Page 162 of The Rookie

Because as important as Griffin is—becoming? To me. Cassie is, important, too.

forty

. . .

Avery

The airin Tahoe is crisp, the kind that feels like it’s scrubbing your lungs clean with every breath. The cabin—or rather, the massive mountain lodge—is nestled among snow-dusted pines, its wood-and-stone façade glowing warmly in the late afternoon light.

“This place is insane,” I mutter as we pull up, my eyes wide as I take in the sheer size of it.

Cassie grins, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she grabs her bag. “The Knoxes don’t do anything halfway, babe. Welcome to the chaos.”

She’s not kidding. Inside, the lodge is all rustic luxury—vaulted ceilings with exposed beams, a massive stone fireplace, plush furniture in warm tones, and windows that frame the snowy landscape like a postcard.

Cassie’s mom, Diana Knox, is the first to greet us, her arms wide as she pulls Cassie into a hug.

“There’s my baby!” she gushes, kissing Cassie’s cheek. Then she turns to me, her smile just as warm. “Avery! It’s so good to see you again. You look amazing, sweetheart. Come here.”

I step into the hug, her perfume—something soft and floral—filling my senses. “Thanks, Mrs. Knox.”

“Diana,” she corrects, waving a hand. “How many times do I have to tell you?”

“Right. Diana.”

Behind her, Cassie’s dad, Charlie Knox, ambles over with a smile that’s slower but no less genuine. He’s got a retired-coach vibe—broad shoulders, silver hair, and a calm presence that balances Diana’s energy.

“Hey there,” he says, shaking my hand. “You ready for the Knox family circus?”

I laugh, glancing at Cassie. “You forget. This isn’t my first rodeo.”

We’re barely inside when the door opens again, a blast of cold air following the tall, broad-shouldered figure stepping through. Jackson Knox, in the flesh.

He’s older now—somewhere in his mid 30s, if I remember right—but somehow even hotter than I recall. His dark hair is perfectly styled, his jawline sharper than a damn knife, and he’s dressed in a sleek wool coat over a turtleneck, looking like he stepped straight out of a magazine.

“Well, well,” Cassie drawls, throwing her arms open. “If it isn’t the famous Coach Knox himself.”

Jackson grins, pulling her into a quick hug. “Cass.” Then his eyes land on me, and his smile softens. “Avery Sinclair. Long time no see.”

My stomach does a little flip. Probably because he has an uncanny likeness to Griffin. If I’m getting a taste of what Griff will look like ten years out? I’m a lucky woman. “Jackson. It’s good to see you.”

“Likewise.” He looks me over, not in a flirty way but in that big-brotherly, slightly protective way. “World traveler suits you. Griff told me you were so pumped about your Spain trip.”

“Oh, he did?” I manage, feeling my cheeks heat.

Behind him, another tall figure (why is their whole family giant?) appears—Asher Knox—the youngest of the brothers. His energy is electric, his boyish grin making him instantly likable.

“Well, look who it is!” he calls out, his voice booming as he strides in, his arms already outstretched.

Cassie rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling as she hugs him. “Asher. Finally.”

He pulls back, smirking. “Miss me already?”

Behind him, another figure steps inside, bundled in a huge coat that practically swallows her. Her glasses fog up as she enters, her cheeks pink from the cold.

“Not sure if you two have met…this is my girlfriend Sloane."

“Hey, Sloane,” I say, shaking her hand. “How did you two meet, again?”

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