Chapter Ten #2
Knight finally looked at me, his black eyes swimming with a toxic mix of rage and despair. “Go back to Brynn,” he said, his voice rough. “She needs you more than I do.”
“Brynn’s asleep,” I replied, keeping my tone matter of fact. “Ada’s with her. Now shut up and let me fix you.”
He tried to wave me away with his uninjured hand, but I stepped closer, invading his space with a determination that surprised even me.
I had to deal with this man whose already complicated personality had added a new layer.
My Rhys wouldn’t have felt things this strongly.
Or, at least, he’d have had a different outlet.
Likely a marathon session of Call of Duty.
This man had big feelings he had no idea how to process.
And I knew he blamed himself for the decisions of monsters calling themselves angels of mercy.
I grasped his wrist gently but firmly, pulling his bloodied hand toward me. He resisted for a moment before relenting with a sigh that seemed to deflate him. “This is going to sting,” I warned, then pressed the damp paper towel against his split knuckles.
Knight didn’t react to any pain I caused him, didn’t pull away. Blood immediately soaked through the thin paper, but I maintained steady pressure. We stood in silence, the only sounds our breathing and the distant hum of noises filtering through the walls.
“You’re getting blood on your sweater,” Knight finally murmured, eyes fixed on a spot where crimson droplets had indeed splashed across my sleeve.
“It’ll wash out.” I shrugged, lifting the soaked towel to examine the damage.
The cuts weren’t as bad as I’d feared, but they’d definitely need cleaning.
I applied fresh paper towels, wrapping them around his knuckles and securing them with my hand.
“What were you thinking? Picking a fight with concrete rarely ends well. For the person picking the fight.”
“Wasn’t thinking,” he admitted, his voice barely audible. “Just needed to hit something that couldn’t hit back.”
I nodded, understanding the impulse better than he might have expected.
How many nights had I punched pillows, screamed into them until my throat was raw, when Brynn was first diagnosed?
How many times had I slammed my palm against the steering wheel while parked outside the hospital, raging at a universe that would make an innocent child suffer?
Knight’s breathing hitched, his massive body shuddering as if something was breaking loose inside him.
“What if they’re right to reject me?” he whispered, the words falling between us like stones.
“Everything I touch turns to shit, Lavender. All those years thinking I was protecting you by staying away, and all I did was leave you both vulnerable. Now I have a chance to actually help her, and my past might take that away too.”
My heart ached at the raw pain in his voice. I abandoned his wounded hand to cup his face between my palms, forcing him to meet my eyes. His beard was rough against my skin, his face hot with emotion.
“Listen to me,” I said, my voice low and fierce.
“You are not your past. We decided last night we would fight this together. That fight includes this fight.” I swallowed hard, willing strength into my voice.
“I’ve watched you with her these past weeks.
You’re exactly what she needs, and anyone who can’t see that is either blind or stupid.
Those pricks on that fucking committee haven’t met you or Brynn, so how could they possibly know your motivations? ”
“Not sure it matters. Seems they’ve already judged me.
Besides, I did manipulate you. You’re back in my bed, in my arms. I’m pretty Goddamned sure you never intended for that to happen.
Hell, pretty sure you told me you weren’t sure what you wanted, yet here we are.
” He tried to look away, but I wouldn’t let him.
“Bullshit,” I snapped, surprising us both with the vehemence in my tone.
“You think they know you because they read your rap sheet? I know you. I’ve always known you.
I know the man underneath all this.” I gestured at his tattooed face, his hardened exterior.
“The man who sits for hours playing video games with our daughter even when she pretends she doesn’t want him there.
The man who memorized her entire medication schedule faster than I did.
The man who’s read every medical journal article on kidney transplants he could reasonably find to make sure he understands exactly what she’s facing.
” I shook my head. “Those people don’t know you.
Dr. Patel sees you. Trust in her. And if you think Knuckles can help you out, have him bring every idea he has.
You’re the one who said your club is your family. ”
Knight leaned into my touch, vulnerability raw on his face. “I can’t lose her when I’ve just found her,” he whispered, the confession so quiet I might have missed it if we hadn’t been standing inches apart.
“You won’t,” I promised, pouring every ounce of conviction I possessed into those two words. “This afternoon, you’ll go in there and make them see what I see. What Dr. Patel sees. A father who would move heaven and earth for his child.”
“And if that’s not enough?” The fear in his voice broke my heart all over again.
“Then we’ll fight harder,” I said simply. “We’ll appeal, we’ll find advocates, we’ll go to the media if we have to. They don’t get to decide our daughter’s fate based on paperwork. I won’t let them.”
Knight’s uninjured hand came up to cover mine on his cheek. “When did you get so fierce?” he asked, a hint of wonder in his voice.
“I’ve always been fierce,” I replied. “Had to be. I was raising your kid.”
A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “Yeah, you were.” He exhaled shakily, pressing his forehead against mine. “You did a fantastic job too.”
We stood there in the concrete stairwell, foreheads touching, breathing each other’s air, my hands on his face and his blood soaking through the makeshift bandage between us.
Two broken people who’d somehow found their way back to each other, united by a love for the child who carried pieces of us both.
“Together,” Knight murmured, the word a promise.
“Together,” I agreed, knowing that whatever challenges lay ahead, we’d face them side by side.