Page 25 of Pucking Knox
"Knox!" Harvey calls from the locker room. "Post-game breakdown!"
The team meeting passes in a blur. All I can think about is Kennedy with my father. How easily she stepped in. How naturally she handled him. How she saw exactly what I needed and just... did it without question.
She's waiting at my house when I finally get home.
Ace walks in. "Hey, sis. You good?"
She nods. "Yeah. Good game."
He kisses her forehead and then leaves us.
"He's safe," she says before I can ask. "Got him home. Left him with AA pamphlets and the number of a good counselor."
"You didn't have to do that." And I want to say she shouldn’t have. She shouldn’t have hope that he’s going to change. He’s far too gone.
"I know." She steps closer, reading the tension in my shoulders. "But I wanted to."
"Kenny..."
"Don't." She presses her hands to my chest, and just like that, the rage I've been carrying all night starts to fade. "Don't shut down. Don't push me away. Just... let me help."
I should step back. Should remember this is fake. Should protect myself from how much I'm starting to need her.
Instead, I kiss her.
Not like our usual kisses – all heat and possession and performance. This is slower, deeper, heavy with things I can't say. Her hands slide up to my neck, holding me like I'm something precious instead of broken.
When we break apart, her eyes are soft with understanding.
"It’s going to be okay," she whispers.
And just like that, she's demolished every wall I've built.
Because she sees me. Really sees me. Not the enforcer, not the bad boy, not the charity case dating a senator's daughter. Just... me.
This time I smash my lips against hers, dropping my duffle bag to the ground, and carry her to my room. She makes that sweet sound I fucking love. I shut the door behind me and release her.
I pull her to my bed and turn on the TV.
"A movie?" I ask.
She nods politely, curling against my side while I scroll through stupid movies that we’re going to pretend to watch. When she steals the remote, I study her face, memorizing every detail.
This is dangerous.
The draft is in eight weeks. I can't afford distractions. Can't risk everything I've worked for. Can't let myself need someone this much.
"Do you want to talk about it?" she asks.
I pull her closer. "Maybe another time. That one’s a good movie."
When she falls asleep on my shoulder, I kiss the top of her head and wonder what the fuck I’ve gotten myself into.
I know it's too late.
Kennedy Walters has become as necessary as breathing.
And I need to take everything she’s willing to give me.
