by Mara Wells
“She knows.” Riley lifted towels from the floor until they overflowed her arms. “We need to get her out of here.”
“Wait, what? I don’t know anything.” Danielle sniffled. God, she felt ten years old, crying because she took a dodgeball to the chest too hard. And darn it, the more she thought about them, the more her feet hurt.
Carrie and Riley looked at each other, then Sydney. Sydney cleared her throat, clearly volunteering to deliver whatever the bad news was. “When the Dorothy is finished, Knox is taking a position at a security outfit in Atlanta.”
“He turned down a perfectly good job offer from Lance, too.” Carrie’s narrowed eyes broadcast how she felt about that decision. “He didn’t tell you?”
“No.” Danielle pulled in a shuddering breath. “You said he’s leaving?”
The three women nodded, and Danielle felt the bathroom walls move toward her. Her vision darkened at the edges. “He’s leaving again?”
Carrie took LouLou and handed her off to Sydney. “I’ve got this. Syd, you get the bride back out there.” Then she draped an arm around Danielle’s shoulders and pulled her in for a hug. Too stunned to even cry, Danielle stood there, shaking.
Riley’s makeup repairs were made from a tiny kit in Sydney’s clutch. Riley’s dress was straightened. Before Danielle knew what was happening, Riley and Sydney were gone, and she was alone in the bathroom with Carrie.
“He’s an asshole.” Carrie whispered the words sweetly in Danielle’s ear. “He doesn’t deserve you. I can’t believe he wouldn’t tell you. What is wrong with him? Ugh, men.” Carrie kept up the trash talk, getting more outrageous as the rant continued until finally Danielle was able to stand on her own. The shaking subsided.
“I want to go home.” Danielle rubbed at her newly raccooned eyes.
“Of course you do.” Carrie wet a paper towel and dabbed at the smeared mascara on Danielle’s face. “Then you need to give Knox what for. I won’t even tell him a little hell is coming his way. I wish I could see his face when you lay into him.”
“I’m not mad.” Danielle tidied her dress, straightening the straps and tugging the neckline a millimeter higher. “I knew it would end. At least now I have a timeline. After the Dorothy is done. That’s what? Three weeks out? Maybe a month?”
“Oh no, I’m not doing his dirty work for him. Come on. Let’s get you out of here.” Carrie hustled Danielle out the side door of the Dorothy. “I’ll tell your dad and my mom you weren’t feeling well after the fall. Don’t be surprised if she comes out and checks on you tonight.”
“She doesn’t need to.” Danielle paused with her hand on the door, ready to push it open and make her escape.
Carrie gave her a one-sided hug. “That’s not how family works. Don’t sleep naked tonight, okay? They might get home late, and that would lead to all kinds of awkwardness.”
“I won’t.” Danielle mustered a watery smile for Carrie and stepped into the night. Maybe it was cowardly to run away. Maybe it was smart. She’d figure it out tomorrow.
Chapter 32
Knox ignored the buzzing in his pocket, concentrating on creating a perfect line with the trim paint between the baseboard and wall. The edging tool would probably help, but Knox enjoyed the challenge of freehand painting. It required all his focus and freed him from corralling roaming thoughts and runaway emotions, like the ones he was deliberately blocking from yesterday’s wedding reception. Of course she’d run off after his fall. Weddings made a person think about forever, and who wanted to spend forever with a guy as broken as he was? He thumped his bum leg with the heel of his hand. Stupid thing was feeling fine today, or at least as fine as it ever felt. A night of tossing and turning, wondering what he could’ve done differently, said differently, in the past week that might have changed things—might’ve convinced her to run to him instead of away.
Sarge whined and bumped his back pocket, a move that jigged the tiny paintbrush.
“Dammit.”
He wasn’t cursing at the dog, but Sarge still took it personally, drooping his head, tail between his legs. Danielle had told him that greyhounds often carried their tail tucked under—something about aerodynamics and reduced drag while running—and not to take it personally if Sarge walked around that way. Combined with the sad eyes, though, the tucked tail made Knox feel like a jerk. He wiped the errant paint away with a damp towel and deposited his painting supplies onto the drop cloth under his feet.
