Page 131 of Knight

I just hope my spectacular inability to handle basic human emotion hasn't completely ruined any chance of her choosing me.

CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO

Evangeline

Knight stands in my doorway,with at least two days’ worth of stubble shadowing his jaw. His hair is standing up in uneven tufts, like he’s been running his hands through it constantly. His shirt is wrinkled, half-tucked into jeans that look like they’ve seen better days.

He looks like he’s bracing himself for rejection, tension radiating through him. For a second, I think he might bolt, his gaze dropping to the floor before lifting to meet mine again. Then he speaks.

"My apartment felt wrong."

"So you thought you’d come and invade mine instead?" I lean against the doorframe, heart pounding, arms crossed.

"Your deadbolt is pathetic. Your windows are vulnerable. Your entire building’s security is a joke."

"Most people start with hello."

"I’m not most people." His voice is rough, unsteady. "Are you going to let me in, or do I have to stand here while the neighbors speculate about why I’m at your door at this hour?"

It’s such a Knight thing to say—that edge of arrogance masking uncertainty—that I almost laugh.Almost.

"I haven’t decided yet. If this is another attempt at?—"

"Getting shot was easier than this." He surges forward and pushes past me into the apartment, without waiting for an invitation. "At least bullets follow predictable trajectories."

"Is that supposed to be funny?"

I close the door, then turn. He’s pacing the length of my living room, looking like a caged animal searching for escape. One sweep. Two. I don’t move from my spot by the door.

"You know why I’m here." He stops abruptly, his back to me.

"I really don’t." My voice is steady, but my heart is racing. "Why don’t you enlighten me?"

He turns. "Because I’m tired of running from this. I don’t want to carry on pretending I didn’t make a mistake. I know that avoiding being here is easier than facing you and risking …” He shakes his head and turns away again.

His words shock me. Knight doesn’t do vulnerability. Doesn’t admit fear.

"What do you think you’re risking by being here?"

"Everything." He spins again. "My control. My defenses. Every wall I’ve built to keep people out."

"That’s a lot of words to avoid saying what you really mean."

A muscle pops in his jaw. "You make it sound simple."

"It's easier than spending weeks stalking me through security cameras instead of showing up yourself."

He stares at me, drags a hand through his hair, then sighs. "I deserved that. I deserve every ounce of anger you have. But I’m here because watching isn’t enough anymore."

I push off the doorframe, closing some of the distance between us. "You said that already. What I want to know is why."

"Because I can’t keep doing this." His fingers curl into fists at his sides, and he turns toward the door.

For a second I think he’s going to leave. But instead, he pulls something from his pocket and tosses it onto the coffee table. It hits the glass with a thud.

"Non-technical entry to my elevator," he says, his voice rough. "No codes needed. Direct access with no override to stop it working."

I stare at the small unassuming-looking key, and understanding floods through me. For someone like Knight, this isn’t just a key. It’s the dismantling of his need for control. A surrender of the distance he’s always kept.

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