Page 69 of Keep Me Close

Instead of jumping in or telling me what he thinks I should do, he merely looks at me and waits. For some reason, that makes it harder. There’s no pressure or expectation in his expression.

Just space.

I pick at the edge of the French toast. “She was kind enough to remind me that this is how we make our money. And it’s what the fans expect from us. From me.”

The moment the words leave my mouth, I realize how ridiculous they sound. Kind of like I’m reciting someone else’s script.

Knox leans back against the counter, crossing his arms over his bare chest. His biceps bulge in the most distracting way, and it’s hard not to eat him up with my eyes.

“So… What is it that you want?”

The question throws me for a loop. Which seems to be the general theme this morning.

I open my mouth, unsure what to say, before snapping it shut again. Maybe what I want is more time here and mornings like this. More of the woman I get to be when no one is telling me who to become.

Maybe what I really want is more of Knox McNichols.

I stare down at the coffee in my hands, because there’s no way I can say that out loud.

24

Knox

The silence stretches before she admits, “I don’t know. Maybe something else. Something different.”

My brows tug together. “What do you mean?”

She hesitates before glancing away, and I get the feeling she’s trying to decide how much she wants to tell me.

“The reason I came to Chicago… It wasn’t just to get away from Dakota.”

“Okay,” I say carefully. “Then what was it?”

“There’s an audition in a few days. For Broadway.”

All I can do is stare.

Broadway.

I don’t know what I expected her to say, but that wasn’t it. And yet, hearing it makes perfect sense. She didn’t just come here to hide. She came here for an opportunity.

“Oh, wow. That’s… huge.” I give my head a slight shake. “You never mentioned it.”

“I didn’t tell anyone. I wanted to see if I could even get an audition. And I was afraid if I told my family, they’d try to talk me out of it. Or tell me I’m not good enough. Or remind me how unrealistic it is and why I should just stick with what people expect from me.” Her voice catches at the end. “So I kept it to myself.”

My chest constricts. Not because I don’t believe she can do it, but because she’s spent way too long surrounded by people who make her doubt her worth and what she’s capable of.

And I really fucking hate that.

“You’re good enough,” I blurt.

Her eyes widen as they lock on mine.

Color rises in her cheeks as she tries to shrug off the compliment. “I don’t know if I am or not. But I want the chance to find out. I want people to take me seriously.” Her tone dips. “I want to take myself seriously.”

It’s the first thing she’s said this morning that actually sounds like her. Not her mother or the network. Just her.

I push away from the counter, moving closer before settling onto the stool beside her. “It kind of sounds like you already have your answer.”