Chapter 6
My apartment was quiet when I got home, which was both a relief and unsettling in equal measure.
I dropped my bag by the door and kicked off my shoes, my phone still warm against my ear as I listened to my sister.
“—and then she said my presentation was ‘derivative,’ which is bullshit because half the class did the same topic and I’m the one who gets called out?
” Angelica’s voice was indignant, crackling slightly through the speaker.
“Anyway. I’m gonna be late. Debate team thing ran over, and now we’re getting pizza. ”
“What time will you be home?”
“Like nine? Maybe nine-thirty. Don’t wait up.”
I glanced at the microwave clock: 6:55 p.m. “You have money?”
“Yes, Mom.” Angelica said it with the exact tone of exasperation only a seventeen-year-old could muster. “I’m fine. How was work?”
“Fine.”
“That’s it? Fine? You’re working for Andrew Knox, and all I get is fine?”
I pulled my glasses off and rubbed the bridge of my nose. “It’s work, Angie. It’s not exciting.”
And I’d signed an NDA. A thorough one. The kind that made it very clear I couldn’t talk about Knox’s personal life, habits, apartment, or anything that wasn’t public knowledge. Angelica knowing who I worked for was fine—that was unavoidable—but the details? Those stayed locked down.
“You defended him on a call today. With the GM.”
I froze. “How did you—”
“You texted me about it during lunch, dumbass. You were freaking out.”
Right. I had done that. In a moment of panic, I’d sent her a barely coherent message about stepping into frame and possibly ruining my career on day three. I probably shouldn’t have done that either, but it wasn’t like I’d included specifics. Just my own panic.
“Yeah, well. It’s handled.”
“Did he yell at you?”
“No.” I kept my answer vague. Safe.
“Did he thank you?”
I thought about Knox standing in the doorway, arms crossed, watching me with that unreadable expression. You stepped in. “Sort of.”
“That’s something, I guess.” There was noise in the background, voices, laughter. “Okay, I gotta go. Don’t eat all the leftovers.”
“I won’t.”
“And Matthew?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re doing great. Seriously.” Her voice softened, just a little. “I know this job is weird, but. . . you’re good at this stuff. Okay?”
Something tight eased in my chest. “Thanks, Angie.”
“Love you. Bye.”
The line went dead.
I stood there for a moment, staring at the phone, then set it down on the kitchen counter. The apartment felt too quiet without her. It always did.
It wasn’t much—a one-bedroom that my sister and I had been splitting for the past three years, ever since I had somehow convinced the landlord I could handle the lease.
Ninety days.
I pulled the stack of bills from my bag and spread them out on the counter. Electric. Internet. Angelica’s phone. Groceries had been tight this month, but the first paycheck from the agency would hit next week, and that would help.
I changed out of my work clothes—dark jeans and a sweater that Angelica said made me look “like a substitute teacher, but in a good way”—and pulled on sweatpants and an old Wardens T-shirt, the logo faded from too many washes. My glasses went back on. I felt more like myself.
The Wardens game was already underway when I turned on the TV, the announcers mid-sentence.
“—and that’s another turnover in the neutral zone. The Wardens are really struggling without Knox on the ice tonight.”
I settled onto the couch, pulling the blanket over my lap. On screen, the Wardens were down 2-0, and it showed. Their breakout was sloppy, their forecheck nonexistent. Morrison—the rookie Knox had fought to defend—was getting clobbered in the corners, and no one was stepping up.
“Knox’s presence is sorely missed,” the color commentator said. “Not just his offense, but his physicality. His willingness to protect his teammates.”
I snorted. “Yeah, except he’s an asshole about it.”
The announcers kept going, talking about Knox like he was some kind of martyr. A leader. A warrior. The heart of the team.
I thought about the man I’d spent the last couple days with. The one who couldn’t sit still for more than ten minutes.
The Wardens turned the puck over again. I winced.
“Jesus, Searcy, pass the damn puck,” I muttered at the screen.
On the ice, Knox’s absence was obvious. The power play looked anemic without him quarterbacking from the point. The penalty kill was a disaster. They were hemorrhaging shots, and the goalie—Bennett, a decent backup but not a starter—was getting shelled.
