Chapter 30
Knox
Amber rays filter through the orchard trees as I shut my car’s trunk with a quiet thud, our last bag packed inside. Vermont’s morning air is laced with apples and dew, and for a second, I wish we weren’t leaving today.
We all gather on the front porch, wood creaking beneath our shoes as laughter drifts between the columns.
Grandma presses a paper bag into Cami’s hands.
“Some biscuits in case you get hungry before Connecticut. There’s extra apple butter in there and a few small bottles of that yummy maple syrup, too.
It’s our favorite. And I already gave Knox a basket of apples from the orchard,” she adds with a wink. “So you’re set.”
Cami’s smile softens. She brings the open bag to her chest, the buttery scent reaching me even from here. “Thank you so much, Hazel.”
Mom steps forward, arms wrapping around her. Cami stiffens for a half-second, then melts into the embrace. “You’re welcome here anytime,” Mom says against her hair. “No invitation needed.”
Cami blinks quickly, the corners of her mouth trembling. “That means a lot.”
I shift my weight, the porch rail cool under my palm. A lump in my throat forms, uninvited. Goodbyes have never been my thing.
To think I came up here to check on Grandpa and ended up falling deeper for a woman who slammed into my life in all the right ways. And somehow, my family’s fallen for her, too.
Grandpa—who insisted on walking yesterday just to prove he still could—is perched on the wheelchair he hates, a fleece blanket across his lap like he’s holding court.
“Don’t let my grandson overthink things,” he tells Cami, wagging a frail finger.
“He’s got a bad habit of turning simple into complicated. ”
“I’ll do my best.” Her contagious laugh makes us all laugh, too.
Grandpa flits his gaze to me. “And you better come back here soon.”
Walking over, I crouch beside him. “I will. Promise. You feeling okay?”
He shrugs like the weight of seventy-nine years is nothing. “Better than a few days ago. That’ll do.”
“You worried me, old man. No more falls.” I give his shoulder a gentle squeeze.
“Pulled that stunt to get you here.” His bushy, gray brows lift. “And it worked.”
Grandma comes up beside him with a shake of her head. “Now come on, Sy. You know Knox was just here two months ago.”
“Yeah, but this visit wins,” Grandpa mutters. “He brought good company.”
I lean in and kiss Grandma’s cheek. “Thanks for having us, and for not grilling me too hard.”
She pats my arm. “I liked her from the second she walked into that hospital room. Her aura is infectious. Oh,” she adds, “be sure to tell Millie that Cami loved my appleberry pancakes.”
I laugh. “Here we go again. The great appleberry-pancake war of Crystal Cove.”
More hugs are exchanged before Cami and I circle toward the car where Mom’s waiting.
“Text when you get there,” Mom says, pulling me into a hug. “And keep me posted, okay?”
“I will,” I say.
She nods once, like we’ve made a secret deal, then rises on her toes and kisses my cheek.
I climb into the driver’s seat, and Cami’s already buckled in, staring out at the trees like she’s trying to memorize them.
“You okay?” I squeeze her thigh.
She nods, then glances at me. “Didn’t expect to feel so…welcome. Like I’ve been coming here for years.”
“You fit right in,” I say. “They’re already asking when you’ll visit again.”
She smiles and flicks her attention back out the window.
Gravel crunches under the tires as we ease down the drive. I glance in the rearview mirror once. Mom’s still waving.
As I turn onto the main road, the house behind us disappears between rows of trees, and I can’t help but wonder if Cami will still be with me when I come back.
Only five minutes into the drive, and Grandpa’s warning lingers in the back of my mind like a hitchhiker who climbed in somewhere between their house and the interstate.
Don’t let my grandson overthink things, he told her. And now, here I am, doing exactly that.
Two days have passed since I told her I love her, and she hasn’t said it back, nor do I expect her to.
But last night…
Right as I slid inside her, we locked eyes. She parted her lips, breath catching, and murmured, “Knox, I…”
Then she kissed me like the confession was perched on the edge of her tongue but too dangerous to speak.
Maybe she’s scared to say it.
And I get that. Falling was the one rule she made clear we couldn’t break.
Yet here I am. Already shattered by her.
My sideways glance catches the curve of her mouth, eyes bright as if we didn’t stay up half the night wrapped around each other. God, I’ve never wanted quiet moments to last more than I do with her.
“Your smile looks a little mischievous, Bubble Girl.”
“Well…” She reaches under her seat. “I almost forgot we have something.”
