Chapter 21 #2
Sleet plinks on the aluminum. “My ex—Becca—waited until two days before the wedding to decide I wasn’t the guy for her.”
Wait. Left at the altar? “Oh, Knox. Why ever would she do that?” Some women don’t know a good thing even when they hold it in their hands.
His silence feels deep and lasts so long I can practically feel the mound of hurt piled up like shoveled snow. Finally, he huffs. “I wasn’t classy enough for her.”
Oh my goodness. “She said that?” Apparently this Becca person never saw the man attired for a swanky Christmas party. Or noticed him opening her doors or sweeping her into his arms when she couldn’t walk.
Little could have disposed me to be a fan of his ex, but I now dislike the woman by new orders of magnitude.
He sighs. I picture his hand tousling the waves he’d combed into order at the beginning of the night. “In a backhanded way, but yeah, pretty much. She’d always complained about mud when I got in the car, or dirt under my fingernails when we’d grab dinner after work. That kind of stuff.”
“Well, what did she expect? You work at construction sites all day.”
“And that was a problem for her. She said she didn’t want a guy who, and I quote, ‘played in the dirt for a living’.”
“You’re kidding? She said that? Those exact words?”
He’s quiet.
My brain clicks into gear. I said the same thing, didn’t I? Or something very close. “Knox, when I said…whatever I said…I was joking around. I promise.”
“I know you were. I know you didn’t mean it the way she did.” A sigh drifts up from the floor. “You know, if that’s how she felt, fine, but it sure seems like she could have figured things out before invitations were sent to five hundred of our closest friends.”
Probably missing the point, my brain lodges on the massive number of invitees. “Wow. Yeah. I should think so.”
“It was humiliating.”
Of course it must have been, waving off…five hundred people?
Knox doesn’t strike me as a proud man, nothing beyond the healthy, normal-human amount of proud, anyway. My heart rolls with a dull ache. “And hurtful,” I say softly.
The blanket rustles. “I’m fine.”
“Of course you are, but that doesn’t mean the whole thing didn’t suck.”
He coughs as much as laughs, easing the mood that’s stretched taut. “Yeah. It sucked bad.” The way the trajectory of his voice shifts, I think he turns his head. “And you know what sucks even worse?”
“What’s that?”
“You know who Becca decided was classy enough for her?”
A bad feeling fists up my gut. “Who?”
His sigh comes out angry, hurt, and resigned. “My brother.”
My gasp must be loud enough to wake the neighbors. “No.”
“Yes. Rand is the hotshot businessman of the family.”
This just keeps getting worse. “Oh, Knox.” My eyelids squeeze. Secondhand pain is a real thing. “Are they serious?”
“Are you free June 2?”
“Knox Herd, tell me you’re joking. Right now. Say it!”
He snorts. “I wish I could—but nope. Now I need to line up a wedding date.”
I’m a sad, sad case. Worse than poor Knox, even. In the middle of his pain, I find the time to be selfish. Might he have been serious about wanting me as his plus-one?
“The happy news was delivered in person when I went home last week. Right outside Honey’s hospital room. Fun times.”
Beneath the sarcasm lies a smarting wound. I want so badly to get down on the floor with him and hug away the hurt. “I can’t imagine.”
“Well, you know, they had to explain the smooching and handholding somehow.”
Forget this Becca person, I’m not sure I’m going to like this brother of his.
Hold it right there, sister. Who says you’ll meet the guy? “Will you go to the wedding?” I love both my sisters dearly, but…ouch.
Knox stays quiet. In the silence, I realize the pitter-patter of sleet is gone.
His words come softly, like snowflakes that have no choice but to fall. “He’s my brother. I’ll go.”
I smile into the dark room. Time and again, Knox shows he’s a man of character. I prop onto my elbow. “Okay, tell me to shut it if I’m being nosy, but…I can only imagine how it hurt when Becca broke things off, but…this far out, which hurts more? Losing her…or the things she said?”
He doesn’t answer.
“I mean, so what if you do like to play in the dirt? Everyone should have a job they can’t wait to get to in the mornings.”
The echo of a genuine chuckle loosens the knot that’s been sitting in my chest. “Can’t wait is a bit strong. Have you tried playing in the dirt in the middle of December?”
I snicker. “Point taken. But seriously, so what if you’re not the bigshot businessman your brother is? You do what you love.”
He falls thoughtfully silent. “I have a question for you, Everly.”
My heartbeat picks up. “Okay.”
“Would you be happy with a guy who comes home muddy and stinky at the end of the day?”
Me?
Yeah, me. Can he hear my heart pounding in my chest? “Do not let one woman with issues make you doubt yourself.”
His silence clues me in to the deficiency of my response, but before I can right the ship, he moves on.
