Chapter 29 Safe in His Arms
Knox helped me stand, one hand steady at my back, the other closing gently around my elbow to keep me balanced. The hallway felt too bright, too loud, and I leaned into him without meaning to. He did not comment, just adjusted his hold so I would not sway.
As we reached the hospital entrance, Nathan was already waiting with the car. He stepped forward immediately, opening the back door.
“Miss,” he said with a respectful nod.
Knox guided me inside, one arm around my waist, the other bracing my elbow. He helped me sit, then buckled the seatbelt himself, his fingers brushing my cheek as he moved a strand of hair away from the bandage on my nose.
The touch made something warm and fragile settle in my chest.
As he closed the door, a sudden panic hit me.
“My bag,” I whispered. “I do not have my bag. I dropped it in the garage, or .. I do not know, I…”
Knox slid into the seat beside me and took my hand. “I have it.”
I blinked at him. “How?”
“My security team went to the scene,” he said. “They secured your car and collected your things. Your bag is here. Do not worry about anything tonight.”
Relief washed through me so fast it made me dizzy.
Nathan pulled away from the hospital smoothly, the city lights blurring past the windows. Knox kept my hand in his, thumb brushing slow circles over my skin.
Halfway home, he spoke quietly. “You can come to my place. I can take care of you better there.”
“No,” I said softly. “I want to go home.”
He studied me for a moment, then nodded. “Then we will go to your house. But I am staying. I am not leaving you alone tonight.”
I did not argue.
The car fell into a quiet rhythm, the city lights sliding across the windows, and for a moment my mind drifted to the last three days.
Since the weekend, nothing had been defined. We had not labeled whatever this was. We had not had the talk. We had not said what we were or what we were doing.
At the office, no one knew. At least, not officially.
But people were starting to suspect. Knox did not hide the way he looked at me anymore.
He did not even try. His eyes found me across rooms, across meetings, across hallways.
And sometimes, when he guided me somewhere, his hand settled on the small of my back, lingering longer than necessary.
No one said anything.
But they watched.
I knew we could not stay in this space forever, half-spoken and undefined. Sooner or later, we would have to decide what we were doing. Where we stood. What this was allowed to become.
All I knew was that he was here.
And I was leaning on him more than I should.
More than was safe.
Because depending on someone was dangerous.
I had learned that in another life, with another man who had broken me in ways I still carried in my bones. I had promised myself I would never let anyone get that close again.
Yet here I was, letting Knox hold me together.
When we reached my house, Nathan parked and stepped out to open the door. Knox helped me out, his arm wrapping around my waist again, holding me close as we walked inside.
Before Nathan left, Knox turned to him. “Bring me some clothes.”
Nathan nodded. “I will be back as soon as I can.”
The moment the door closed behind us, the exhaustion hit me like a wave. My head throbbed, my body ached, and all I wanted was to lie down.
Knox guided me to the bedroom, his hand steady at my back. “Let’s get you ready for bed.”
I did not argue. I barely had the strength to stand.
He helped me change into my nightgown, moving slowly, carefully, making sure he did not jostle my bruised face or my aching head. When I swayed, he caught me instantly, one arm around my waist, the other steadying my shoulder.
“Easy,” he murmured. “I have you.”
He even helped me brush my teeth, holding the cup for me when my hands trembled too much.
It should have been embarrassing.
It wasn’t.
When he finally eased me onto the bed and pulled the blanket over me, I felt myself sinking into the mattress, heavy and exhausted.
“Sleep,” he said softly. “I will be right outside.”
I closed my eyes, too tired to do anything else.
I drifted in and out, the room quiet except for the faint sounds of Knox moving around the house. At some point, I heard a knock.
Nathan must have returned.
A moment later, Knox returned to the bedroom. I felt the mattress dip as he sat beside me. His hand brushed my hair back from my forehead, slow and gentle.
“Your car will be brought here tomorrow,” he said quietly. “Everything is arranged.”
I nodded weakly, eyes still closed.
I heard the soft rustle of fabric as he changed, the zipper of the duffel, the quiet thump of his clothes being folded or dropped somewhere out of the way. When I opened my eyes for a moment, he was standing at the edge of the bed in nothing but his boxers, the room dim around him.
He climbed in carefully, moving slowly so he would not jostle me. He stayed still for a moment, giving me space, waiting to see if I would come to him.
I did.
Or maybe my body did on its own.
I shifted toward him, and he wrapped an arm around me instantly, pulling me gently against his chest. His warmth seeped into me, steady and grounding, his hand resting at my waist, his thumb brushing slow circles against my skin through the fabric.
Only then did I feel safe enough to sleep.
I drifted somewhere between sleep and waking, the pain in my head pulsing slowly behind my eyes. At some point my phone vibrated on the nightstand.
Once. Then again.
Knox shifted beside me. I felt the mattress move as he reached across me and picked it up. He glanced at the screen, then slid out of bed carefully, trying not to wake me, and stepped into the hallway before answering.
I heard his voice faintly through the doorway.
“Yes, Amy.”
“No. She’s sleeping.”
I couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation, only Knox’s quiet replies.
“She’s safe.”
“Yes. Someone tried to abduct her in the garage.”
“No, she’s not alone.”
“She has a concussion. Bruised nose. Nothing life-threatening.”
His voice dropped slightly, colder.
“Yes. I’m aware the building security failed.”
“No. Don’t come tonight. She needs rest.”
A few seconds later he returned to the bedroom. The mattress dipped as he slid back beside me, his arm wrapping around me again and pulling me gently against his chest.
Half asleep, I murmured, “Amy?”
“Yes.”
I let my eyes close again.
“She’ll be here in the morning,” he added.
That sounded exactly like Amy.
His hand resumed the slow circles against my side.
“Sleep,” he murmured.
This time, I did.
The nightmares came in waves.
I would fall asleep for an hour, sometimes less, before they dragged me under again. The parking garage bled into another place, another time. Concrete walls turned into locked doors. The sound of tires became the sound of a door slamming shut. Hands on my arms, my hair, my throat.
I tried to scream, but my voice would not come. My chest tightened, my lungs locked. I woke up choking on air.
Before I could even orient myself, Knox was there. His arm wrapped around me instantly, pulling me against him, his chest solid and warm under my cheek.
“Hey,” he murmured. “I have you. You are safe.”
My body shook uncontrollably, my muscles locked in panic even as my mind caught up. I pressed my face into his chest, breathing in his scent, grounding myself in him.
“It was just a dream,” he whispered. “You are here. With me.”
His hand moved slowly up and down my back, steady and patient.
The trembling eased, inch by inch.
Another nightmare ripped through an hour later.
Then another.
Each time, this life and my past life tangled together into a horrific blur. Concrete became walls. The garage became rooms with no exits. Voices layered over each other until I could not tell which ones were real.
Each time, Knox woke without complaint.
He whispered reassurances in the dark. Brushed my hair back when it stuck damply to my face. Held my face gently between his hands and pressed his forehead to mine until my breathing slowed to match his.
In. Out.
In. Out.
“You are safe,” he repeated. “Nothing is going to happen to you.”
After the last nightmare, sleep did not return.
I lay awake listening to his breathing, feeling the solid warmth of his body against mine. His arm rested heavy across my waist, protective without trapping me.
I knew how this ended if I wasn’t careful.
I had loved before.
Trusted before.
Given too much before.
Yet there I was, curled against a man whose presence quieted the fear in my bones, whose arms felt like safety. And the thought that scared me most was not the nightmares.
It was the realization that I might already be falling in love with him.