From her bag, she pulls out the deck of Would You Rather: Couples Edition that Margo gave us with a wink and a “just in case the road gets too quiet” before we left.
“We’re doing this now?”
“Yep,” she says, shuffling. “Seems like the perfect time to find out which one of us is the bigger mystery.”
“I’d say that’s obvious.”
“Mm. We’ll see about that.”
Flipping the first card, she reads the question aloud in her best game-show voice:
“Would you rather…your partner be able to read your mind during an argument or during sex?”
“Sex,” I say without hesitation. “During an argument, I need space to sort out what I actually feel before I say something I’ll regret. But during sex? If you could read my mind, then you’d know exactly how to drive me crazy, and that’s not a bad thing.”
I glance at her, a smirk tugging at my mouth. “Then again, you already know how to drive me crazy. Maybe you’ve been reading my mind all along.”
Her cheeks flush, but she holds my gaze. “Same,” she says. “Sex. Though I wouldn’t mind a little telepathy during arguments. Might save us both some trouble.”
We laugh, and for a second, it hits me. We haven’t really argued. Unless you count the playful standoff over whose turn it was to clean Stripe and Shadow’s litter box. Which she won. Obviously.
“Your turn,” she says. “You pull. I’ll read.”
I pull a card from the deck and hand it to her.
“Would you rather…fall in love fast and risk heartbreak or take your time and possibly miss your chance?”
Neither of us answers. The only sound is the steady whump-whump of tires against asphalt and a rattle from the game tray shifting in her lap.
She flips the card over, traces the edge with her thumb, then glances toward the windshield, like the trees outside might offer the safest answer.
“Ask me after summer ends,” she finally says.
I exhale through a half laugh, fingers tightening on the steering wheel. “Fair.” I steal a glance her way. “Fast. I’d rather risk it. Missing a chance feels worse.”
Clearing her throat, she picks the next card.
“Would you rather…be remembered for how you made someone feel or how well you protected your own heart?”
Damn. That one hits.
Neither of us answers, silence stretching louder than a thunderclap. And in it, I realize we might both be thinking the same thing. That we’ve already made each other feel too much to pretend we’re still protected.
“I want to be remembered for how I made someone feel,” I say, finally breaking the silence.
She turns her head, just slightly, as though she wasn’t expecting me to answer out loud. But she nods. Then says, “Same. Even if it hurts sometimes.”
I pull the next card, handing it over to her with a smile.
“Would you rather…” She clears her throat. “Relive the best night of your life or erase the worst?”
Wind presses against the car as we round a bend. The deck slides on her thigh; she steadies it absently, eyes on the passing trees.
“Erase the worst,” she says after a long beat. “I still think about it more than I should.”
My grip tightens on the steering wheel. There’s a weight in her tone I can feel in my chest. Like she’s talking about more than one night. Like all the nights her ex shattered her and left her to sweep up the pieces alone. Or maybe the worst night of her life was the first one without her mom.
I want to ask.
But don’t.
Some things deserve silence more than questions.
I tap the wheel lightly, carefully choosing my answer. “Relive the best,” I say. “Every second of it.”
She doesn’t ask which night I mean. She doesn’t have to. She was there. The first night we made love.
We drive another few beats in silence before she draws the next card.
“Would you rather…say what’s on your mind or hold back to protect your partner’s feelings?”
Her lips curve before she answers. “What’s on my mind. I’ve already done the other one. It doesn’t protect anyone in the long run.” She hesitates, then adds softly, “But, I guess I still hold back when I’m trying to protect myself.”
The familiar ache in my chest tightens as her gaze meets mine. “Same. I mean, the saying what’s on my mind part.”
Head tilted, she asks, “Because…?”
“Because to me, keeping it in doesn’t protect anyone. It only lets the silence do the damage for you.”
Cami’s gaze lingers on mine, and for a moment, it seems like she’s on the verge of saying something epic but chooses not to.
“Okay. Last one.” Shifting beside me, she tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she reads the card I pulled. “Would you rather…take a fall and risk losing it all or stay grounded and never find out what could’ve been?”
Bubble Girl stares straight ahead as if the road is holding its breath with her.
After a beat, I clear my throat.
“Depends on what the fall looks like.” I cast a glance her way. “If the view’s good enough on the way down, maybe the landing’s worth it.”
Her lips part slightly, but she says nothing.
And the tiniest smile tugs at her mouth. Like maybe she agrees.