“Yeah, Becca messed with my head, but it’s not myself I doubt.
I can’t tell you how many times…” I imagine him shaking his head back and forth on the pillow.
“During our last job, up in Indy, I went in to the local bank branch with a deposit. The teller took one look at me and pointed to their automated kiosk. I prefer to deal with a human, but okay, I didn’t argue.
Problem was, the machine wasn’t working right, and when I informed her, she sighed like I was ruining her day. ”
The blanket rustles. It sounds like Knox sits up.
“And?”
“I hand her the check, she calls up the account, and all of a sudden, what do ya know, she’s nothing but smiles. ‘Good morning, Mr. Herd. So happy to help you, Mr. Herd. Come back again soon, Mr. Herd.”
I think I follow. “So, the moral of the story is…?”
“Everly, she saw the LHS account balance and nearly choked on her gum. Suddenly, I was her new best friend.”
“Ugh, that’s so terrible.” Oh, I pray I’ve never done the same, but, well, I am human.
And I admit, I probably stuck my nose a little higher in the air while I was in law school.
Even now, yes, I know a rush of satisfaction when an opportunity comes along to drop that I’m an attorney into a conversation.
People act like it means something, and—true confession—I enjoy those moments.
Shame. On. Me.
“Hey, lady, there’s an awful lot of sighing going on up there.”
“Just a guilty conscience at work. As you know, I’m not above a little snobbery myself.”
He surprises me with a chuckle that’s a low rumble and more upbeat than I expect after outing myself as a pretentious snob.
“Are you saying the guys and I didn’t make a great first impression?”
I love that he’s teasing, because I know he just shared a piece of his heart, one that’s been stomped on and tossed aside. “In my defense, I was in a lousy mood that day.”
“Plus, Mike was there.”
I clamp my hand over a laugh. “That guy needs a muzzle.”
“And a good whupping.”
“For sure.” We share a laugh.
Scooting into the spot Knox vacated, I dangle my hand over the side of the mattress. “Hey.” My fingertips brush his shirt, and he snugs my fingers in his. “Thank you for telling me about Becca.”
“Sure. I just wanted to clear some of the junk out of the way.”
Out of the way of…us? The implication puts my breathing on hold.
Knox adjusts his hand, taking my wrist. His thumb finds its way under the turned up shirt sleeve and sweeps circles on the sensitive underside. “Your skin is so soft.”
And his is calloused from hard work. The meeting of the two makes me gulp. His voice, husky and low, messes with my ability to breathe normally.
“Thank you for taking the bull by the horns and asking me out.”
I love how his smiles are audible. “Thank you for accepting. Tonight was amazing.”
“The night’s not over yet.”
Are we in an oxygen-free zone? Because I literally can’t breathe.
He tugs me closer to the narrow no-man’s land separating us, rising onto his side, making our foreheads touch. “I want to kiss you, Ev.” His words breathe across me.
I can’t seem to formulate the simplest response, but my heart answers, yes, please.
He lets go of my wrist and cups my cheek. His fingers, callouses and all, slide into my hair. Yes, there is oxygen, because suddenly we’re sharing the same air. Every fiber of me clamors for our lips to meet.
But a tremor outside my control rattles me head to toe, because it isn’t outside the realm of possibility that the two of us, this room, high emotions…
Where are the brakes? One of us should definitely stop this train…
Knox’s hand falls. With a groan that fills the room, he eases to the floor.
He’s right. He’s smart.
One of us needed to be—and his decision to be that one settles in the middle of my heart like an encouraging word.
“I refuse to kiss you for the first time in a crummy motel room, Everly Wilkes.”
I lie back onto my pillow wearing a giant smile. First time? Ah, I like the sound of that. It also rattles me with toe-tingling shivers and promises to make sleep all the harder to come by.
My phone by the darkened lamp lights up, vibrating.
“Is your mom checking to see if I’m behaving?”
I snicker, swiping right on the notification. “Yeah, probably a welfare check, and—” I gasp. “Mom says it’s snowing!”
“Yippee.”
“Don’t you dare spoil my moment, Herd. Didn’t you hear me? It’s snowing,” I repeat, emphasis added, since clearly, he’s missing the point.
At least I hope it’s snowing here too. I toss the covers and throw my feet over the side of the bed.
“What are you doing?”
“What do you think I’m doing—ow!” The second my foot meets the floor, my injury screams not so fast, lady.
“Everly, your ankle!”
“I’m good.” No, I’m fantastic. It’s snowing. Any other time, I’d have been channeling my inner child all evening, glued to a weather app, watching, hoping. Knox has made for a mighty fine distraction, allowing the wintry event to sneak up on me.
I step-hop to the door and slide the chain.