Page 37 of Knox

This place is, for all intents and purposes, the Harknetts’ unofficial Batcave and our favorite fika place.

As we walk through the empty bakery, I spot Mr. Weasley, a fat, ginger tomcat, stretching out over the main counter while Sarumeown, the white cat, is tearing a ball of knitting yarn to shreds on a nearby armchair.

I look around to see if I can find Dr. Jekyll, a cat with a black-and-white split face, and my favorite… but he is probably sleeping upstairs in Finnian’s flat.

“Oh, man… you’ve already closed the bakery, and you’re probably exhausted,” I say, guilt hitting me as I look at the empty display cases. “I’m sorry for dropping in like this.”

“Don’t be,” Finnian says, waving a hand dismissively as he leads me toward the back. “I love gossip. Especially when it concerns all of you big, brooding idiots.”

He takes a seat, and as soon as I look down at the table, I notice he has already placed my favorite coffee and a Fifty Shades of Glaze… a fruit tart that happens to be my ultimate guilty pleasure.

I can’t help but laugh.

“Am I really that predictable?”

“Aye. Like I said, lad. I love the gossip,” he says, patting the chair next to his. “Sit. Tell us everything.”

I sit, take a bite of the tart, and fidget with my napkin.

What the hell am I supposed to say?

How do I even begin to phrase the stupid thing I did?

Finnian watches me. “Is it that bad, then?”

“Worse than you think…”

“Worse than murder?!”

I grimace. “Some might argue.”

Ugh, why am I so hesitant?

Stupid question… I know exactly why.

I’m hesitant because the second I say it out loud, everything I did… and how I feel in this moment, becomes real.

And I’m not ready for that reality.

But I also can’t run from it forever.

“I won’t tell a soul, Knox,” Finnian promises, lifting his palm. “We baker-therapists take a sacred vow of silence. It’s a professional code.”

I give him a skeptical look.

“Seriously. It’s nae different than the time Damián messed up, or when Law did.”

“Law fucked up? How the hell did I not know about that?”

“Like I said, vow of silence. Besides, I’ve had therapy sessions with Björn. Absolutely nothing shocks me anymore.” He laughs, taking a sip from a can of Irn-Bru.

I take a breath, staring down into my coffee. Then, I just force the words out before I choke on them.

“Two nights ago, I snuck out of my room. I climbed the exterior balcony and broke into Cillian Harrington-Hale’s bedroom. He was naked, so I obviously wrestled with him… and then I sort of… made him… cum… with my hand.”

Finnian chokes on his Irn-Bru and starts coughing.

Great.