Page 28 of Unmasked Rivalry
He puts his hands behind his head and closes his eyes. “Go to sleep.”
I bite my lip.
The storm rages against the window, and for a while, I just watch his shoulders rise and fall, studying how he doesn’t tense when I shift the mattress, how he sleeps like he’s not scared of anything in the world.
I lay down, stiffer than a corpse, back to him and eyes trained on the walls. I am not thinking about what would happen if I let myself touch him, just for a second, just to see what it would feel like to run a finger along that scar. Nope. Definitely not thinking about that.
The last thing I remember is the feel of the sheets, warm and soft against my skin, and the slow, even sound of Knox breathing.
I drift under, for once, without a single dream.
IT’S BLISSFULLY SILENTwhen I wake.
Morning has not yet come, and the hot, hard body beside me is a comfort I am scared to admit I like. Sitting up, I rub my eyes and glance at my phone. It’s three a.m. I turn it in the direction of Knox, to see him sleeping so soundly, his back to me, his big shoulders rising and falling with every breath.
My chest clenches.
I’m afraid of the things swirling around in my body when I look at this man.
I need to snap out of it.
Climbing out of bed, I move towards the bathroom where I use it quickly and then stare at myself in the mirror. Hot mess indeed. My hair is a mess, falling around my shoulders and inneed of a little more love than I have been giving it. My eyes are tired, and I know I should go back to sleep.
Moving back out, I pause at the photo of Knox and Harper on the dresser. Picking it up, a mix of things washes through me. Jealousy, grief, sadness, and a mix of things I don’t understand. Harper was so easy to love, and I can see he loved her so much.
Will anyone ever love me that much?
“Her birthday.”
Knox’s groggy voice has me spinning around. He’s sitting, staring at me with that gorgeous half-sleepy expression that makes me want to pounce on him and kiss him with everything I am. I shake that thought away before I so much as let it sink in.
“I remember,” I say, looking back down at the photo. “She texted me that night, she was so drunk from doing jelly shots and was making you so crazy you locked her in the room and she tried to escape.”
I can’t help but smile.
“Fuckin’ tried to climb out the window and fell flat on her face, busted her nose.”
I laugh softly. “She was crazy like that, but it’s what I loved most about her.”
“She talked about you a lot.”
I put the photo down and turn toward him. “She did?”
“Yeah,” he says, voice low and real. “Every day. You were her person.”
My chest clenches. I pick at the hem of my shirt. “She was the only one who ever got me. Didn’t matter what I did. Like she saw all the shit and just... let it be.”
I sink to the edge of the bed, the worn photo of them staring up from the dresser. “Did you know she was working with Ralston?”
Silence. He tenses, makes a fist, releases it. “No fucking clue.”
I glance over, and his jaw’s tight, his eyes locked on the wall like he could burn a hole straight through it. “I knew she was doin’ something. She was actin’ weird, doin’ strange things, but I never thought it was that.”
I pick at the corner of the blanket. “I still don’t get it. I keep going through all the stuff, I keep thinking there’s a reason somewhere. Like she wrote it in invisible ink and if I just stare hard enough, I’ll see the answer.” I laugh, but it dries in my throat. “All I find is more questions.”
“She lied,” he says, and I can feel the hurt and anger in his voice. “She fuckin’ lied about everything.”
I turn, meeting his eyes. “That must hurt.”
