Page 34 of The Knight (Endgame 2)
But there was a boyishness to his face. That’s gone now.
“I’ve been looking for you,” he says, sounding tormented.
I shift, uncomfortable. “You know it’s over between us.”
“I made a mistake,” he says, taking my hand. “When I found out about your father, thinking about what it would do for my career. Then my dad making his fucking ultimatums.”
My heart squeezes in remembered grief as I’d realized how little I meant to him. We had said I love you to each other. We had promised to marry each other. And he had turned his back at the first sign of trouble.
“It was a difficult time for everyone,” I say, trying to be kind. It’s for the best that we found out then that we wouldn’t work out. Better that than finding out after we said I do.
“I had time to think about it.” He stalks away, muttering a curse. “And then the auction.”
One night at Gabriel’s house Justin showed up—at my window, no less. Like some knight in shining armor. That’s the thing about a knight whose armor shines, though. It’s never been in battle. Never been tested. Tarnished black armor like Gabriel’s—that’s where strength lies.
Looking at Justin now, he does seem harder than before. Stronger.
He turns to face me, his expression resolute. “Avery, I know I failed you before. I love you, and I let you down. I’m going to make it up to you, if you’ll let me. And I’ll never leave you again.”
I take an instinctive small step back, dismayed by the strange allure of him. He represents my old life, the one I’ve left behind. A small voice whispers, you’ll get some of it back.
“I don’t know,” I say, shaking my head.
“Just talk to me,” he says, voice low. “Sit with me. Don’t kick me out. That’s all I’m asking. I know we have a long way to go until you trust me again.”
I look down, on the verge of unexpected tears. Even with Harper here I’ve been so desperately alone. Facing Gabriel, who plays chess like a grand master. And I’m fumbling every turn.
The promise of a friend is so tempting.
“Okay,” I say, voice breaking. “Let’s talk.”
“Thank you,” he says, earnest and impossibly handsome. He looks older with a five o’clock shadow across his jaw, his hair tousled instead of neatly cropped.
He pulls something from his pocket and holds it out.
I open it, blinking at what I see. The deed to a house. In Washington. “What? But how—”
“My father disowned me,” he says, speaking faster. “I told him I wasn’t going to give you up. Even though I didn’t know if you’d ever accept me again, I wanted him to know.”
“Oh my God, Justin.”
“From there I went to the senator who opposed my father. He lost because he didn’t play dirty. But I know all my father’s tricks.”
My eyes widen. “You’re going to help someone win against him?”
“No, Avery. I’m going to run against him. I’m going to win.”
My mouth opens. And closes.
I struggle to take in what he’s telling me. “But I don’t understand. The next election isn’t for two years. And how did you get money for a house if your father disowned you?”
“I made a deal with the party. Told them enough so they’d know I was serious. Kept enough back so they’d still need me. And I got an advance on my percentage of the ad buys.”
Shock stops my heart. “No,” I whisper.
“Yes,” he says forcefully. “I know you wanted your mother’s house. I couldn’t get that one, but we can build a life in this one. A new family.”
“A family,” I repeat faintly.
“I needed to show you that I’m serious about this, about us. I need you to know you can trust me now. I’ll never leave you again. We can leave this behind.”
I know I should be moved that Justin chose me after all, grateful that he made this gesture even if it wasn’t the one I wanted. But even while I hold the piece of paper, so thin for a document this important, all I can think about is Gabriel—the way he tucked me in. The way he made me kneel. Gestures that moved me deeper than I thought possible.Chapter Twenty-OneIn the next few hours the landscape of my room changes drastically. Christopher insists that Harper leave the motel. Any of the ritzy hotels will suffice. Harper wants me to come with her, but I decline for the same reason that I wouldn’t go with Justin. I want to survive on my own, however painful it is. And it’s pretty painful watching my friend pack her stuff.
“Come with me,” she says again, eyes imploring.
“I think you just want me as a shield,” I tease her. “I don’t think Christopher’s that bad.”
“Um, whose side are you on? He’s awful. And I wouldn’t turn down a shield. Or an entire fortress and drawbridge even. But I want you to come because you’re my friend.”
