Chapter 17 Knox #2
“The noble thing to do would be to keep my distance,” I admitted.
“First of all, there’s no scenario where anything could ever happen between us.
Even if I made parole, there’s no way someone like her would ever be with someone like me.
And second of all, even if there was, I wouldn’t let her.
Even if she hadn’t gone through hell in her past, she doesn’t deserve complications.
And she certainly doesn’t deserve being with a violent criminal out on parole. ”
“So, why do I get the feeling that’s not the end of it?”
I stared at the tattoos crawling up my arms, disappearing under my sleeves.
“I can’t stop thinking about her.”
The admission hung in the air between us. Raw. Uncomfortable.
When Ryker didn’t say anything, it made it somehow worse.
“It’s ridiculous,” I muttered. “I know barely anything about this woman. Why can’t I get her out of my head?”
Ryker was quiet for a moment. Then he leaned forward.
“Look. You’re in prison. The days blur together. Same walls. Same faces. Same goddamn routine. Maybe meeting her was exciting because it was different. New.” He paused. “But look at it this way. Maybe you can use that as motivation to want to get out on parole.”
“Did you not hear what I said?”
“I’m not saying get out on parole to be with her.
I’m saying maybe she can teach you that there’s something to fight for out there.
” Ryker’s voice turned serious. Quiet. “Because if you felt this way about her, you could feel this way about another woman. Life doesn’t have to be gray walls and counted hours.
Life can have so much more meaning, Knox. If you just let it.”
He met my eyes.
“Every time I’ve visited you over the years, there’s been less of you behind those eyes. Like you’ve been slowly wilting. Maybe she watered your flowers. Maybe your soul is starting to bloom again.”
I stared at him. “What are you, a fucking poet now?”
Ryker laughed. “I’m just saying, as much as I don’t want you creating a complication like a crush, maybe I appreciate that she’s making you feel alive.”
Alive.
That’s what she made me feel, wasn’t it?
For fourteen years, I’d been surviving. Going through the motions. Wake up. Work out. Eat. Sleep. Repeat. The days bled into each other until they were indistinguishable. Until I stopped caring whether there was a tomorrow.
But Harper?
She made me feel like there might be a reason to see it. And whatever this was, it ran deeper than any crush.
“Time’s up,” the guard announced from the corner.
Ryker glanced toward the door, then back at me, something clicking into place behind his eyes. His brows furrowed.
“A new employee … she wouldn’t be a nurse, would she?”
I cocked my head. “How’d you know?”
He tested the words. “Her name wouldn’t happen to be Harper, would it?”
I blinked. “How do you know her name?”
Ryker’s head fell back. “Fuck me.”
“You know her?”
“I know her …” He wobbled his head. “Adjacently.”
“The hell does that mean?”
“Time’s up,” the guard repeated, louder this time.
“She’s Faith’s friend,” Ryker said quickly.
“Faith?”
“My girlfriend.”
“I know who Faith is,” I said tersely. “Blake’s sister. How does she know Harper?”
“Neighbors. And now best friends.”
I huffed a breath of disbelief.
Of all the prisons in all the world.
And why did that give me a jolt of something that felt dangerously close to hope? That she had some connection to our group? Like she couldn’t just up and disappear on me. Not fully.
“You’re telling me Faith’s best friend works at my prison, and you didn’t think to mention this?”
“I’ve been buried in a trial for weeks. And in my defense, I never imagined you’d be falling for her.”
He said that last part like I’d committed a cardinal sin.
Ryker stood, buttoning his suit jacket.
“Wait.” I reached into the pocket of my jumpsuit and pulled out a folded envelope. Slid it across the table.
Ryker looked down at it. His jaw tightened. “Knox.”
“Just add it to the pile.”
As my lawyer, Ryker was allowed to receive hand-delivered letters, thanks to attorney-client privilege. Ryker had been holding on to my letters for years now. A shoebox full of envelopes addressed to my daughter. It was safer to keep them at his place than in my cell.
“You sure you don’t want to mail it?” He picked up the envelope, turning it over in his hands.
“I’m not going to force myself into her life while I’m locked up.”
“Then why keep writing?”
I stared at the table. “Maybe a better father would let it go completely. Stop writing. Move on. But I’m a selfish bastard who wants her to know I never stopped thinking about her. Even if she doesn’t find out until I’m out of here and hand her that box of letters.”
Ryker was quiet for a moment. Then, softer: “Or maybe you’re a great father who wants her to know you never stopped trying.”
I didn’t answer.
“You should mail these, Knox. Let her make the choice whether to open them or not.”
“Someday,” was all I said.
Ryker tucked the envelope into his jacket. He didn’t push further. That was the thing about Ryker. He knew when to stop.
He glanced toward the door, then back at me.
Something flickered across his face. “You’re a good guy for sticking up for that nurse.
But it’s not your job.” His voice shifted back into lawyer mode.
Firm. Final. “And you can’t get involved with a prison employee.
The parole board won’t look fondly on that. ”
He paused at the door, looking back at me.
“Stay away from her, Knox.”
The guard led me back toward my cell. Through the gray corridors and past the other inmates who avoided my eyes.
“Stay away from her.”
That ship had already sailed.
And if I was being honest with myself?
I didn’t want to call it back to shore.