Chapter 11
Cami
I didn’t realize I’d grown this attached.
But as I watch the door close behind Dex, it hits me as though letting go of their carrier means letting go of something more.
As we head down the hall and out to his car, Knox doesn’t speak. He simply walks beside me, palm lightly pressed to the small of my back, quiet support while I process.
Somehow, in the short time we’ve known each other, he seems to understand I need space to untangle my thoughts before I let anyone in.
Todd, my ex, never did.
With him, it always felt urgent.
Answers. Decisions. Expectations.
Space to breathe, space to just be, felt like a rare act of forced courtesy instead of an organic act of kindness.
But Knox?
He makes me feel safe being me.
Thank you.
We fall into a comfortable silence as he pulls out of the lot, windows cracked, radio low.
Sunlight filters through the clouds, casting golden ribbons across Knox’s arm as he steers.
Watching him from the corner of my eye, I let myself imagine, for a second, that this could be something more than a borrowed season. That the guy beside me, maddeningly handsome, who makes my heart flutter, isn’t temporary.
I shouldn’t care what becomes of us because caring is not part of our summer-fling deal. But my chest tightens at the thought anyway. “What’s going to happen with the kittens? I mean, once summer ends…when we go our separate ways?”
Knox flicks his gaze to me, briefly, then back at the road.
“I’ve been trying not to think that far ahead.” He blows out a breath, shoulders dipping as he taps the turn signal. “But I’d be lying if I said the thought—you, me, the kittens—hasn’t crossed my mind.”
I shift my gaze out the window: the green-and-red blur of trees rushing by and the steady hum of tires—all of it fading beneath the echo of his answer in my head.
He’s thought about it, too. Stripe and Shadow. Us.
His hand finds mine, our fingers threading before his lips brush the back of my hand in a tender, deliberate kiss.Warmth unfurls in my chest, stealing the breath right out of me.
The last time his mouth touched me was in that hallway, but somehow, this feels more intimate.
I glance down at our joined hands, his thumb brushing lightly across my knuckles, igniting a pulse between my thighs I’ve kept on lockdown for far too long.
As we roll to a stop at a red light, Knox gives my hand a gentle squeeze, his gaze finding mine.
“Fostering’s always meant to be temporary.
” The edges of his words begin to fray. “You go in knowing it’ll end.
Promise yourself you won’t catch feelings.
But then something starts to feel…much more than you expected.
Suddenly, letting go is no longer part of the plan.
” A beat passes before he looks back at the road.
“Maybe we don’t need a plan yet. Maybe we just hold on until we can’t. ”
I fix my attention back toward the window, watching sunrays shift across the windshield.
He’s talking about Stripe and Shadow.
At least, I think he is.
But the truth settles like a stone in my belly because, in a way, Stripe and Shadow represent us.
Temporary. No strings.
Yet, still, I’m feeling things I told myself I wouldn’t.
Knox clears his throat, shattering my wandering thoughts. “How about we pivot to something less heavy? Get to more real stuff.” He slants me a look, one brow raised like he’s about to profess something wildly inappropriate. “Tell me—have you ever had a lobster roll?”
Wait. What?
His question catches me off guard in the best way, a grin tugging at my lips before I can stop it.
“Seriously?” I chuckle. “That’s your version of real stuff?”
“Damn right.” His mouth tips into that half grin I’m sure has melted many hearts. “This is vital information, Cami. Could change the entire trajectory of our day.”
I shake my head, a little embarrassed. “I’ve actually never had one.”
“Never?” He shoots me a mirthful glare. “How are we even co-parents?”
“To be fair, my dad’s allergic to shellfish. Growing up, we never had seafood in the house. By the time I could try it, I just…didn’t.”
“For that, you get a pass,” he says, hand still wrapped around mine. “But, you’ve been missing out on a vital life-changing experience.”
I laugh. “So what, you’re going to fix that today?”
His expression shifts, playful now, the corner of his mouth quirked up. “Let me take you out for your first lobster roll.”
It’s not a demand. It’s an invitation.
And somehow, it makes my heart flip in a way that nothing casual ever should. Note to self: resend my whole body that no-strings memo.
“Sounds like you’re asking me on a date.”
“That’s because I am.”
Harbor Grill sits at the marina’s edge, all sun-bleached wood and nautical charm, with tables spilling onto a salt-worn patio.
Teal trim, faded by years of sea air, frames the doorway, and a hand-painted sign near the oak host stand reads Seat Yourself, so we do, Knox leading us to a shaded spot near the patio railing.
