Page 89 of The Quiet After The Fall

“Knox,” he says, his voice flat.

“Mr. Thorne,” Knox says, inclining his head.

My father’s eyes move between the two of us, trying to get a read on the situation. Can he tell that there’s something going on with Knox and me? Will he be judgmental about it, like everyone else?

He’s had nothing but time in here to think and read people. I’m sure he notices something different between us.

“You know.” He speaks quietly, looking directly at Knox, before cutting his gaze toward me. “You know something.”

Knox just tips his chin.

“Dad—”

He holds out his hand. “Let’s sit and talk. Tell me everything.”

We take our seats across from him in the cold vinyl chairs. Knox sits close enough that our knees touch and I’m grateful for the small connection.

“We found something in my father’s files,” Knox says. He sounds stable and sure, a hell of a lot more than I would sound right now. His hand finds my knee and he continues. “An old report on the Velocity site, with soil stability warnings and other geological data. There was a note on it, handwritten, saying someone named Rick recommended postponing the build.”

Dad rubs a hand down his face.

“Signed by you,” Knox finishes.

We’re all quiet as the words sink in. I swear my father’s face pales. He looks down at his hands, and then finally meets my gaze.

“I wrote that note years ago. Right when ground broke on the Wonder World expansion. It was a dream job, paid our salaries for a year. But there were complications with the land,” he continues, voice low. “Rick was our structural engineer. Best in the business, worked with us for over a decade. He came to me with soil samples that worried him. Some instability under the section where they wanted to put the coaster. I passed it along to your father.” His eyes find Knox’s. “I recommended we postpone. Get a second opinion. Redo the footing plans before anything went up.”

“And?” I press, even though I know I’m not going to like the answer.

“And Richard told me it was handled, that he’d brought in a different team, and they’d addressed it. That the delay wasn’t necessary anymore. I believed him.” A humorless laugh escapes him. “Over ten years running that company together, Sawyer. I trusted the man like a brother.”

“But it wasn’t handled,” Knox says, keeping his anger tamped even when I know he wants to explode.

Dad’s hands curl into fists on the table. “He never fixed it. He just made the paperwork disappear and let me believe all was well.”

Holy shit. This is all real. Not just some wild theory Knox came up with. And that means…

“I didn’t think anything of it until the accident,” Dad says, barely able to get the words out.

Knox’s hand tightens on my knee, and I press my own hand over his, gripping like it’s the only solid thing left in the room.

“I remembered that report the second I heard what happened,” Dad says, voice barely a whisper. “I remembered Rick’s face when he told me what needed to be done, the seriousness of it all. And I heard the news and…God help me, Sawyer, I thought to myself, maybe this is on me too.”

“Dad. It’s not on you.”

“That old report was buried in my head along with a hundred other project files I hadn’t thought about in years. I had no reason to think about the coaster. Rick’s warning, my note…As far as I knew, it had all been handled the way Richard told me it was.” He looks up, eyes damp again. “It wasn’t until the accident, losing Owen…almost losing you two, that it came back to me. That I even remembered the report existed.”

“So you didn’t know? Not when you went to prison? Not until the accident?”

“No.” He reaches for my free hand. “I swear to God, Sawyer, I didn’t know. And when I saw the news with everyone else, what was I supposed to do? Think about it…who would believe me, the felon who started a town-wide scandal, when I’m up against Ashford’s golden family?”

I glance at Knox and his expression’s unreadable. “You could have told me.”

He looks back at his hands. “I wanted to. It killed me not to. But honey, what good would it do? You were grieving and injured. You think I wanted to call you up and blurt out, ‘Hey! So this was all Richard Aldrich’s doing.’”

“No,” Knox finally chimes in. “You’d have put Sawyer and yourself in danger.”

“Exactly.” Dad's grip on my hand tightens and he lowers his voice. “I don’t know what you’re doing here, Knox, and I don’t trust you. I’ve seen what your family does to people who threaten their name. Hell, I’m living it. I wasn’t about to hand Sawyer a piece of information then that could get her killed, and I’m regretting telling you now.”