21. Knox
Knox
Sawyer sleeps for hours. She needs it. I still can’t believe she watched me all night. Not a second of sleep. I can’t help but do the same, moving in as close to her as I can, watching the slow rise and fall of her chest.
My ribs are a dull, constant throb no matter how still I stay, sharper when I breathe deeply. I’d give anything to be able to lie here all day feeling sorry for myself, blaming someone else for what happened and shutting down to wallow.
It’s my own fault. All of this is. And no amount of wallowing or self-hatred will change that. Time isn’t on our side anymore and the only thing left to do is work out the problem—not with my wrecked body. With my mind.
Should ask my dad. David…he’d know. Always knows.
The words have been rattling around in my skull since Sawyer passed out. My first instinct was to write it off—wine and adrenaline and a night of no sleep will make anyone babble nonsense. But the more I sit with it, the less it feels like nonsense.
David Thorne spent years on the inside Aldrich Development before everything fell apart.
If anyone besides my father actually understood what happened with Velocity’s permits, with the ground it got built on, it’s the man sitting in Otisville for crimes I’m not sure he committed.
The man I’ve blamed for the downfall of my family, and the life I’d been trying to build.
I scroll through my phone with one hand, careful not to jostle Sawyer, and pull up everything I saved from the files I found in my father’s office.
The geotechnical report. The soil stability warnings.
The signatures on every document—some my father’s clear as day, others are what I believed to be David’s but now I’m not so sure.
If David Thorne tried to stop this before it happened, he’s the only person left alive who might know exactly how deep it goes. And he’s had years sitting in a cell with nothing to do but think about who put him there.
My phone buzzes against my palm and I flinch at the sound, almost dropping it.
Ella: Dinner tonight? My treat :)
Fuck me.
I stare at the words hoping a solution will magically present itself, guilt curdling low in my gut. There’s no way around it. I’ll have to meet her or risk another visit from Moretti’s psychotic goon. Or worse, put Sawyer at risk. It’s already bad enough that I’m here.
Me: Sounds good. Send me the details.
I lock the screen and set the phone face down on the nightstand.
Let’s hope I can maneuver the drop off with Gia and dinner with Ella in the same night.
I need a good excuse for why I’ve been absent.
As much as Ella doesn’t pry, she’s been getting restless lately.
Asking more questions. And on top of that, sharing her unease with her father.
I swipe through my phone and find the text from Owen’s buddy Tyler R., rereading it. A memorial this weekend. That’s either today or tomorrow then. This could be good. Exactly what I need for Ella to give me some space.
Me: Hey man, sorry I didn’t answer you the other day, work’s been a bitch. Did I miss the memorial?
Tyler texts back almost immediately.
Tyler: Nah man, it’s tomorrow at 6. Coach S is letting us use the football field. Dress casual. Good to hear from you, was starting to think you fell off the face of the earth lol
Tomorrow. That’s perfect. I can make sure everything goes well tonight with Gia, catch dinner with Ella, tell her I’ll be busy with the memorial for a few days, really milk it for everything I’ve got, and that should buy me some time.
Me: I’ll do my best to be there. Thanks for doing this.
A nice vague response, not a definite answer, but something. The pieces are shifting together, this might work. Most importantly, Sawyer will be safe with Gia, and I can go to Otisville to talk to Thorne. Or more likely, we’ll both go.
Sawyer’s phone buzzes on her nightstand, loud enough that she stirs against me, brow furrowing before her eyes even open.
I reach over her carefully, mindful of my ribs, and glance at the screen.
Gia: Ok everything’s set. Meet me at the parking lot on Elm. It’s in between that church and preschool. Bring all your shit too.
Gia: I feel like Matt Damon in some spy movie. Oooh or Keanu. Def Keanu. Should I find us some masks? You know those balaclava types. (Don’t even ask why I know what those are)
Where did Sawyer find this girl? I can’t help but huff a laugh at the image of Sawyer as some kind of masked spy. At least someone’s lightening the tension.
I look down at her, dead asleep against my side, chest rising slow and even, completely unaware that in the next hour, her whole life shifts into a different gear.
It kills me to wake her. She needs the peace and reprieve from all the stress and chaos. I hate it so damn much. But we have to get our shit together.
“Sawyer.” I brush a strand of hair back from her face and keep my voice low. “Hey. Gia’s ready for you.”
