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When I opened my eyes, I saw Knox watching me.
My cheeks burned as I asked, “They remind me of my mom. Do you like them as much as I do?”
His eyes crinkled with his smile. “I sure do.” He took another bite, and as he moved his arm, I noticed the turtle again. It wasn’t a sea turtle, more like a land turtle you might find alongside the road.
“Can I ask about your tattoo?” I asked.
“Which one?”
I tapped my finger on the turtle, his skin so hot against mine, my reaction to it so strong, it took all I had not to jerk my hand away. When I met his eyes, they were dark, stormy blue. He reached for a napkin from the holder in the middle of his table and wiped his lips.
I couldn’t look away from those lips.
“You can ask,” he said, his voice low.
Despite the white noise crackling from the monitor, it felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room, leaving space only for Knox and me. “What does it mean?” I nearly whispered, my fingertips still on his tattoo.
He covered my hand on his arm, holding us still for a moment before taking a breath. “I got it for my mom.”
My heart clenched, and even though we were so close, too close, I couldn’t pull my hand away.
His lips turned at the corners, like he was smiling at a memory. “Every summer out in the country, you see turtles crossing the road. And it’s safest to just keep driving because if you overcorrect on a dirt road, you’re at risk of rolling the car.”
I nodded, remembering my mom and Tay taking me on back country roads to practice driving when I was fourteen.
“Most people don’t even bother slowing down. But whenever my mom was driving and we saw a turtle, she’d slow down and stop. Then she’d put the car in park, turn on her hazards, get out of the vehicle and move that turtle across the road, at least a good ten yards away, even if the weeds in the ditch were waist high, so the turtle wouldn’t get a death wish and cross back over again.”
I found my own lips curving at his statement. “She seems so tenderhearted.”
He nodded. “One day, I was running late to baseball practice, and she still slowed down and stopped. I was worried about my coach making me run extra laps, kind of annoyed with her, so I asked her why she always did that, even when we had places to be. And she told me something that’s always stuck with me. ‘Someday, if I’m stuck in a bad place, even if I got myself there, I hope there will be people around to help get me out of it, even if it’s a little inconvenient for them.’” He turned those dark blue eyes on me, like he had shifted out of his memory and back to the present. “It’s funny, all the things your parents tell you. Be good. Do your homework. Hold the door. Say thank you. But it’s their actions that teach you the most.”
He glanced down, breaking the spell, and let go of my hand.
I brought it back to my own lap, coming back down to earth. He was right about actions speaking louder than words. I was a mom first, and I wanted my kids to know, tosee, that I always prioritized them, even if it meant setting aside my feelings for Knox so he could be their friend without my heart getting in the way.
15
KNOX
Those brownies werethe best I’d ever had. But the company was even better. I lay in bed that night thinking about Larkin and how different she was from anyone I’d met.
Women had commented on my tattoos before.
Told me they were hot.
But never had someone taken the time to ask me questions like that and then truly listened for my answer when I spoke, not asking for anything in return, not expecting anything of me, just... sitting with me and understanding me.
As a kid who grew up feeling misunderstood most of the time, I appreciated that more than Larkin would even know. Unfortunately, she was going out with Bennett on Friday, and I needed to respect that. But how could I when I liked her so much?
Just a few days after eating brownies with her, my evenings were feeling emptier than they had before. I missed eating brownies with her before bed, and we weren’t even together. I kept glancing over to her house, wondering what she and her kids were up to. Seeing them play in the backyard or haul a wagon across the street to the closest park.
So I was glad when my dad called me on Thursday and asked if I would go and check cattle with him. It had been a little while since we hung out, so it would be nice to catch up with him and see how he was doing. When you lose a parent, you never forget how important the remaining one is to you.
I drove my truck out to the country, going past the Griffen Farms sign until I saw the sign for Madigan Ranch. There were so many memories attached to this place, good and hard. For a long time, it was difficult to see my childhood home and not think of how my mom passed away in her bedroom when I was still a boy.
But time had given me the gift of perspective. Of new memories and the ability to remember the good times with Mom like I wasn’t able to do when the pain was still so fresh. I didn’t see Dad’s pickup by the house, so I drove on past to the dark red barn farther down the trail. As the corral came into view, I could see him adjusting the saddles on two horses.
My eyebrows rose as I pulled up. I got out of the truck and called over to him, “I thought we weredrivingto check cattle!”