Chapter 13 #3
“I mean, at the end of the year, when his mental health sabbatical is over and he’s back at Bormon Klein Jacovic, where is he going to live?
Wait, are you two getting a place together?
Makes sense that you’re gonna want something bigger than his one-bed.
Once upon a time, I considered having someone move in with me.
” He shuddered. “But the idea of having his sneakers in the same closet as my sneakers was—"
“Knox is taking a mental health sabbatical,” I repeated, not sure I’d heard right—or, more accurately, horrified to think I might possibly have heard right.
“Yes, I know,” Myles agreed slowly. “He must be dying to be back, too. He was pissed when his boss and the other higher-ups forced him to take time off, and probably more pissed that he needed it, but he seemed to be feeling fine at my party, so all that mantra shit must’ve worked.
I’m sure he’s bored to tears up in the back end of nowhere.
” He smirked and looked me up and down again.
“Though clearly he’s found a distraction, hmm? ”
The elevator doors opened while I was still too tongue-tied to respond.
“Later, Gage! Nice to see you again. Tell Knox I’ll be in touch,” Myles called, taking off down another hallway like he hadn’t just ruined my day.
Or, okay, that was unfair. He hadn’t ruined my day; Knox had. Because there was no doubt in my mind that Myles was right and I was not. All the broken-off sentences and unanswered questions from every conversation Knox and I had ever had about the future slotted perfectly into place.
Knox had been planning on going back to the city all along.
And not only was I incredibly worried about that, because I didn’t believe for a second that Mr. “Push Through and Don’t Talk About Your Feelings” was making the best and most responsible choice for his mental health, I was also hurt—more than I probably had any right to be—because Knox had quickly become my confidant. My person. My safety.
But while I’d been catching all these feels, and sharing shit about my life goals and my family, and thinking maybe the two of us cuddling on the sofa watching old movies capital-M Meant capital-S Something… Knox had kept this huge thing from me. He hadn’t trusted me with it.
Despite all the snarky comments he’d made about me being a youngster, I’d never felt deep down like Knox regarded me as anything but an equal… until that moment, when it hit me that Myles, Knox’s once and future fuck buddy, knew more about Knox’s plans than I did.
And that killed me.
Adding insult to injury, when Knox’s truck pulled up at the curb, my first impulse was to lean over the console and hug him tightly, to let him stroke my back and demand all the details of my meeting, to pour out all my confusion about Rubicon, and my future, and my hurt over his lie, and to let him give me one of those grumpy lectures that always made me feel better.
How sad was it that those little lectures that had once driven me crazy had become my favorite part of the day?
But when he lectured about something—whether it was the right way to eat an apple, or how you should never invest in anything you don’t understand, or why Sebastian Stan as the Winter Solider was one of the most underrated performances ever because the subtlety of his body language made up for his lack of dialogue—it felt like he did it because he valued me and my opinion.
Like he wanted me to understand why he believed what he believed. Like he wanted me to understand him.
It seemed like I’d been wrong about that, too.
“I’m guessing it didn’t go well?” Knox said eventually, breaking the silence. “Listen, the interview is only one tiny part of the hiring process, okay? Your resume is fucking solid. And I told Jason you were really good at your job. This is not a hopeless situation.”
You said I walked on water, I wanted to remind him. But hopeless was a good word for how I felt.
“Even if the interview part didn’t go well—”
“Can we not talk about it?” I interrupted.
“But… Gage, you always want to talk.” Knox gave me a worried look I pretended not to see.
“Not today.”
“Okay, sure. You’re probably talked out, huh, baby? Let’s go back to my place, and we can find another old movie to watch. We’ll order Indian or some other kind of food we can’t get in the Hollow and just chill.”
His voice was as warm as sunshine, soft as a warm blanket, but I couldn’t feel comforted. Even his sweet, murmured “baby” made my bruised heart ache.
“You can get Indian food in Little Pippin Hollow,” I said woodenly. “Turmeric House makes a great butter chicken.”
Knox was silent for a second. “I didn’t know that.”
I smiled tightly. “The great Knox Sunday doesn’t know something? Are you sure?”
After a beat, he said, “Okay, did I do something wrong?”
“No. Not really. I did.” I’d let myself believe in something that wasn’t true. I’d broken the rules we’d set up for our relationship. I scrubbed a hand over my face, frustrated with myself. “I think I’d like to just go home to the Hollow. I’m done with Boston for right now.”
We changed clothes and collected our things from Knox’s sterile condo and got on the highway.
Unlike the ride down, the trip north was pretty quiet.
We listened to the radio and talked in generalities about Halloween and the work I’d done on Jack’s restaurant website, but it was far from pleasant.
Even the sky was gray, and the radio DJ talked about a storm moving across the northeast, though a warm-up would be on the way later in the week.
I could feel the weight of all the questions he was holding back—Knox wasn’t a person who handled waiting well—but I didn’t want to have some drawn-out, angsty conversation, especially not while we were stuck in the car.
When we finally pulled into the gravel driveway and parked, it was midafternoon, and Knox had finally run out of patience. He cut the engine and turned toward me.
“Okay, you’re officially scaring me now. You’ve hardly spoken in hours. I offered to stop for an early dinner, and you said no.”
I shrugged. “I’m not hungry.”
“Baby, the only other time I’ve known you to be not-ravenous was when Aiden was missing. What gives? If I fucked up…”
I blew out a breath. “No. I told you. It was me. I got some things wrong, and I’m annoyed at myself. But I don’t want to talk about it.”
“But—” Knox began, getting out also.
“Gage! Knox!” Webb waved as he jogged down the steps from the back porch.
“Hey! Shit, I’m so glad to see you guys!
I thought you were staying an extra day?
” Without pausing for an explanation, he went on.
“I need a massive favor. I finally called that lawyer you suggested, Knox, and he has an opening. Now.”
“Wait, you called him?” Knox demanded. “Finally? Has hell frozen over?”
“I know, I know.” Webb held up a hand. “I’ve been a stubborn ass, but it was time.
Helena Fortnum met me in the frozen food aisle at the Spence this morning and casually mentioned that Principal Oliver’s been talking to the teachers at the school about how terrible it is for boys to be raised by single parents, and how sometimes non-custodial parents have to fight for their rights.
” He gave us both a significant look. “Seems like Amanda’s not going away this time. She’s gearing up for a custody fight.”
“Shit. I’m sorry, Webb,” I said. “But I’m glad you’re talking to someone.”
He nodded. “Same. But Aiden’s gonna be getting off the bus in about twenty minutes, Marco’s at an appointment, and Drew can’t walk all the way down the driveway on his boot. I was gonna call Murray, but if you two are around…”
I looked at Knox, who nodded reluctantly back in a way that said our conversation would be tabled temporarily.
“We’re around,” I confirmed. “Go meet with the lawyer.”
There wasn’t much of anything I could do for my personal problem, but at least I could help Webb with his.