She stirs again, this time, cracking her eyes open. There’s confusion in them as she blinks up at me, but then one look at my face, has the last twelve hours barreling back into her expression.
“What time is it?” she asks.
“Almost five.” I nod to her phone on the table. “Gia texted. She’s got the meeting spot set. Elm Street, by the church.”
Sawyer scrolls and a tired laugh escapes her, despite the fucked up situation. “Balaclavas…she’s so funny.”
“I saw. She’s a character, that’s for sure.”
“I genuinely don’t know where she gets this stuff.” She sits up slowly, stretching her shoulders. “I should get up and pack.”
“In a minute.” I catch her hand while she’s mid-stretch.
I’m not ready to leave this bed. Not yet. I take her in, hair a tangled mess, dark circles carved under her eyes from a night spent watching over me instead of sleeping, brow furrowed with worry—and she’s still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
I notice every small detail. How the black ring encircling her irises makes the blue so much brighter. How her top lip has the most perfect, delicate bow. How the fine hair near her temples curl before she tames it, sticking up in all directions.
I’ll never get used to the way she guts me without even trying.
She goes still, studying me for the first time since she woke up—the bruising, the same worry on her face mirrored back—and her expression softens.
“How are you feeling? For real. No lying.”
“Sore. Better than last night.” It’s true enough not to be a total lie.
She reaches out and touches my glasses frame. “I forgot how much I love you in these.”
“Oh, yeah?” I push them up my nose. “It must be the sexy professor look.”
“Shut up,” she says with a laugh. “You look like you in these. The old you before contacts and business suits and that chip on your shoulder. Reminds me of the Knox who’d stay up late reading on the couch.”
My chest swells. “I was so nerdy.”
“No, you weren’t. I loved that side of you.”
I pull my lips into a smirk. “You loved a lot of things about me if I remember correctly.”
“Don’t get cocky, Aldrich.” She can’t tell if she wants to scowl or smile at me and it’s fucking adorable. “I just meant that I missed this version of you.”
“I missed being him too,” I say quietly.
The mood shifts and I regret bringing the conversation down. I don’t know…that’s how I feel. It’s the truth. I miss life before when I didn’t have to play a part for my father, for the company, and now for Moretti.
Sawyer shifts and I reach for her hand, pressing a kiss right in the center of her palm. I hold her there, until she taps my nose with her fingertips. I’m not ready to get up. As soon as we do, this is all over. No more pretending we’re a couple relaxing in bed, reminiscing about better times.
I hate that I’m about to ruin the mood completely.
“You said something before you fell asleep,” I say. “About your dad.”
“I did?”
“You said he’d know. That he always knows. I’ve been thinking about it the whole time you slept. That David must know everything. Not about the embezzling, but we need to ask about that too. But about Velocity and everything to do with Wonder World.”
Understanding dawns on her face, mixed with a hint of trepidation. I know her relationship with her father is rocky, and I never helped the situation back then. But maybe this is my chance to mend things. Fix my fuck ups.
“If he knew, don’t you think he’d have said something already?”
Good point. I think for a minute. Try to get inside my father’s twisted head. He’s a master manipulator, and apparently an expert at hiding evidence.
“I don’t know, but it’s worth a try.” I sit up a little straighter ignoring the ache in my ribs.
“Think about it. Your dad went down for embezzlement he swears he didn’t commit shortly after Velocity went live.
Maybe the embezzling had something to do with that project?
I don’t know, I’m just spitballing here, but David has to have more information than we do. ”
“So we need to visit my father.”
Her saying it out loud makes it real, not just a thought. Her drawn brows tell me she’s not thrilled about this plan.
“We do.”
She’s quiet, staring at the wall. “God, I haven’t visited him since he first went in. It’s been years. I’ve talked to him, of course, but only on the phone.”
I figured she hadn’t visited him. If there was someone who hated David Thorne as much as I did, it was his own daughter. I pull her closer and wrap my arm around her shoulders.
“I’ll be right there with you.”
She turns to look up at me. “Wait, you’re not on the approved visitor list. I should be still, but it takes months. It’s a whole process. I don’t think I can do it alone, Knox. Face him after all this time.”
“Actually.” I hesitate, because this is the part I’ve kept to myself all this time, the part I’m not proud of, especially now. “I already am. Approved, I mean.”
Her eyes go wide. “How?”