Chapter 24 Harper
HARPER
Okay, so Knox discovered that I had an abusive ex-boyfriend.
Fantastic. Truly. What could possibly go wrong?
I knew it wasn’t fair of me to be angry at Knox. It’s not like he’d texted me with the intention of deceiving me. I’d reread the exchange a dozen times and confirmed what I already knew: I was the one who’d inadvertently spilled my secrets. He’d just been texting me.
But I was angry. I didn’t like anyone knowing about my humiliating past with Silas, let alone Knox. Even if he’d suspected it, I didn’t want him to KNOW it.
Truth be told, I was angry at myself too. Why hadn’t I been more careful when that text came in?
Because it never dawned on me in a million years that an inmate at Coldwater Penitentiary would somehow have access to a cell phone, let alone be using one to check in on me.
But it happened. And now that it did, I had to figure out how to handle this. Mitigate the damage. Convince Knox to stop asking questions.
Knox was already in the infirmary when I arrived.
His eyes found mine the moment I walked through the door.
The look he gave me was a silent declaration. We’re talking about this.
I glared right back. No. We’re not.
I busied myself at the desk, pretending to review charts I’d already reviewed twice. Pretending I couldn’t feel him watching me. Pretending the weight of everything unsaid wasn’t pressing down on the room like a physical force.
Dr. Mercer had a meeting with the warden this morning. Which meant I was alone with Knox for at least the next hour.
Fantastic.
“Harper.”
I didn’t look up. “I’m busy.”
“We need to talk.”
“No. We don’t.” I stood abruptly, grabbing a random folder. “I need to check the exam room’s inventory.”
I headed for the back room, but Knox was faster. He stepped into my path, six foot four of immovable muscle blocking my exit. Not threatening. Not aggressive. Just … there.
“Move,” I said.
“Not until we talk.”
I tried to sidestep him. He mirrored the movement. I went the other way. So did he.
“Knox.”
“Harper.”
I glared up at him. He stared down at me. Neither of us moved.
The thing was, I didn’t feel afraid. That was the insane part.
Any other man blocking my path would have sent me into full fight-or-flight mode.
But Knox? Knox was just standing there, arms loose at his sides, shoulders relaxed, making himself as nonthreatening as a six-foot-four convicted killer could possibly be.
He wasn’t trapping me. He was just … not letting me run.
I could feel the tension radiating off him. Could feel the metaphorical clock ticking before he’d begin his interrogation.
He was absolutely not getting a single word out of me about any of this.
The text exchange had been a mistake. Letting my secret slip had been a mistake. But the biggest mistake came before that, when his handholding had sent a spark of unwanted feelings through me.
I’d had time to think. And it had been a mistake to feel anything for Knox.
In fact, it annoyed me that after he touched my hand, I’d thought about that touch every moment since.
It annoyed me that it somehow felt more intimate than any touch I’d ever experienced in my life.
It annoyed me how that single point of contact felt like a spark lighting some kind of wildfire inside my soul.
But most of all, it annoyed me because despite every effort to the contrary, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
And my traitorous body wanted more.
I was better than this. Smarter than this. In fact, let me count the reasons I could not, should not, feel anything for Knox Blackwood:
One: He was a prisoner. A killer, for God’s sake.
Two: I didn’t believe in second chances. Someone showed you who they were, believe them, and all that.
Three: I needed this job. I could get fired if I did something inappropriate.
Oh, and let’s go ahead and add a big fat number four: Knox had found out about my abusive ex.
Cool. Cool, cool, cool. This was fine. Everything was fine.
“Silas is your ex,” he said.
No question. A statement.
I shot him a death glare. “I’m not talking about this.”
My gaze cut to the lone surveillance camera down by the entrance. We were far enough that no one would see us. Or hear us talking, if the camera had audio.
Fingers found the inside of my thumb, rubbing in that old, anxious rhythm.
“He hurt you,” Knox said. The edge to his voice would have made grown men cower. “He’s the one who gave you that scar.”
I said nothing. Just held his gaze, refusing to break.
“He’s the one who makes you flinch.”
My shoulders crept up half an inch before I could stop them. “Do you seriously think I’m going to tell you about my past?”
“You already told me.” His voice dropped, low and lethal. “He laid hands on you. How many times?”
“This conversation is over.”
Something flickered across his face. Not pain. Not fear. Something darker. He stood perfectly still, watching me with an intensity that made it hard to breathe.
“What’s his last name?”
I laughed. “Yeah. Not telling you that.”
