowls. “I need provisions if we’re going to have this conversation.”
Ava gets up, grabbing our dirty napkins and her empty water bottle before joining me in the kitchen. “Provisions, you say?”
“Yeah, I could use something stronger than water.”
“Ooh.” She claps her hands with excitement. “I like the sound of that.”
My grin widens. We’ve never had this levity between us, and it feels nice. Tomorrow will bring enough troubles without us having to dwell on them tonight; I’m not ready to let reality back in yet. “Don’t get too excited.” I set our dishes in the sink and turn to the floor-to-ceiling pantry. A bottle of wine stands on the top shelf all by its lonesome, and I reach for it.
“What exactly,” Ava starts, “are firefighters doing with alcohol in the station?”
“Not drinking it, if the layer of dust is anything to go by.” I angle the bottle away from us and blow the loose particles off. When that doesn’t work, I wipe the label with a paper towel. “Stag’s Leap. Napa Valley Cabernet Sauvignon. 2016. I have no idea if it’s any good.”
Ava and I look at each other, and she shrugs. “No one else is going to drink it.”
I can’t help that my eyes go to her ample chest as she casually shoves her hands in her back pockets, and I avert my gaze before Ava notices. “What do you think the odds are we find a corkscrew around here?”
Ava’s grin turns devilish, and she holds up her finger. “Please hold.” She spins on her heel and patters across the kitchen barefoot, snags the flashlight on the counter by the door, and steps out into the backyard. She murmurs something, probably to the horses, but her words are indistinct.
Lucy saunters in from her napping couch. She eyes the half-empty bowl of dog chow by the fridge as if it has a disease. “Oh, we’re playing that game tonight, are we?” Rolling my eyes, I grab the gallon-sized Ziploc with her food and put another handful into her bowl. “Low and empty are not the same,” I tell her. Though we’ve had this one-sided conversation for years, I know she can understand me. Lucy’s doggy eyebrows arch, her butt wagging merrily like it’s dancing to “Gotcha, sucker,” and she happily munches away on her midnight snack.
Ava returns, beaming as she holds up a corkscrew. “I saw it in their grilling stuff earlier.” It’s old school and a little rusted, but it will work, and I pry it open.
“Good find.” I raise my palm for a high-five.
Ava winks and slaps her hand to mine. It’s warm and small, and I immediately think of her fingernails digging into my ass on the bed earlier. “Ah, why don’t you?—”
“I’m on it,” she chirps, and I watch her backside as she jaunts away. Those hips were my handlebars an hour ago, her legs wrapped around me like a vise. It all happened so fast, and I barely savored any of it. Her curves and skin. That scent of hers that drives me mad...
“I can feel you watching me,” she says, opening the cupboard across the kitchen.
Biting back a smile, I refocus on the wine. By the time I uncork it, all the cabinets behind me have been opened and shut, and Ava returns with two cups.
“Here.” She holds out two mugs. “These will have to suffice as fancy wine glasses.”
“Seems adequate,” I muse. “I wouldn’t know how to hold a wine glass anyway.”
“Pinkies out,” Ava drawls. “Obviously.” She holds up a World’s Best Grandpa mug. “I want this one.”
“Which leaves me with...” I read the other mug. “Potter County Chili Cook-off 2003.” My eyebrow raises of its own accord.
“I bet it was magical,” Ava quips, and we head for the living room with our libations. We resume our seats on the carpet, slightly closer to each other than before.
“So,” Ava starts, “we’re really going to have this conversation, then?”
I nod as she crosses her legs and props the pillow behind her back again. “Why aren’t we sitting on the couch?” I ask, perusing the giant sectional and the two La-Z-Boy recliners we could choose from.
Ava’s expression dims. “Habit, I guess.” She holds her mug out for a splash of wine.
“What does that mean? You didn’t have a couch at home?” My chest cinches at the thought because I know she didn’t have two jobs and live in a trailer park because she was made of money.
