Page 58 of The Quiet After The Fall

It’s a white shirt with an array of appetizers styled as different fish with the words FINger Food along the top. Hideously amazing.

Knox tries to hold it in. I know that look. But when I wave it again like a victory flag, he gives up and bursts out laughing. It must be contagious because suddenly I’m laughing and we’re doubled over, me clutching the shirt to my chest and him shaking his head.

He takes it and drops it into his basket. “I’m buying that for you. Happy early birthday.”

The laugh dies in my throat.

I’m quiet as I stand there with my hand still hovering near the rack, the easy warmth from a second ago draining out of me fast enough that I feel it physically, like the mention of my birthday was a vacuum cleaner of joy.

He notices. Of course he does. He notices everything about me, apparently.

“You didn’t think I’d forget.”

“It’s been a hard year to keep track of dates.” It’s not an answer but it’s the only thing I can manage that isn’t as heavy as I feel.

“I haven’t forgotten a single one of your birthdays since I was old enough to read a calendar, Sawyer.”

A hush surrounds us. The only noise is the hum of the cooler in the back and the radio playing faintly from the front of the store.

I swallow hard. “Knox.”

“I know.” He shifts the baskets to his other hand. “I’m not trying to make it weird.”

“You’re failing.”

That gets the smallest huff of a laugh out of him, and my chest loosens again, the tension breaking just enough that I can breathe normally.

“Come on.” He nods toward the register. “Let’s go pay before we end up with an entire fish-themed wardrobe.”

We head to the register, making small talk with the chatty local ringing us up. Knox pays before I can get my card out, and I let it happen. I’m too tired to fight him on it, and it’s the least he can do for being an ass.

Outside, the heat’s less oppressive than earlier, and the sunset above Main Street casts a golden hue over the buildings. Knox hands me my bag and our fingers brush, his warm and calloused, causing sparks to shoot up my arm. Our eyes catch and hold, and for a second, I think he’s going to comment on the touch, but after one breath and then another, he doesn’t, so I swallow it down too.

“Are you hungry?” he asks, breaking the silence.

Am I? There’s so many other feelings coursing through me, hunger is the farthest from the top. I should eat before going back to the motel, but do I want to spend more time with Knox? I’m still so angry at him. At our situation.

He’s engaged. There’s nothing we can do about that, and no matter what we say or do, there’s still feelings between us. I’m tired of fighting them. I’m tired of the guilt and the grief and the restraint. I’m tired of being good, but I don’t want to be bad either. I’m a fucking mess.

“I didn’t realize it was such a loaded question,” Knox says.

I blink and clear my throat. “Everything between us is loaded. You’re Owen’s brother. You’re engaged to Ella. You’re…you.”

He sighs and rubs his jaw. “I told you how it is with Ella. What she is to me. I⁠—”

“I know,” I interrupt. “But she doesn’t. Despite what her and Owen did. Despite it being some weird arrangement that you refuse to tell me about. It’s still wrong, Knox.”

He keeps his lips pressed in a line and that gets to me. I brace for the fight, for him to push back the way he always does, and instead, he just stands there with his bag hanging from his hand, shoulders dropped an inch.

“I know it’s wrong,” he almost whispers. I have to step closer to hear him. “I’ve known it’s wrong since…since forever, and I keep wanting you anyway. I don’t have it in me to stop wanting you.”

My pulse pounds, every instinct screaming at me to comfort him. To say fuck it all and give in.

I’m not there yet. Not after everything.

“I should go.”

“What if we’re just friends?” he says, reaching for my arm. “If that’s what you need. I’ll take whatever version of you I’m allowed to have, Sawyer, because I can’t lose you completely. Not after all this time. Not after what we’ve been through.”