Page 147 of What Comes Around

“I’m also giving them the security footage,” he added, his thumb brushing once over my knuckles where his hand still held mine. “They’ll see exactly what happened.”

Apple hadn’t even looked for cameras. In all her hysteria, she hadn’t thought that far.

I nodded. “Good.”

“There’s something else.”

I lifted my eyes to his.

“I got the DNA results an hour ago.”

My breath caught. “And?”

“It’s not mine.”

For a moment I just sat there, feeling the words settle, realizing how tightly I had been holding onto that fear without even admitting it to myself. Then it slipped loose all at once.

I exhaled slowly, relief spreading through me, loosening something deep in my chest.

“Good,” I said softly. “I’m glad you know.”

He leaned in, his hand coming up to steady lightly at the side of my face as he pressed a soft kiss to my forehead.

Outside, the distant noise of voices and movement continued, but it felt far away. Irrelevant.

Later that evening Knox and I were stretched out on the bed, his arm resting loosely around my waist, fingers tracing idle patterns against my skin. My head lay on his chest, listening to the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

My fingers drifted over his shirt, then stilled. “So… are you just moving in without telling me?”

His hand stilled briefly. “I thought it was obvious.”

I tipped my chin up, meeting his gaze.“What about your penthouse?”

His arm tightened slightly around me. “It’s still there.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

A faint breath left him. “Maria’s taking care of it. All that matters to me is that I’m where you are.”

Something quiet settled between us after that, the kind of silence that didn’t need filling.

Then Knox spoke again.

“You know,” he said, “there’s something I never told you. About that first time. In my office.”

I lifted my head slightly, caught off guard. “What about it?”

He went quiet after that, his gaze drifting up to the ceiling. I felt the shift in him before he spoke, the way his chest rose a little deeper under my cheek, the tension settling into his body.

“I was in a bad place,” he said finally. “Those two days before… I wasn’t myself.”

I traced a small line along his shirt, remembering. “I noticed. You were short with me. I thought I’d done something wrong.”

His arm tightened slightly around me. “You didn’t. It wasn’t you.”

I lifted my head just enough to look at him. He still wasn’t looking at me, his jaw set, like he was forcing himself through something he didn’t want to revisit.

I waited.