Page 57 of Ruthless Edge

"I'll take her," Knox volunteers.

He's appeared from approximately nowhere, which is a habit of his I find increasingly inconvenient.

"I'm going that direction anyway," he says. Which is not true. The hockey house is east of here and my apartment is northwest, and Knox absolutely knows this.

"Your house is the opposite direction," I say.

"I'll take the long way."

"Knox—"

"Emma." He looks at me like the matters already decided. "Just let me walk you."

Paige puts a hand on my arm and does nothing with it, which is her way of saying she agrees with him.

The air outside is colder than I expected, and the streets around Paige's neighborhood are quiet now, just porch lights and the occasional car going past. Knox falls into step beside me and neither of us says anything for almost a block.

"How are your sisters?" he asks.

I look at him. "What?"

"Your twin sisters. Harper and… I'm sorry, I can't remember the other one."

"Hallie," I say. I cannot explain why I'm surprised. I've told Knox about Harper and Hallie exactly once, in a meeting, in passing. "They're good. High school got easier."

"Yeah?"

"Sophomore year was bad. Junior year they kind of found their footing. They're actually coming here next year."

Knox's head turns. "To Ridgehaven?"

"They both got in. I don't know if I'm excited or terrified."

"Both," he says. "Both would be correct, I’m sure."

"They're going to find every single person I know within a week. They're very social."

"Not like you," he says, and there's something fond in it, like he finds the contrast interesting rather than lacking.

"Definitely not like me."

"I can't wait to meet them."

I look at him again. He says it like it's a natural thing to say, like meeting my sisters is something that falls within the reasonable scope of his future. I don't know what to do with that.

We've crossed onto the main road that runs along the campus boundary, narrow sidewalk between the buildings and the street. A car passes and Knox, without saying anything, shifts to my right side. Puts himself between me and the traffic.

He doesn't mention it.

I notice it.

It's such a small, automatic thing. He didn't make a production of it, didn't say anything, just moved. The deliberateness of not mentioning it is almost worse than if he'd been obvious about it. I can push back against the obvious. I don't know what to do with someone who does something considerate and then walks beside me like they didn't.

Two more blocks. The conversation stays easy, lighter than it's been all semester, and I stop waiting for the part where it gets complicated. He asks about the gala logistics and engages with the answers. He tells me about the time a freshman forgot his skate guards were still on, stepped onto the ice, and took out two teammates on the way down. I laugh more than I intend to.

Then I realize I'm cold.

I start rubbing my arms without thinking about it, and Knox looks over and says, "Here," and before I can respond he's already pulling his hoodie over his head.