“Thanks,” she murmurs when her cup is half full, and I pour mine next. “We had a couch. It was a loveseat, but it was Mavey’s seat. I wanted it that way.” She waves the conversation away. “Our place was small. We didn’t have room for much. We can sit on the couch if you want.” Ava splays her palm on the floor to get up.
“No—” I reach for her. “It’s fine. I was only curious.” I clear my throat before the tension can settle in, and I raise my mug. “To Potter County.”
Ava’s smile returns. “And good wine.”
“Don’t jinx it,” I mutter, and we both take a sip. It’s earthy and robust and makes my mouth pucker. But I don’t hate it.
Ava swirls it around in her cup before taking another sip, like she’s done this before. “Not bad,” she murmurs. “Is it weird that I taste tobacco?”
“I taste tree bark, so I’m going with no, that’s not weird at all.”
We laugh and take another drink. “Delightful.” Ava licks her lips, and leaning back, she nestles her mug in her lap. “So, I take it you don’t drink much wine, then?”
“Is it that obvious?”
She nods forlornly. “You didn’t use your pinky. So, it’s very obvious.”
“What can I say? I’m more of a beer and whiskey kind of guy.”
“So I gathered.” Ava’s brow lifts with amusement. “When we were at your house,” she supplies. “I think you’d had a bender the night before I got there, if the empty bottle and decanter in the living room were anything to go by.”
“God.” I shake my head. That night, my dad left, and I couldn’t reach my brother. “That feels like ages ago already.”
“I know, it’s crazy.” She picks at a loose tuft in the carpet.
“What about you? What’s your drink of choice?”
Ava shrugs. “Honestly, I don’t drink a lot. But my go-to would probably be vodka or tequila.”
My eyes widen. “Really? Are you a party girl, and I didn’t know?”
“Such a rager,” she deadpans. “I did have wine on a date once. Then I proceeded to get plastered because the company was so deplorable.”
I wince to cover up my disdain for this person, whoever he is. “That bad, huh?”
“Um, yeah.” She shakes the bad memory away.
“Well, you’re not the only one. I’ve had some doozies too.” I will probably regret this, but I want Ava to know something about me that isn’t tied to our past. “Do you remember Caroline Masterson?”
Ava frowns. “The girl who got caught giving Professor Grady’s TA a blow job in the chem lab at Southwest? Everyone at the diner was talking about it.” Ava’s mouth quirks in thought. “Was she dating you when that happened?” My expression must say it all because her hand flies to her mouth to hold in a laugh. “I’m so sorry. That’s not funny, but I laugh when I’m nervous.” It is slightly humiliating, yet Ava’s expression is priceless. I’ve never seen her smile so damn much, and I wouldn’t change it for the world.
I chuckle. “It’s okay. It was five years ago, and we dated for like a month. It was no big deal.”
Ava shakes her head. “How did I not know any of this?”
“Ha! I didn’t exactly announce it to anyone, Ava. And you and I weren’t exactly friends.”
“True. But still. That had to suck in the moment.” Ava’s eyes flick to mine, lingering a second before she picks up her mug to finish her wine. “She’s an idiot for doing that to you,” she mutters. Ava licks her lips as she pours herself another splash. “More?”
I hand her my cup. “Has there been anyone?” I ask, uncertain where the words come from but wishing I could stuff them back down my throat. Instead, they just keep flowing. “Anyone special. Someone you thought might be the one ?”
Ava props her elbow on the couch, her temple resting on her fist. “I’ve been too busy working and taking care of Mavey to date. It’s been a couple years, at least. In fact, the people closest to me are my bosses and coworkers. Or they were. It’s pathetic, really.” She grumbles the last part.
“Don’t.” I shake my head, tired of her self-loathing. “Don’t diminish all your hard work and all you’ve sacrificed to keep Mavey comfortable, Ava. Not to mention how much you’ve struggled to support yourself, too, along the way.” I take her hand in mind. “I’m serious.”
A small, tentative smile trembles on her lips. “You’re right. And I wouldn’t change any of it. I mean, my health stuff, of course—and I would take Mavey’s pain away if I could have, but—” Ava shakes her head. “I would never change my caring for her. I was happy to do it. I owed it to her.”
