Page 46 of Knot the Last Chapter

I clutch the coat tighter around myself and keep going, step by step, through wind and rain and memory.

Because if I don’t move now, I might stay.

And I’m not sure I’m ready for what might happen if I stay too long.

Chapter twenty-five

Rhys

The gym is dimly lit, the faint glow from the sconces near the stairwell casting long, wavering shadows across the concrete floor. The scent of metal, old sweat, and storm-dampened wood lingers in the air. Rain slashes against the high windows in a steady rhythm, the wind groaning through the rafters like a warning.

The heavy bag swings slightly, creaking with each motion. The rhythmic thud of fists meeting leather echoes through the space like a pulse. Focused. Relentless.

Tyler is here.

His shirt clings to his back, soaked through with sweat, every muscle in his arms and shoulders coiled tight with tension. His fists, wrapped in worn gauze, slam into the bag again and again, each blow carrying something deeper than simple frustration.

Rage. Regret. Something aching and raw.

I lean against the doorframe and watch in silence, letting him have the moment.

Three more punches.

Then he grabs the bag with both hands, forehead pressed to the leather, and exhales. It’s not a breath so much as a quiet surrender, like he’s bleeding out something invisible inside.

“You trying to knock that thing off its chain?” I ask, stepping forward.

He doesn’t look at me. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Figured.”

I grab a towel from the nearby bench and toss it at him. He catches it without looking, wipes his face, and slumps down onto the floor with a tired grunt.

“I messed it up,” he mutters. “With her.”

I lower myself onto the floor beside him, the coolness of the brick wall seeping through my shirt as I lean back. “Yeah. I kind of figured that, too.”

He rubs the towel over his face again, then drops it into his lap. “She looked at me like I was a stranger. Or worse. Like I was something she regretted knowing.”

“Lila?”

He nods, jaw working.

“She told me,” he says after a pause, “why she was mad.”

I glance over at him, waiting.

“She reminded me of something I said to her years ago. Back when we she was just a kid, and I was an idiot. She used to tag along with Jake, remember? Always with that notebook. Dreamy-eyed and full of ideas. One day she showed me a story she wrote, and I—” he swallows hard, “—I told her it sounded like a Scooby Doo episode.”

“Oof,” I say, wincing.

“Yeah. Thought I was being funny. Thought I was flirting, being charming. I mean, I really liked Scooby Doo, you know? And I liked her, even then. But she took it to heart. She told me she stopped writing for years because of it.”

“She’s been writing again, though,” I offer as consolation. Tyler is a good guy, but he doesn’t always get how much room he takes.

He nods. “Because of Pine.”

I frown. “Wait, what?”