Page 66 of Shades of You

“That was me,” I added.

As Knox withdrew his hand from his pocket, a surge of adrenaline coursed through my veins. I tensed, ready topush Brenna to the ground and spring into action. But as Knox opened his hand, I realized it was just a thin slip of paper. I let my muscles relax again, exhaling a silent breath. Knox turned to place the folded slip on the nearby bookshelf. The light caught it to reveal digits scribbled in hasty lines.

“If you change your mind, there’s my number.” His eyes searched Brenna’s face for something—forgiveness, a flicker of doubt, a sign. I couldn’t see her reaction, but I felt her tense shoulders under my hands and could picture her eyes holding steady.

“If your ass isn’t out that door in five seconds, you’re going to regret it,” I said through gritted teeth.

Knox turned on his heel, the store silent as he stepped out into the bright morning light.

The muscles in my jaw flexed involuntarily. It was over, but the echo of his words hung in the air between Brenna and me, stirring the whirlpool of emotions inside me even further.

Maybe it was the way Brenna’s head followed him, or how the simple act of him leaving his number felt like a challenge to my own place in her life. Knox’s walking away didn’t just close a chapter of her life. It opened a floodgate of questions for both of us. Knox was a man trying to start over, to be worthy of her. How was I any different? He was right about one thing—my list of sins was a mile long. So was I just Knox in a different package?

But first I had to know how she was after seeing him pop up like a ghost. “Hey. Are you okay?”

Chapter Thirty-One

Brenna

Hunter’s questionechoed in my head as I gaped at the empty doorway Knox had just exited through. A maelstrom of emotions churned within me. I felt the echo of his words—his earnest plea to start anew—but they crumbled against the tide of realization that swept through me. Knox’s return didn’t rekindle old flames. Instead, it had cast a stark light on the depth of my feelings for the man behind me.

Hunter’s hands rested on my shoulders. His touch was solid and reassuring, yet I needed to find my feet alone. I stepped away and turned to face him, inhaling deeply as I tried to quell the storm inside.

“I’m all right,” I lied. And even to my ears, it sounded unconvincing.

Hunter stood before me, a figure sculpted in black tension. Massive and muscular, his presence filled the room. Yet it wasn’t just his physicality that commanded attention—it was the taut line of his jaw, his dark hair falling just so and framing a face that held its secrets close. His eyes,usually so warm and inviting to me, were guarded and wary as they flicked back to the shred of paper that lay on the bookshelf. His mouth tightened even more, catching my attention. The sight of Knox’s scribbled number seemed to gnaw at him.

Hunter’s fingers curled into fists, then released as if he were grappling with an invisible adversary, one that threatened the fragile peace we’d built together. The air between us crackled, and each glance toward the scrawled digits on the paper amplified the volume of the silence.

“Thank you for being here,” I said with only a slight tremor in my voice. “When Knox showed up, I wasn’t sure… You were so quiet.”

“If I’m around, you’re never alone, Brenna. I was assessing the situation.” Something unreadable laced Hunter’s deep baritone. His dark gaze darted again to the torn piece of paper, and the grind of his teeth made his jaw bulge. “He wasn’t acting threatening, so I waited. But when I saw you walk over to stand near the panic button, I moved. I can’t believe the son of a bitch just waltzed in here like nothing had happened. How did you feel, seeing him again?”

I met his gaze head-on, determined to convey the truth swirling inside me. “It only confirmed what I already knew. I’ve moved on.”

But as the words left my lips, Hunter’s reaction wasn’t what I had anticipated. Instead of relief or reassurance, his demeanor shifted subtly. He straightened, growing even taller and more imposing. His eyes held a glint of something male and primal—a mixture of protectiveness and possessiveness that made my gut clench.

Whether it was clenching with warning or desire, I wasn’t sure.

Turning, he fixated on the hand-scrawled note. As if Knox’s mere presence had rekindled insecurities within Hunter—doubts that now showed clearly beneath the heat of his gaze.

“Wait a minute.” Boldness surged within me, driven by the need to understand this enigmatic soul who had unexpectedly become the center of my world. “Are youjealous?”

The question hung between us, its four syllables heavier than the air pressing against our skin. Hunter’s hooded eyes met mine. For a moment, we were suspended in time—the sound of passing cars, the distant laughter of people strolling by on the street all fading into insignificance.

“Maybe,” he admitted, though the word came out grudgingly. And in the slight drop of his guard, I glimpsed the vulnerability he fought so hard to conceal—the raw, unvarnished truth of Hunter Markham laid bare.

His admission hit me, and it took everything in me not to reach out and smooth the lines of concern etched into his brow. Yet I held back. Whatever was building between us needed the freedom to crash upon the shore unrestrained. I turned away from him, my gaze falling on the torn piece of paper perched on the edge of the bookshelf.

With a sudden burst of motion, I crossed the floor, snatched the paper, and tore it into pieces. The sound of it ripping between my fingers was cathartic. Pieces of paper fluttered to the floor like broken wings, each fragment a symbol of my determination to move past the threats to what Hunter and I shared now. “Knox doesn’t matter. And neither does his number.”

Hunter studied me, his body still as a statue, but his eyes… they were alive with an intensity that scorched the air around us. “Knox is a piece of shit,” he said slowly, the words laced with tight bitterness, “but he might be right about one thing. Am I any better than him?”

The self-doubt gnawing at him was written in the hard set of his shoulders and the way one hand tapped against his thigh. He was the embodiment of strength. Yet in his eyes, all I saw was a man who believed he was unworthy.

“Stop that,” I said firmly. “You’re nothing like him.”

He let out a tight, humorless laugh. “No, I’m not. Knox is a small-time loser. He pales compared to the mistakes I’ve made… the things I’ve done. You shouldn’t be with me. I tried to tell you that.”

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