“Come here, boy.” Knox knelt on his good knee and patted his thigh. Sarge slunk over to him, tip of his tail tentatively wagging. “It wasn’t you. You’re a good boy, the best boy. I hate the damn phone is all. It’s like a needy baby, always wanting me to do something for it. Check this notification, answer this call, return a text. Sometimes a man just wants to be alone with his paintbrush and his dog, you know what I mean, Sarge?”
Sarge’s tail thumped full speed by the end of Knox’s speech, and Knox took a long moment to rough up the dog’s fur, showering him with praise the whole time.
“Now that’s something I never thought I’d see,” Lance drawled from the doorway. “Guess you have a soft side after all.”
Knox pushed to his feet, not deigning to comment. “Almost done here.”
“Figured as much. Interested in doing the unit Mr. Cardoza picked out for his friend? He’s anxious for it to get the finishing touches. Says she’ll be here soon, so we’re stepping up the schedule a bit to try to get it done in time.”
“Sure thing.” Knox wiped his palms on his jeans. “I’ve probably got an hour, maybe two, left in this unit.” His phone buzzed again, and he ignored it. He picked up the paintbrush and dipped it in the paint, ready to resume work. It buzzed again, this time the sound for leaving a voicemail. Who did that these days? He hated voicemail even more than he hated picking up the phone.
“You’re not going to check it?” Lance sauntered in to inspect the trim work thus far. “I prefer to know who I’m ignoring when I’m ignoring them.”
“Probably a sales call.” Knox’s phone buzzed again, going through the same cycle that ended in a voicemail.
“Maybe it’s important.”
Knox couldn’t think of anything important enough that it had to be dealt with right away, but then he remembered Danielle had told him a few days ago that she was going on a home visit today to check out a potential new foster home. What if she’d gotten in trouble? What if she needed him? He pulled the phone out of his pocket, then turned the face in Lance’s direction. “It’s the VA. Probably an appointment reminder or something.”
He had the phone out anyway. He clicked on the voicemail and felt the blood drain from his face.
“What is it?” Lance was at his side, hand on his shoulder. “Bad news?”
“My test results are finally back.” It’d been so long since they’d been ordered and administered, it was easy to forget. The VA wasn’t known for its speed, especially in noncritical situations. “They say I have to come in to discuss them.”
“That’s normal, right? They don’t give results over the phone, do they?”
“They’ve given me good news over the phone, negative test results and all clears. Calling me in? It must be bad.” Knox steadied his breathing before Sarge could pick up on his distress. He didn’t want to worry the dog over a phone call.
Lance’s grip on his shoulder tightened. “What were you tested for?”
“Honestly? I don’t even remember. They’re always taking blood and pictures of some kind or another. I don’t even know what to be worried about.” Just the total loss of his limb. The news that he’d never gain full use of his leg. Infections. Deteriorating mobility. He’d be no good to Morales if the news was bad. No good to anyone, really. His grip tightened on the phone.
“Want me to go with you?” Lance planted his hands on his hips in his classic I’m-the-boss-of-this-job-site
stance. “I could hold your hand.”
Knox choked out a laugh. “It’s fine. I’ll call back for an appointment.”
Lance clapped him on the back. “I’ll leave you to it. Keep me posted, will you?”
Knox gave him a thumbs-up and hit Redial. After a few moments of establishing who he was, he had an appointment for the next day. Another bad sign as far as he was concerned. The VA was never in a hurry. His hands shook a little when he picked up the paintbrush, so he decided to call it a day. Perks of being an owner and not a regular grunt.
“Come on, Sarge. Wanna go to the park?”
