Page 170 of What Comes Around

“That day in Walmart,” he said. “The day Apple was taken.”

My heart gave a small, startled kick.

“I was there.”

I straightened. “What do you mean you were there?”

He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs, hands clasping loosely as he stared at the floor. “I was in town for a football training camp. Stopped there to grab a few things. Snacks. Tape.” He paused, exhaling through his nose. “Then everything went to hell. Police. Sirens. The Amber Alert.”

His fingers tightened slightly.

“I remember thinking I should have noticed something suspicious.” His voice dropped. “But I didn’t. I was right there and I saw nothing until it was already too late.”

He shook his head once, slow. “I never forgot that.”

I watched him for a second, something pulling at a memory I hadn’t touched in years.

“I was there too,” I said quietly.

His head lifted immediately, his gaze locking onto mine. “What?”

“I was eight,” I said, the memory coming back piece by piece. “Marissa took us shopping. Apple threw a tantrum. Then she disappeared.”

I shifted slightly on the couch, my fingers curling together. “Marissa sent me to another aisle for crayons.”

Knox went very still.

“There was a guy there,” I continued, softer now. “Young. Tall. He helped me reach them. Told me I shouldn’t be alone.”

Silence settled between us, heavy and charged.

Knox stared at me, something dawning in his expression.

“You pointed at the shelf,” he said slowly. “You couldn’t reach the box.”

My breath caught.

“You asked which ones were Crayolas.”

Everything snapped into place.

“That was you,” I whispered.

He stared at me, stunned. “I did not remember your face. I only remembered the guilt. I remembered thinking I should have done more.”

I shook my head and reached for his hand, threading my fingers through his. “You did do something.”

He looked at me.

“You saw me,” I said softly. “You stayed. You made sure I wasn’t alone.”

His grip tightened around mine.

“I didn’t even know what was happening,” he said.

“You didn’t have to,” I replied. “You kept me safe in the moment you were there. You were kind to me when no one else was.”

His shoulders loosened, the weight he had carried for decades finally shifting.