“She got something out of it, too, you know?”
Ava’s eyes shift to mine again, a sudden gleam in them.
“I didn’t know her well,” I admit, “but any woman who takes in a little girl and raises her when she doesn’t have to does it because she cares. Yes, Mavey helped you, but I promise you were more to her than just a kid to clothe and a mouth to feed. She cared about you.”
Ava’s eyes well with tears and she offers me a watery smile. “Thanks, Knox.”
“You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met, Ava.” I can’t help the reverence in my voice despite trying to keep my cool. “I wish you could see it.”
Her nostrils flare. “Not always.”
I miss the smile brightening her face, but she needs to hear this. “You’re allowed to have bad days and doubts, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re a fighter and far more compassionate than I think you want to let on.” My jaw aches and I clear my throat. “Every time I think about our lives before all of this, I feel like complete shit.”
“What? Why?”
“Because—” I shrug, itchy in my own skin. “If I’d talked to you even once, of all the times I’d wanted to, I would have known how amazing you are. I could have taken you to a doctor’s appointment so you didn’t have to ride that stupid bike that always broke. I could have helped you with Mavey or taken you on a date.” I exhale a shaky breath of frustration. “I wasted so much time hiding from you. What sort of coward does that? All it would have taken was me saying hi instead of turning in the opposite direction, and we could have been friends.”
Ava smiles, and I do a double take. Not a this-is-hilarious sort of smile, but a pleasantly surprised one. She looks at me so long and with so much softness, it gives me butterflies.
“What?”
Ava’s smile curves into a grin. “You would have asked me on a date?”
I groan and rub my hands over my face. “That’s what you’re focusing on?” She looks almost giddy, and it’s fucking adorable.
“ Duh .” She inches closer on her knees. “I can’t even imagine you asking me out on a date or what my knee-jerk reaction would’ve been. But,” she says with a pop of her lips, “I know I would have said yes.”
I grimace. “Gee, thanks. Lather the regret on a little thicker.”
Ava chuckles and rests her hand on my arm. “I’m only giving you a hard time, Knox.” She gives me a slight squeeze. “I honestly don’t know if I would have said yes. I had a lot going on. I couldn’t afford any distractions. Not to mention, trust is not something I dole out very easily.” She exhales, and the lightness between us dims. I don’t want to lose her to the past again, and I cup her cheek.
Ava’s eyes snap to me.
“I was an idiot,” I whisper. I stare at the copper flecks in her eyes I’ve come to memorize, and the way her long lashes accentuate her natural beauty.
“You still are,” she whispers, and as Ava’s eyes close, she kisses my palm. “Because even after everything we’ve been through, I’m right here. I haven’t gone anywhere.” Her lashes flit open, and her whiskey-colored gaze gleams with a wistful longing, making every inch of my body stir.
So, I kiss Ava because it’s all I can think about. And since the bedroom earlier, it’s been all I could do not to explore her body all over again.
My fingers thread the hair at the nape of her neck, and I inhale. Our tongues already know this dance, seeking each other out again. Ava tastes like wine and smells like citrus, and I want nothing more than to bury myself inside her. To worship her body and help her shed the worries that have always weighed her down. To show her how amazing she is and make love to her right here because we may never get another chance...and the reality of that burns like acid in my chest.
Groaning, I rest my forehead against hers. “I don’t have a condom.”
Ava strums the hair on the back of my neck, her chest heaving as she pulls away. “Well,” she says with a sigh. “It’s a good thing I have an IUD—it’s the most reliable method with all of my meds.” She looks me in the eyes. “And unless there’s anything else I need to worry about with you?—”
“God, no.”
“Then,” she says, licking her lips. Her eyes twinkle with anticipation. “What are you waiting for?” Despite Ava’s bravado, I see the uncertainty in her expression. The desire in her eyes just barely overshadows her vulnerability.
“You,” I breathe. I rise to my feet and gather Ava into my arms, kissing her long and deep—worried that she’ll vanish before I can show her everything I can’t find the words to say. “I think I’ve been waiting for you.”