Sarge surged to his feet, practically bowling Knox over on his way to the door. Apparently, Sarge did indeed want to go to the park. Knox locked up behind him, trying to shove down the hope that Danielle would already be up on the roof. What were the odds? Better if you text her, a little voice whispered in his mind. He obeyed. Might as well use the phone for something good. Exactly like how he’d felt on the drive home from visiting his dad in prison yesterday, Danielle was the only person he wanted to talk to. Would she want to talk to him? He let out a relieved sigh at her reply.
Just got back from the home visit. I’ll pick up the girls and head over there now. The dots bounced and then she added, I shouldn’t have run off last night. Sorry.
Knox stopped hating his phone. Good little gadget that it was, it was bringing Danielle right to him. He didn’t question why he needed to see her so urgently; he just knew that he did. Sarge pulled him toward the front doors, and because they had time, Knox pointed them at the ramp that wound its way up the side of the parking garage to the park. A runner with a Doberman at his side passed Knox and Sarge on their way up the slope. Knox kept his steady pace, even though Sarge wanted to rush ahead. Since getting out of the cast, the dog sometimes forgot his own limits. Knox didn’t like to be the one to remind him, but he also didn’t want the dog to injure his weakened leg, so he kept a tight hold on the leash and focused on keeping his own weight evenly distributed so his knee stayed stabilized. Ana would be proud of his restraint.
They busted through the door at the top of the ramp, triumphant. They might both be a bit limpy, but there was nothing holding them back. At least not now. A pit settled in Knox’s stomach, a mixture of anxiety and rage. What could be in the test results that couldn’t be said over the phone? Nothing good, that was for sure.
* * *
Danielle found Knox on the far end of the park, overlooking the ocean in the distance. Sarge leaned heavily against Knox’s good leg, ignoring Luna’s and Flurry’s inquisitive sniffs. A bad sign. Danielle approached with caution.
“Knox.”
His body flinched like he’d taken a blow. Slowly, he turned his back on the view, keeping a steady hand on Sarge’s head. “You came.”
“Are you okay?”
Knox didn’t look okay. He looked like he hadn’t slept well in a week, dark circles under his too-dilated eyes. She should’ve hashed things out with him last night rather than leaving them both to stew.
“Yeah.” He squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again, his face rearranging itself into a stoic mask that Danielle didn’t like one bit.
She wanted to rush him, to wrap her arms around him and promise that whatever it was, she’d make it go away. But after a week of the best sex of her life, the most fun she’d ever had with a partner, she’d run off without telling him she knew his secret plan to move in a few weeks. Not that it mattered. Last night, lying in her bed alone, she’d decided his Atlanta job was a blessing. She’d never have to explain why they couldn’t stay together because he’d never been planning on staying anyway. She pretended relief was all she felt, but at the base of it all was an emotion she recognized well—fear. She was protecting her heart, but the way it thumped right now, unsteady and hard in her chest, let her know that it wasn’t working. Whether they were kissing or not, her heart was involved again.
“I need a favor.” He ran a palm down his cheek. “From a friend.” He stressed the last word like it was foul tasting in his mouth.
“Sure. I’m here.” Problem was, he wasn’t. Or wouldn’t be, not once the work on the Dorothy was finished.
“I’ve got to go to the VA. For test results.”
“You want me to watch Sarge? I’m happy to.” Danielle attempted distancing herself. If she started now, she’d be used to it by the time he actually left.
“I want you to come with me.”
So much for distance. The starkness of the words, the bleak look he was trying to keep out of his eyes. It was bad. Her gut tightened. Real bad. “Yes.” What else could she say? Whatever else was going on between them, he was her Knox. “When is it?”
“Tomorrow.” Knox knuckled his bad thigh.
She gathered up all three dogs and herded everyone, including a silent Knox, to the elevator. “How bad is it?”
Knox closed his eyes before answering. “I don’t know.”
“What do you think it is?”
He quirked one corner of his mouth at her. “Nothing good.”
Danielle wrapped the dog leashes around her hand, over and over again. “Okay, game plan. Tomorrow morning, we’ll take Sarge to my place, and I’ll drive you.”
