Chapter 35

Chapter Thirty-Five

Knox

I love hockey.

Fucking love it.

But I can honestly say that this is the first time in my life that I’ve been itching for it to be over so I can go back home.

Can go back to Ivy, to Evie, to Winter and Snowball.

Texts and calls aren’t enough.

Sexy, naked FaceTime isn’t enough.

Ivy was right—leaving right when we started figuring things out blows.

And it doesn’t help that everything with Hiller exploded while we were gone—swear to fuck, if I have to dance around one more question about the bastard, I’ll track him down myself, show him exactly what it feels like to be covered in bruises.

Not today, though.

Today, I’m going to see my girls.

KNOX: Hey, lioness. We just landed. I know it’s getting near Evie’s bedtime, so I can take an Uber to your place if you want.

The sun is setting in the distance, but I can’t wait till tomorrow to see them.

I can’t.

But even though that antsy energy is flowing through my limbs, I resist the urge to text again. It’s Monday and they’ll just be getting home from karate. Then there’s dinner to be made, homework to do, furry critters to take care of.

Her response comes after we’ve loaded up onto the bus that’ll take us back to the rink where mostly everyone’s car is.

IVY: I think you should go to your place?—

No lie, my heart convulses at those words.

Luckily, I’m a fast reader, so it’s only for a moment.

Because then I see the rest of the text.

And my heart pulses for a completely different reason.

IVY: Evie and I caught the Plague. I want to see you, but we’ve been down with fevers (and worse) all night and I don’t want you to get sick.

IVY: I know we drove you, so you don’t have your car, but do you think someone can give you a lift home?

There’s a lot to unpack in that, but I just focus on what’s most important.

KNOX: Rest, my lioness. One of the guys can bring me back.

IVY: Thanks, Knox. I’m sorry.

KNOX: No apologies, baby. I’ll see you soon.

IVY: I’ll give you the all-clear when we won’t contaminate you.

Heart twisting, I swipe out of the text chain. “What’s that look for?”

I glance over at Lake as I start typing on my phone—only this time it’s not to message my woman. “Think you can give me a ride to Ivy’s?”

His eyes narrow. “What’s wrong?”

“She and Evie are sick.”

“That sucks.”

“So?” I say as we pull into the lot, hitting the button to submit the order for soup and simple sandwiches for dinner, and then promptly opening a different app so I can get Sick Day groceries and supplies.

My captain claps me on the shoulder. “Consider Lake Jordan’s Taxi Service at your disposal.”

I pause and turn to him as the bus pulls to a stop and he starts gathering his stuff. “Lake?”

He lifts his eyebrows in question.

“I’ve seen it, you know,” I say quietly. “What you’ve done for me, for Ivy, for Evie.”

He’s run interference, made sure her part in Hiller’s demise stayed between the small group of us and not the assholes on the roster. And further that, he’s made it clear that he approves of Ivy and I together—and that anyone talking shit is going to have to deal with him.

In short, he’s given us space.

In short, he’s been a good friend.

A good brother.

He starts to shake his head, but I stop him.

“I see it,” I say, clapping him on the shoulder and holding his stare. “And I appreciate it.”

He stills. Then his big chest expands and collapses on a slow, deep breath. “You had a hand in bringing me Nova.” His eyes warm just at the sound of her name. “The least I can do is make sure that you have the same.”

“Except you always have to one-up me.” I mock scowl.

“Do I even want to know?” he asks dryly.

“You gave me two for the price of one—Evie and Ivy.” I grin.

A shake of his head.

One I ignore because I go back to my grocery order.

But I don’t miss that he’s grinning too.

I knock on Ivy’s front door, knowing I’m doing the right thing, but nervous all the same.

What if I mess this up?

What if I don’t give her what she needs?

What if?—

The door swings open and?—

All of those worries disappear in a flash, certainty settling in their place.

Yeah, I’m absolutely doing the right thing.

Holy hell.

She looks like death warmed over—pale skin, dark circles beneath her eyes, hair in a knotted ponytail that’s barely clinging to life.

“Knox?” she asks, and I wince.

Her voice is a rasp, and my throat convulses in sympathy.

“I thought I told you?—”

I brush my knuckles along her cheek, then lightly grip her shoulder and guide her back inside. “Hush now, lioness,” I say, shutting the door behind us. “When’s the last time you sat down?”

A shake of her head, her eyes distant, her ponytail giving up its fight and collapsing.

“Evie woke up in the middle of the night not feeling good and then the puking started.” She shudders. “So much puke. I need to finish cleaning—” She takes a step toward the kitchen and nearly falls over.

“Right,” I mutter, shooting out a hand, steadying her, and when she wavers again almost immediately, I curse softly and scoop her up into my arms.

“Wh—”

“You need to be in bed.”

“But the dishes— And Evie?—”

“I got it, baby.”

“You don’t have?—”

“Lioness.” I wait until her bleary eyes meet mine. “Remember what I said before?”

“You’re not leaving?” she rasps.