I watched Morrison take a hit along the boards, slower to get up than he should’ve been, and my mind flashed back to Knox’s voice on the call. Archibald targeted a rookie. Someone had to do something.
He’d been right about that, at least.
The announcers cut to a replay, and suddenly Knox was on screen. Old footage, from earlier in the season. He was in full gear, helmet off, hair sweaty and wild, blue eyes blazing as he shoved another player back toward the bench. The camera caught him mid-snarl, all teeth and fury.
My stomach did something weird.
I frowned at the TV.
That was—no. That was just the adrenaline of the game. The energy. It wasn’t—
The replay switched to Knox skating, stick handling through two defenders like they weren’t even there, and I watched the way he moved. Efficient. Controlled. Powerful.
I shifted on the couch.
This was stupid.
The game cut to commercial, and I stood up, stretching. I needed to stop thinking about work. About Knox.
I headed for the bathroom.
A shower would help. Clear my head. I’d been tense all day, and the hot water would—
I turned the shower on and waited for the steam to build, stripping out of my clothes and stepping under the spray. The heat was immediate, sinking into my shoulders, and I closed my eyes.
Better.
I let the water run over me, trying to empty my mind. Tried to think about anything else. The bills. My sister’s debate team.
But my brain didn’t want to cooperate.
Instead, it conjured up the image of Knox in his workout clothes this morning. The way his arms had looked when he’d crossed them.
I exhaled slowly.
Stop.
But my brain kept going. Knox leaning against the counter, coffee mug in hand, watching me with those sharp blue eyes. Knox standing in the doorway after the call, his expression unreadable. Knox’s voice, low and rough: You stepped in.
My hand drifted lower, almost without permission.
No.
I pulled it back.
This was—I couldn’t—
He was my boss. My asshole boss who’d gone through multiple assistants before me, who had a reputation for being difficult and volatile, who I was supposed to be managing, not—
Not this.
I braced one hand against the tile, the water still running hot over my back.
But the thoughts kept coming.
Knox’s shoulders. The way he moved, all coiled energy and restless strength. The way he’d looked at me today, just for a second, like I’d surprised him.
My breath hitched.
This was so stupid.
But my hand was already moving again, and I wasn’t stopping it this time.
I let my head fall forward, water streaming down my neck, and I thought about things I absolutely should not be thinking about.
The way Knox’s voice dropped when he was annoyed.
The way he’d stood too close in the doorway, arms crossed, watching me fumble over my words.
I imagined him closer. Imagined that sharpness turned on me, but different. Heated. Intentional.
I bit down on my lip, my other hand braced against the wall, and I—
Oh, fuck.
It didn’t take long. My mind supplied images I had no business imagining—Knox’s hands, his mouth, the way he’d look at me if I—
I came with a choked sound, my forehead pressed against the cool tile, my heart pounding in my chest.
For a moment, I just stood there, breathing hard, the water still running.
And then reality crashed back in.
Oh my God.
Oh my God.
I straightened up, my face burning.
What the fuck was wrong with me?
I’d just—I’d just gotten off thinking about Andrew Knox.
I turned the water to cold and stood under it until my teeth chattered, trying to shock some sense back into my brain.
This was bad.
This was really, really bad.
I couldn’t be attracted to him. I couldn’t. Not when I needed this job, not when Angelica was depending on me, not when I was supposed to be professional and competent and—
Not this.
I turned off the water and stepped out, grabbing a towel and scrubbing at my face.
It was fine. It was just stress. I’d been tense all day, and my brain had latched onto the first available outlet, which happened to be my stupidly attractive boss who also happened to be a complete nightmare of a human being.
And it had been a while. That was all. I hadn’t had sex since Ben, and that had been long enough that my body was apparently willing to short-circuit over the first remotely attractive man in my vicinity, even if that man was Andrew fucking Knox.
It didn’t mean anything.
I pulled on clean clothes and avoided looking at myself in the mirror.
When I came back out into the living room, the game was still on. The Wardens were down 4-1 now, and Knox’s face flashed on screen again during a highlight reel.
I grabbed the remote and turned it off.