Juniper Hill (The Edens #2)(26)

Thankfully, he hadn’t fired me until after Drake was born. Or maybe I’d quit. Considering I’d resigned and he’d fired me during the same phone conversation while I’d been in a hospital bed, I wasn’t exactly sure how Human Resources had processed that one. All I cared about was that my insurance had still been active, so it had covered my medical bills.

Dad must have thought that after Drake was born, I’d change my mind. That I’d bend to his iron will. Maybe had he shown up at the hospital, I would have.

“I chose Quincy. I applied at the inn. I bought the Volvo, and after Eloise offered me a job, I started searching for rentals here. When I couldn’t find one after a week of looking . . . well, here I am.”

“Here you are.” There was something in his voice. A fondness where irritation had once been.

Knox and I sat on the couch, eyes locked through the dark.

Now he had my story, or most of it. Some pieces were mine and mine alone. One day, they might be Drake’s but that was a worry for the future.

There were pieces to my tale I loathed. Parts of the story where I’d failed. But mostly, I was beginning to feel . . . proud.

Coming to Quincy had been the right decision.

“You’d better get some sleep.” Knox stood from the couch in one fluid movement, taking Drake to his crib. Knox laid him down, brushing the hair away from his forehead, then stood and walked to the door where I waited to see him out.

“Thank you.” Like I always apologized when he knocked, I thanked him before he left.

Knox bent to pull on his shoes, then he stood tall and nodded, reaching for the door’s handle. But he paused before stepping outside and into the night. He turned to me, a tower at over six feet tall. In my bare feet, I was only five four.

“You’re not alone. Not anymore.”

I opened my mouth but no words came out. He was hugging me again, holding me so tight with those invisible arms that I couldn’t speak.

Knox lifted his hand to my cheek and tucked an errant lock of hair behind my ear. Just one brush of his fingertips and every nerve ending in my body sparked. My breath hitched.

“Good night, Memphis.” Then he was gone, closing the door behind him as he retreated to his house.

A smile ghosted my lips. “Good night, Knox.”





CHAPTER EIGHT





KNOX





A bird chirped outside and my gaze snapped to the windows for the hundredth time in an hour. The driveway was empty, just like it had been three minutes ago.

“Gah.” I dragged a hand through my hair and swiped the last T-shirt from the pile of clean clothes on my bed, taking it to the closet for a hanger. Then I carted the empty basket to the laundry room and headed for the kitchen.

The dishes were done. The fridge stocked. The entire house clean.

For the first time in months, I’d taken an entire day off. Not a huge feat. The actual accomplishment had been not going into Knuckles on my day off. The restaurant had a tether on my mind and most vacation days, I’d stop to check in. Mothering, according to Skip.

But today, I hadn’t left my home. I hadn’t even called to see how things were going. Mondays were a quiet day so I doubted there’d be a mad rush, especially at the end of October. Still, my fingers itched to dial the phone simply for the distraction. Simply to take my mind off the clock.

It was six. Shouldn’t Memphis be home by now? I wasn’t actually sure what time she came home—I was always at the restaurant—but her shift ended at five. Where was she?

Five days had passed since she’d told me about her family. Five days and five nights without Memphis. The restaurant had been busy over the weekend with a rush of hunters staying at the hotel. Our paths hadn’t crossed. And each night when I’d come home after dark, the lights had been off in the loft. Drake hadn’t woken me up.

With or without his crying, I’d be going over tonight.

I just . . . damn it, I missed her. I missed the sweet scent of her perfume. I missed her soft whisper. I missed the way she’d duck her chin to hide a blush.

I’d find an excuse to visit, even if it was just to stay hello. To let her know that the story she’d shared about her parents hadn’t scared me away. No wonder she’d escaped to Montana.

What she’d gone through, alone, was unthinkable.

My family was nothing but supportive—borderline overbearing, but only because they cared. Not in a million years would Mom and Dad treat their daughters the way Memphis had been treated. Not in a million years would they not have held their grandchild.

Fuck, but she was strong. I respected the hell out of her for walking away. From the money. From the legacy. From the control. I admired her for putting her son’s life first.

Risky as it was, I had to see her. And hopefully I’d manage to keep from kissing her.

Because damn, did I want to kiss her. Like I’d almost kissed her the other night.

Six eleven. Why didn’t I know her schedule? What if she needed help? Who would she call? Did she even have my number?

The tap of my fingers on the granite counters filled the quiet house. I’d thought I’d miss this. The quiet. The solitude. But I’d had this anxious knot in my gut all day, the place too still. Too empty. Where was she?

Housework hadn’t helped settle the nerves. Neither had cleaning out the garage. All three stalls were now clean, giving both Memphis and me plenty of space to park once the snow arrived. I hadn’t planned on cooking today. I had plenty of leftovers to pick at.