“Why are you protecting him?”
“I’m protecting my privacy. Not him. There’s a difference.” I crossed my arms. “And FYI, I don’t need anyone else solving my problems.”
“Problems?” His voice was barely controlled. “You call a piece of shit who laid his hands on you a problem?”
“I’d also call a nosy inmate a problem.”
Knox’s fingers stretched out slowly, one by one. Not cracking. Stretching. I’d noticed him do that before. It meant his patience was thinning.
“Tell me what happened,” he said.
He wanted details? Yeah. That was an expressway to problems. “Pass.”
“If you don’t, it’s going to eat me alive, Harper.” My name in his mouth. Low. Rough. “I’ll imagine worst-case scenarios. And trust me, you don’t want me imagining worst-case scenarios.”
“That sounds like manipulation if I ever heard it.”
“Manipulation?” Offense flashed through his voice. But after a moment, he let out a slow breath. “That piece of shit made you doubt anyone’s sincerity.”
The words hit somewhere I didn’t expect. I stayed quiet, unsure how to respond.
“Tell me his last name.”
“Never.” I lifted my chin, meeting his eyes head-on. “And FYI, you’re trapped in prison. Even if you wanted to go all protector mode, there’s nothing you can do from in here.”
“Watch me.”
I studied him then. Really studied him. This dangerous man, the most feared inmate at Coldwater, was staring at me with the promise of vengeance burning in his eyes. And somehow, I suspected that if I let Silas’s last name slip, something very bad might happen.
The terrifying part? A dark, hidden corner of my soul wanted something bad to happen to Silas.
I shoved that thought down. Because what the hell? I was not that person. Never had been, never would be. Why had that feeling raced through my head for a split second?
“I don’t need other people fighting my battles for me. And for the last time, I’m not talking about this. If that’s too much for you to understand, you can go mop a floor somewhere and leave me alone.”
His chest swelled up slowly. Held. And eventually hollowed back out. “Fine.” Knox’s jaw ticced. “I’ll stop asking. For now. But know this: I’ll find out the full name of the man who did this to you.”
“No,” I said firmly. “You won’t.”
“If he ever hurts you again—”
I shook my head. “He won’t. I left. It’s over.”
Knox’s eyes stayed locked on mine.
“Over, huh? In the text, you mentioned a note.” His voice had gone low. Dangerous. “The fuck does that mean?”
I stiffened. Of course he’d caught that. Of course he’d filed it away and waited for the right moment to strike.
“It means nothing.”
“Bullshit. What note, Harper?”
“Drop it.”
“Did he threaten you?”
“No. No threat.” I met his gaze head-on, letting him see the steel in my eyes. “And I said, drop it.”
Knox’s jaw worked. I could practically see him warring with himself, the need to know battling against the understanding that pushing harder would only make me shut down completely.
The silence between us stretched, but somehow, the sharp edges of it began to soften. The explosive energy in the room slowly bled away, replaced by something I didn’t have a name for.
Knox took a step back, giving me space. Giving me room to breathe. But he didn’t leave. Just leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching me with those eyes that saw too much.
When Knox spoke again, his voice had gentled. “You don’t need to be so guarded with me.”
“You’re an inmate. I’m a nurse.” I motioned between us. “That’s the extent of this …” I trailed off. What was I going to say? Relationship?
Knox winced slightly at the formality in my tone. “It’s more than that. And you know it.”
I did know it. That touch, his protecting me on my first day, had opened something I didn’t want.
Before the whole text disaster, I’d spent part of my night with heart-shaped emojis practically floating above my head.
After that came the guilt. The what-the-hell-am-I-thinking spiral. Cold reality slapping me across the face. Ice I had to scrape off my windshield in chips of frozen reminders about what was actually happening here.
There was no future with Knox. There was no scenario where I could ever be with him.
“You’re mad at me for more than just the text,” he said.
“You think I’m so easy to read?”
“Hard not to be when I catch every micromovement of your features.” He cocked his head, assessing me with those husky-dog eyes. “Like that. You get this little line between your eyebrows when you’re frustrated.”
I said nothing.
“And that.” He gestured toward my face. “Your lips turn down slightly when I say something that makes you uncomfortable.”
“Can we just drop this?”
“And that’s the tone of voice you use when you’re trying to throw up your professional wall and ice me out on the other side of it.”
Anger surged through me. “You might think you’re good at reading people, but those are just parlor tricks you’ve honed over fourteen years while sitting in prison for murder.”
Yikes. That was … harsh.