Page 2 of Hard Bargain

His mother glanced up, lips pressed tight. She took the pills and swallowed them dry, refusing the water, eyes drifting back to the static-filled TV.

Turning away, he picked up the grocery bag from the table and made his way back to the kitchen, unpacking it all on autopilot. When he was done, he headed for his room, the door clicking shut behind him. He dropped his phone on the mattress, kicked off his shoes, and sat on the edge of the bed as a message lit up the screen.

Tara: You up?

He thumbed out a quick reply.

Me: Yeah.

Tara: Want to come over? Got the house to myself.

Knox stared at the screen, pulse kicking up—not because of her, not really, but because of what she offered. Escape. He always needed something: adrenaline, sex, or just a good argument, any kind of thrill that might cut through the heaviness and snap him out of the suffocating gray his life had settled into.

Tara was easy: no strings, no questions, just heat and distraction.

Me: On my way.

* * *

Tara opened the door before he could knock, all bare legs and dark curls, one eyebrow lifted like she’d been waiting hours, not ten minutes. “About time,” she said, half-grinning. “Was starting to think you found someone better.”

He snorted. “Not a chance.”

She stepped aside, letting him in. The house had that easy, lived-in feel, music humming in the background, family snapshots everywhere, and fruit left out on the kitchen counter.

Her house felt normal. It always threw him off, but Tara never did. With her, everything made sense. She was exactly the kind of trouble he understood.

She was gorgeous: smooth, deep brown skin that caught the light, dark eyes that never missed a thing, and a mouth always half-cocked like she was about to make fun of you. Her curls spilled wild around her face, and even in an old T-shirt and shorts, she looked sexy as hell.

They’d met in school, back when neither of them had any use for rules. She was always the first to call bullshit and the first to dare him into trouble. Somewhere along the line, things had gotten physical—no promises, no mess, just relief when they needed it.

“You hungry?” she asked, swinging open the fridge.

Knox leaned against the counter, eyes dragging over her legs, her hips, the way her shirt hitched up a little. “Not for food.”

The fridge door swung shut with a soft thud, her lips curving. “Then come here and prove it.”

Two steps and his hands were on her waist, pulling her in for a kiss. Her laugh tangled up with his mouth as she kissed him back, eager and willing, exactly what he came here for.

Her hands slid up his chest, fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt as she pressed closer. The kiss deepened, turning into something familiar, her body soft against his. They stumbled toward the couch, laughing between kisses, a jumble of limbs and want.

For a while, he let himself get lost in her, chasing that rush that made it a little easier to forget everything else.

After, they lay tangled on the couch, skin still slick with sweat, catching their breath. Tara stretched out beside him, scrolling through her phone while Knox leaned back and stared at the ceiling, biting at his lower lip in that restless way he never seemed able to stop.

The afterglow was already slipping away; that brief, electric high gone too fast. Sex gave him a quick hit of adrenaline that made him feel almost awake for a while. But it always left him feeling worse, like waking up enough to realize how numb he’d been.

What he needed was something that might actually reach him.

This wasn’t it.

Not even close.

“Okay,” Tara said, looking up from her phone. “You gonna tell me how you’re actually doing, or you just gonna keep making that face?”

He smirked, not looking at her. “What face?”

She rolled her eyes. “You know. The one that says, ‘my life’s a trash fire but I’ll die before I admit it.’”