To the Stars (Thatch #2)(86)

“Knox,” I whispered, and shook my head. “What are you—you said you weren’t going to do anything!”

“I don’t plan to,” he said carefully, and finally looked back at me. “But if it comes down to it, I will do whatever I have to in order to keep you safe, and away from him. No matter what that means.”

“You just promised me sixty years,” I said when he pulled me into his chest.

He didn’t respond right away, and when he did, his voice was tight. “I plan to keep that promise.”

But I knew what he wasn’t saying. That it might not be possible. And with Collin waiting for us somewhere outside this house . . . I knew Knox was right.





Chapter 21


Harlow

Present Day—Thatch

GRAHAM AND DEACON were sitting at the kitchen table when we finally left the room and went to search for them, and both of them shot up out of their chairs when they saw us walking toward them.

“Hey, right,” Graham said, and his eyes dropped to the table where there were more to-go boxes.

“Clothes fit,” Deacon observed, then cleared his throat. “I mean, do the clothes fit?”

“We bought breakfast,” Graham said before I could answer Deacon’s question, and my eyes widened when he continued. “Are you hungry? You should probably eat, we got a lot of food, take whatever you want.”

“Yeah, but we didn’t get eggs!” Deacon blurted. “No eggs, so you don’t have to—” Graham shoved his arm, and Deacon looked worried, like I might break down right there in their kitchen. “Um, so how’s your head? We should probably look at the cut,” Deacon mumbled as his eyes locked on my forehead.

“We don’t need to do anything. I cleaned it again before we came out here,” Knox said, his tone annoyed, but clearly amused.

Knox had given them a perfect description. Mother hens.

I stopped playing with my hands and gestured to the food. “Thank you, and thank you for the clothes, and everything. Just . . . thank . . . you,” I ended lamely. Because before I’d finished with my thanks, Deacon and Graham were already moving into action.

Deacon was grabbing a plate and cup out of cupboards, and after handing off the plate to Graham, went over to the fridge to fill up the cup with orange juice while Graham piled food onto the plate. Graham was still filling the plate when Deacon set the drink down, so he turned right back around to grab silverware, and placed it in front of me at the same time Graham slid the beyond-full plate toward me.

“I can’t . . .” I began, but didn’t finish. Both guys were staring at me like they were proud of what they’d done, and eager to have me eat.

“I’ll eat what you can’t,” Knox promised softly in my ear, but the guys still heard.

“Get your own, that’s hers!” Deacon huffed.

Knox looked at me, the hint of a smile playing on his lips. His eyes dragged over to where the guys were now getting more plates for themselves and mouthed, “Mother hens.”

Knox held out a chair for me, then walked into the kitchen once I was seated. When he slid into the chair next to me, all he had was a fork. My eyes were still wide as I alternated staring at the plate and eyeing the other two guys in the kitchen. I hated eating in front of people. They always noticed too much, things I didn’t want them to—not that these three didn’t already know enough. And from what Graham had placed in front of me, he and Deacon planned on me eating a lot.

There were two biscuits—each one bigger than one of my fists—smothered in gravy, four sausage patties, four strips of bacon, a mountain of hash browns, and the largest cinnamon roll I’d ever seen.

Knox’s lips went to my ear. “They aren’t expecting anything, they’re just giving you a choice. They won’t judge you, Low.” With a kiss to my jaw, he pulled away, only to bring my chair closer to his as he dug into the food.

I looked over the table as the other two guys followed his lead, and tried to sort through the twisting in my stomach and warming in my chest. Everything felt so conflicted, and I couldn’t make sense of it. This morning felt good, right even. Waking up in Knox’s arms, spending unhurried time learning each other’s bodies, and now eating breakfast with him and his friends—that was the warming in my chest. Sitting there, I could see this happening for years to come. But then my stomach twisted tighter.

No matter how right it all felt, no matter how much I wanted it, it felt like a lie in that moment. We were pretending that my monster wasn’t somewhere waiting for me, probably already making plans to hurt those I loved—if he wasn’t already trying to carry them out.

I don’t know how long I sat there, staring at the table but seeing nothing, before Knox tilted my head to the side so I was facing him.

“What is it?” he asked, his voice low and tone dark. His body was on alert suddenly, and the guys felt the anxious energy rolling off Knox, judging by the way they both dropped their forks.

I held Knox’s stare for a few seconds as I debated telling him. I didn’t want to ruin the morning, but we couldn’t avoid it forever. “I need to do something about Collin. Soon.”

Knox was nodding before I finished talking. “We know. We’re going to talk about our plans when we’re done eating.”