Page 32 of Things We Hide from the Light
Even through my pissed-off-ness, I could still appreciate the show autumn was putting on. The woods were alive with color. Leaves of red, gold, and orange clung to branches and rained down to cover the driveway. I had complicated feelings about fall. What had once represented reuniting with friends and starting new adventures had only come to mean missing out on both.
“Man, I am bitchy tonight,” I grumbled to Carrie Underwood as she dug her keys into the side of her ex’s truck.
I dialed down the volume on the stereo and let the whisper of the creek through the trees fill the car.
Knox and Naomi’s house came into view around the next bend. It sprawled out in timber and glass tucked into the trees like it was part of the forest. I pulled in behind Naomi’s SUV and got out before I could talk myself into sitting and stewing. The sooner I got in, the sooner I could get out and go home and be bitchy alone.
I headed for the stone walkway that meandered its way through low-growing shrubs and late-season flowers to the wide steps of the front porch.
There was a kid’s bike on a patch of lawn and striped cushions on the rocking chairs. Potted ferns hung from the porch rafters. A trio of hand-carved jack-o’-lanterns were clustered just outside the front door.
I was willing to bet money that Knox’s pumpkin was the terrifying ghoulish one vomiting forth its own innards. Naomi’s would be the precisely carved, toothy smile one. And Waylay’s was the impatient, jagged, lopsided one with scary eyebrows.
The entire place screamed “family.” Which was both sweet and entertaining when I thought of the Knox who I’d known forever.
From beyond the screen door came an excited howl immediately followed by a cacophony of barks and yips. Dogs of all shapes and sizes spilled out onto the porch and down the steps, swarming me in a friendly frenzy.
I bent to greet them.
Knox’s grandmother’s dogs were a petite, one-eyed pit bull named Kitty and a rambunctious beagle named Randy. Naomi’s parents, who now resided in the cabin on the property, had brought along their dog, Beeper, a rescued Heinz 57 that resembled a scruffy brick with feet.
Knox’s dog, a chunky basset hound named Waylon, landed his pudgy front paws on my thighs to rise above the fray for his fair share of attention.
“Waylon! Knock it off,” Knox barked from the front porch as he pushed open the screen door. He had a dish towel thrown over his shoulder, a pair of grill tongs in his hand, and something close to a smile on his handsome face.
“I’m settin’ the table like you told me to!” came the aggrieved cry of a twelve-year-old from inside.
“Waylon, not Waylay,” Knox yelled back.
“Well, why didn’t you say so?” Waylay bellowed.
I grinned.
“Family life agrees with you,” I said, wading through the dogs to the front porch.
He shook his head. “I spent an hour googling fuckin’ sixth grade math last night and a week listening to women go back and forth over flower arrangements.” A chorus of laughter rang out from the house. “It’s never quiet. There’s always people everywhere.”
He might have been standing there complaining, but it was plain as day that Knox Morgan was happier than he’d ever been.
“Sounds like you deserve one of these,” I said, holding up the six-pack I’d brought.
“Let’s drink in the backyard before someone finds us and needs me to fix the dryer vent or watch another ‘hilarious TikTok,’” he said. He tucked the tongs into his back pocket, grabbed two of the beers, then popped the tops on the porch railing. He handed one to me. “Last chance to make a run for it,” he offered.
“Oh, I’m not missing the domesticated Knox show for anything,” I told him.
He snorted. “Domesticated?”
“Just messing with you. It suits you.”
He leaned his forearms on the porch railing. “What does?”
I pointed the neck of my bottle toward the front door. “Those two ladies in there needed you. You stepped up and now the three of you are so blindingly happy the rest of us can’t look directly at you.”
“You think they’re happy?” Knox asked.
Another burst of laughter came from inside the house. The dogs raced around the yard, noses to the ground in search of another adventure.
“Positive,” I said.
