Page 12 of Twilight of Embers
His hands dropped away from my face, and then he pulled the sweatshirt over my head. “You need to get warm. And then you’re going to eat every bite of that muffin and drink all the hot chocolate.”
I arched an eyebrow at him as I pushed my arms through the sleeves of his sweatshirt. It was still warm from the heat of Knox’s body. And the smell? It was like fresh pine after a hard rain. I wanted to live in that scent.
“Eat,” he clipped.
“Enough with the orders, caveman,” I snapped back.
Knox’s expression gentled. “Sorry. I’m just worried about you.” He nudged the muffin closer to me. “I thought you were going to pass out cold.”
Seeing the genuine worry in his eyes, I broke off a piece of the muffin and popped it into my mouth. The lemon flavor burst on my tongue, and I couldn’t help the little moan that escaped. “This is amazing.”
I looked up to see Knox’s eyes had gone completely gold.
He jerked his focus away from me and toward something in the distance. When he looked back, they were back to the same green with flecks of gold.
I blinked a few times. I was officially losing it.
Knox sat in the chair next to mine and flicked his gaze to the muffin pointedly.
“Okay, okay.” I took another few bites, and the tension in Knox’s shoulders began to ease.
“Where is your family from originally?” he asked once the muffin was half gone.
My stomach pitched. “I grew up in Maine when I was little, then the Seattle area.”
What I didn’t share was that it was a family friend of my parents who had brought me to Washington. I’d thought they were going to take me in but had placed me in foster care instead, saying it was “for the best”.
Knox tapped out a beat on the table as if puzzling that through. “What about your lineage?”
My brows furrowed as I ate another bite of the muffin. “Like ancestry?” What an odd question.
Knox nodded. “Yeah.” He smiled, but it didn’t read as authentic. “I’m Irish, through and through.”
“I honestly don’t know.” When I’d been a kid, that kind of thing hadn’t interested me. Now, I didn’t have anyone to ask.
Knox’s brows pulled together. “Your parents never talk about it?”
“My parents are dead. They were killed when I was eleven.”
I said the words completely deadpan. As if the fact created no emotion in me at all. In reality, it fueled the kind of storm that would never end.
Knox’s face went pale. This would be the end. People didn’t like when things got real or when you reminded them of all they had to lose. In a few minutes, Knox would make some excuse—a practice he forgot about, a meeting, or breakfast with a friend. He’d leave, and I’d never see him again.
But that didn’t happen. Instead, Knox did something that shocked me. He took his hand in mine, linking our fingers. The move was so smooth and natural it was as if he’d been doing it every day of both our lives.
“I’m so sorry, Hayden. I know what it’s like to lose someone you love. I know it changes you. I hate that you’ve had to go through that.”
I blinked a few times, staring into those beautiful green eyes. There was nothing but truth there. He did know. And that knowing made me feel truly seen for the first time in years.
“I’m sorry for you, too.” My voice was barely a whisper, but Knox heard me. His fingers spasmed around mine.
“Who were you with after you lost your parents?” he asked.
I broke away from Knox’s gaze, not wanting to see pity there. “My parents didn’t have any living family—”
“Yo, Gallagher,” one of the boys from yesterday called.
Knox’s nostrils flared as annoyance filled his gaze. His fingers dropped mine as he spoke. “Hey.”