“I can drive.” His knuckles were so white against the dark denim of his jeans.
She swiped at her bangs, all the better to glare at him, but they fell in her eyes anyway. “I didn’t say you couldn’t.”
“Fine.” He ground out the words.
“Fine.” There was no joy in winning. “What time should I pick you both up?”
“Eight.”
Danielle wasn’t sure why he was mad at her when he was the one not telling her he had one foot out the door this whole time. Mad was better than afraid, though. They rode the elevator in silence, but she didn’t think she imagined the soft “thank you” she heard when she stepped into the parking garage.
“See you tomorrow.” She practiced walking away from him. No sense making a big scene. He’d tell her when he told her, and she’d take it with grace. Their ending was inevitable, and she should be grateful she wasn’t going to have to be the bad guy in their breakup.
* * *
Danielle held herself very still in the small chair in the corner of the doctor’s office. Knox sat on the edge of the patient table, his braced leg stretched in front of him. On the wall, the doctor was showing them some MRI and X-ray results and saying a lot of words Danielle couldn’t process. It wasn’t that she didn’t understand them. She’d been reading radiology results at her dad’s clinic since she was kid. It was that she couldn’t match what was being said with Knox. Her Knox. Her strong, capable, active Knox.
“So there’s a surgery or something, right?” Knox’s eyes were haunted again, and he wasn’t trying to hide it.
The doctor, an older man with a ring of white hair circling his otherwise bald scalp, shook his head and laid a hand on Knox’s shoulder. “No, but you’ll continue the PT, of course. Keeping up the strength and balance is important, but the brace, I’m afraid, is your best option.”
“There’s nothing else? Really nothing else?”
“You were lucky to keep the leg, Knox. Everything else is a miracle. You know how many guys I’ve seen with similar wounds that we had to amputate? You should be thanking your lucky stars for all your limbs.”
“So I’ll never get full mobility back? It’s really over.”
“You knew that.”
“I guess I’d hoped. If I worked hard, if I—” Knox bit his lip and turned his face to the wall.
“Early on, there was hope that the damaged muscle would regrow. It does in some cases, but it’s been nearly two years and there’s no sign of regeneration. At this point, it’s about as good as it’s going to get.”
“This is it? For the rest of my life?” Knox’s hissed words were laced
with fury. The doctor took a cautious step back, but Knox stayed on the table, his gaze locked on Danielle. She offered a weak smile that did nothing to relax him.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes with some new ’scrips for you that should help with pain management.” The doctor walked backward to the door and closed it behind him.
Danielle slipped out of the chair to stand in front of Knox. She put a hand on his thigh, above the brace. “It’ll be okay. You’ll keep fighting, and you’ll prove them wrong.”
Knox choked out a mirthless laugh. “That’s rich, coming from you.”
Danielle snatched her hand back. “Excuse me?”
“You want me to fight? You?” Knox’s hands bunched the white paper on the table until it tore. “What do you know about fighting?”
“I know it seems hard right now, but a good night’s sleep and you’ll be back at your PT, proving them all wrong.” She tried to keep her voice upbeat, like she was outlining cancer treatments for an older cat. “It’s a harsh blow, but there are options. There are always options.”
“Please stop.” Knox ripped paper off the table and crumpled it in his fists. “I don’t need to hear this from you, especially you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you’re not a fighter, Danielle.”
Danielle straightened her spine. “That’s not true, and you asked me to be here.”
“My mistake.” Knox waved the paper with the test results in front of him, a careless streamer. “Oh, you’ll fight for your precious dogs, do whatever it takes to train them and settle them in a good home. You’ll give up your whole life to accommodate them, your living space, everything. But you won’t fight for yourself. And you sure as hell won’t fight for us.”
“You know we don’t have a future,” Danielle said through clenched teeth.
“Because you won’t fight for it. Guess you don’t really believe there are always options. It’s all or nothing, huh? Just like when we were teens.”