And despite Harbor Grill’s laid-back charm, Knox pulls out my chair as if we’re dining at a five-star steakhouse, a small, gentlemanly gesture most guys don’t bother with anymore.
I settle into my seat as he slides onto one across from me, mahogany eyes blazing with amusement.
Breezy salt air drifts through, rich with the smoky scent of grilled fish. Overhead, seagulls cry, their calls weaving into the low hum of old rock music and the laughter bouncing off occupied tables.
Between us, a sleek tabletop kiosk hums to life, lighting up like it overheard our stomachs growl.
We scroll from opposite ends, calling out mouthwatering contenders like we’re filling bingo cards: seasoned curly fries, coleslaw, iced tea, and of course, those supposedly life-changing lobster rolls.
Knox taps in our order and leans back, gaze playfully warm. “Consider this your official lobster-roll indoctrination.”
“Oh, is that so?” I blink. “And what happens if I fail to be properly indoctrinated?”
He cocks his head, deadpan expression on full display. “Then I’ll report you to the Crystal Cove Cuisine Council. They’ll revoke your beach privileges.”
“Well, in that case, I’ll just embrace Ms. Palmer’s no-sand rule and stay dry.”
He tips his head, his smirk deepening like he already knows the outcome. “Please. You’ll be begging for a second one before we even hit the boardwalk.”
Our server, Sasha, swings by and drops off two tall glasses of iced tea, condensation already beading down the sides. Knox thanks her, then nudges mine closer.
“Alright,” he says, a subtle shift in his gaze, still warm, but seemingly more focused now. “Next important question. I know this wasn’t exactly planned. No candlelit rooftop or gondola ride. But since Dr. Ochoa kind of forced the timing…what would your perfect first date actually look like?”
I lean back in my seat, pretending to think it over even though the answer’s been tucked away for years.
“Well, I haven’t been on a proper first date.”
His brows lift, but he doesn’t interrupt.
“I was a total high-school nerd, plus my dad was insanely strict. When I moved to England and became friends with Todd, my ex, we just kind of slid into coupledom. No first date. No inciting moment. Just, poof, we were a thing.” I let out a bitter laugh.
“Like we ordered the boyfriend-girlfriend label online and never bothered with a return.”
Knox’s smile is gentle, but something flickers in his eyes, like he’s catching more than just the words.
“So…if I were to plan one?” I shrug. “It wouldn’t be anything fancy. Maybe a walk somewhere pretty. Music in the background. Lots of laughing. Good conversation. And I wouldn’t have to wonder if the guy truly liked me or if I was just…” I pause, the word caught in my throat. “…Convenient.”
“Convenient?” The word curdles on his tongue. “Is that how your ex made you feel? Like being with you was…easy access?”
I nod, the truth settling over me like an old coat I thought I’d outgrown.
“You’re not convenient, Cami,” he says, gruff and edged with quiet conviction. “You’re beautiful. Thoughtful. Funny. Kind. Hot as hell. And most of all…worth it.”
My heart stumbles, warmth blooming where doubt had long taken up space. An unwelcome guest, gone. It’s not what he said but how he said it. Deliberate. Effortless. Protective. As though he sees me in a way I’ve never quite let myself hope someone would.
“Knox, I—”
Before I can finish, Sasha returns, balancing a tray with two baskets overflowing with lobster rolls and a tangled pile of crisp, seasoned fries.
“Let me know if you two need anything else,” she says with a wink, then disappears.
As if aware that this moment is getting too tender to hold, Knox grabs a fry and points it at me like a gavel, amusement tugging at his mouth. “Time to begin your official lobster-roll indoctrination.”
I smirk. “You take your role with the Crystal Cove Cuisine Council very seriously.”
“As I should.” He pops a fry into his mouth. “Your taste buds are about to be transformed.”
I lift the lobster roll and take a bite, chewing slowly while his gaze holds steady on mine.
“Well?” He leans in slightly, seemingly bracing for a verdict.
I swallow. “It’s buttery. Fresh. A little smug about itself. But, yeah, I totally get the hype.”
“Phew.” He presses a hand to his chest. “Wasn’t sure how I’d recover if you committed lobster blasphemy.”
I laugh, taking another bite. “You’re lucky this is delicious. Otherwise, I’d be reporting you for lobster roll fraud.”
“Nah, I always back my claims with data.” He takes a bite of his lobster roll, chewing with exaggerated satisfaction. “And I’m right at least ninety-eight percent of the time, give or take a humble brag.”
I narrow my eyes playfully. “Ninety-eight percent sounds suspiciously inflated…”
He grins. “Well, I can also back that up with anecdotal data.” The side of his mouth quirks up. “And a charming smile.”