Page 28 of Break

If I could get away with some weed gummies, I’d take them. They’d help me sleep. But apparently, having someone who will protect me from the monster who’s sunk his claws into me whenever possible must be better than melatonin because I pass out.

A nightmare wakes me. One where someone, a literal monster, claws into my bed to mount me and—

I gasp as I sit up and rub my chest. “I’m safe. I’m alone. I’m…”

I look at the foot of my bed, the window there, and see a shape. I yelp and fumble for my light. I slap it and see Knox there. His jaw is tight, his dark brown hair a mess on his face. His hands are in his lap as he stares out my window.

He looks confused, but his jaw is set at the same time. Of course, because Knox isn’t Knox unless he’s pissed.

There’s blood on his hand and splattered over his arm. Some is smeared on his face.

I rub my eyes as my heart continues to pound, every muscle in my body on edge. “Knox, isthat—”

“Your father,” he says, then looks at his hand, finally moving. “He’s taken care of.”

I move back in my bed until my back hits the headboard. I slide my hand under my pillow until my fingers curl around my phone. “What are you talking about?”

“He’s going to jail,” he says calmly.

I swallow as the thumping in my chest transfers to my skull, nearly drowning out his words. “Is he alive?”

Knox laughs once, a humorless, terrifying laugh. “If you want to thank someone for that, Dimitri deserves the credit.”

I continue watching him. I don’t know what else to do. I don’t know what to feel. My father being gone, no longer being a threat. I should feel free, but now I feel like I owe the guys something and that’s not a position I want to be in.

Plus, hurting my dad andfinallydoing something doesn’t make up for the shit they ignored for years. It doesn’t make up for what they did too. Besides, they probably only attacked him out of anger that someone else was touchingtheirtoy.

He clears his throat. “Your dad saved me, Hope. My grandfather used me as an ashtray. He used me to take care of all of his anger. Any issue he had was my fault. He beat me, burned me, tossed dinner on me more than once, no matter what it was. He did…” Knox shakes his head. “And I just took it. I thought if I said something, it would make me weak. He was an old man and I just…”

I stare at him as tears cloud my sight. Because my dad did the same. Of course, he didn’t burn me or cut me. He wantedme soft, but bruises… I wore those regularly, not to mention everything else.

“Your dad helped me. He beat the shit out of my grandfather and my grandfather never touched me again. He didn’t even want to be in the same room as me. I couldn’t see him as anything other than a hero,” Knox finishes.

I wipe away a stray tear. “He raped me, over and over again. He bruised me. He left marks!” I say sharply, needing him to see my dad asIdo.

Knox swallows.

“You knew it! You saw it. And even worse, you knew what it was like. You knew how it felt to be powerless. You knew what it was like when home wasn’t safe, and you did nothing to help me. Instead, you did just what he did. You, Jaxon, and Dimitri,” I say, my voice cracking. More tears fall, and I look away. “You all did the same, and beating my dad up doesn’t change it.”

He shakes his head. “No, you liked it.”

I scoff and wipe my eyes. “Yeah? I did?” I demand as disgust seeps into my voice. “You’re going to tell me how it felt for me? You’re going to tell me you read my mind and that’s why you went for it?”

He doesn’t answer.

I shake my head. “And now you broke into my apartment to be in my room again, in the dark, hiding and… How are you different?”

Knox meets my eyes, and for the first time I see how unsure he is. “You… you… I was sure that you liked it, Hope.”

“Whatever you have to tell yourself to sleep at night,” I huff. “Get out, and don’t break into my room again. That’s definitely against the law, and all it takes is one call to the police to remind you that being in the NFL won’t save you.”

I keep my eyes on him. I don’t trust him not to come closer. I don’t trust him to be any different. They had to have known all along. Some part of them knew exactly what was going on. They just didn’t want to see it.

How can I trust them after that? I looked them in the eyes and silently begged them for help over and over again, and they never listened. They never cared enough to give a damn until tonight, and I don’t trust their intentions.

I just can’t. Trusting them is letting all of my walls fall, and I refuse to be as vulnerable as I used to be.

He grunts, gets up, and heads towards my bedroom door. Just before he rounds the corner, he pauses and whispers, “I’m sorry.”

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