“Exactly.” I kiss the top of her head, feel the heat just blazing off her and start carrying her down the hall, not stopping until I’m in her room and settling her on her bed. She’s shivering and pale, but her color’s high.

Definitely spiking a fever.

“Medicine?” I ask quietly.

She winces, rubs her temple, like that’s too loud, but says, “Gave Evie her dose a couple hours ago.”

“And you?” I murmur.

“I—” She just shakes her head. “I don’t remember.”

Of course not. Which means that she and I are going to have a talk later—after she’s feeling better—about her taking better care of herself.

Or, at least, allowing me to do it for her.

“Stay here,” I order softly then go into her bathroom. The medicine’s on the counter, so I snag the proper dose then dampen a wash cloth. The latter goes on her forehead, the former I set on the bedside table.

Water. Maybe some crackers to soothe her stomach before she takes it.

“I’ll be right back,” I whisper.

“I can?—”

I tuck the blankets a little more tightly around her then slip out to the kitchen…just as there’s a knock at the door and the groceries are dropped off.

“Perfect.” I retrieve the bags, head into the kitchen, and put the necessary items away, taking note of the dishes and pile of laundry on the table. Later . I fill a cup with water, grab some crackers and a few other things for Ivy. On the way back to her room I pop my head in to check on Evie and find her sleeping.

Then I’m back in Ivy’s room, setting the packet of crackers, water, and cup of flat Sprite next to the medicine on the side table.

“Knox?” she rasps.

I tuck an arm behind her, coax her to sitting. “See if you can keep this down, lioness.”

She nods weakly but manages to nibble at the cracker I pass her then to take a few sips of the soda.

“Now the medicine, baby.”

She gets it down, but I don’t miss that even sitting up this long takes it out of her.

“Just relax. I’ve got you and Evie.”

“You don’t?—”

“I know I don’t have to,” I tell her, flipping the towel so the cool side is against her skin. “But I’m not going anywhere, lioness, so stop asking.”

Her eyes fix on mine and there’s the strength, the steel in her—even if it’s just a flicker making it through all that sick. “I was going to say,” she whispers, “that you don’t have to be here, but thank you for it anyway.”

“Oh,” I mutter.

The barest flicker of a smile. “Yeah. Oh.”

Grinning at her tartness even as something inside me settles, I help her lie back and smooth down her hair.

“What did you give me?” she asks, her lids heavy.

“Cold medicine,” I tell her. “And Mama Adler’s famous sick day protocol.”

Her brows drag together. “What’s that?”

“Flat Sprite and saltines.” I touch her flushed cheek. “Cures even the most stubborn stomach.”

“Knox,” she whispers, her hand finding mine.

“What?”

“Your mom.” Her fingers squeeze mine. “I’m sorry you lost her.”

“She’s alive in here”—I touch the spot above my heart—“and here”—my temple—“so even though she’s not in this house, fussing over you and Evie like it’s her job, she gave me the tools so I can.”

“ Knox .”

“What’s up, lioness?”

“I’m not sure I know how to handle this,” she murmurs.

“You’re not used to people being kind to you.” I lean in and kiss the top of her head. “But that’s going to change, baby. I’m going to make sure of it.”

“Men,” she whispers.

“What?”

“I’m not used to men being kind to me.” She turns her palm over, lacing our fingers together. “With men it’s always been rough hands and sharp words and forced—” She breaks off.

Forced .

Christ.

It takes everything in me to not yank my hand from hers and then go and plow it into the wall, over and over again.

“That time is done,” I say instead.

“I know,” she murmurs, “because you’re my safe place.”

“Dammit, lioness.”

Confusion in pretty brown eyes. “What?”

I touch her cheek. “I really want to kiss you for saying that.”

Her mouth curves. “Do it later when I don’t have the plague.”

I chuckle. “Exactly.”

“Is Evie?—?”

“Sleeping.”

Relief sliding across her face.

“Thank you.”

“I’ll let you rest.” I start to push up from the bed but her fingers catch mine. “Need something else, my lioness?”

“Yeah.”

I flip the towel on her forehead again. “What’s that?”

Her eyes are hazy, but her words are clear. “Will you stay a little while and tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

“About your mom.”

I still, heart squeezing, understanding exactly how much courage it took her to make that request. Deepening our connection. Allowing me in. Knowing every part of me.

It feels big.

As big as her letting me hold her after Hiller hurt her.

As big as…her opening her heart to the potential of us.

So it’s not even a question as I settle back down on the edge of the mattress and smile, picking out one of my favorite memories. “Well, there is a funny story that involves Ella, me, our dog Max, and a jar of peanut butter.”

She giggles. “Tell me more.”

I do, and I’m just getting to the part where my mom returned home to find Ella, myself, and Max covered in peanut butter when I look down and see her eyes are starting to slide closed.

Bending, I brush the backs of my knuckles along her cheek. “Rest now, lioness.”

“But I need to know how it ends,” she whines quietly.

“You will.” I stand. “Because I’ll be around to tell you.”