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CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE

Knight

Four weeks of watching Eva rebuild her life after I pushed her away. Four weeks of sending money she won’t touch. Four weeks of proving her right about my cowardice.

And now two days of nothing. Well, not nothing .

Two days of silence. Two days of not watching Eva through my network of cameras. Two days of staring at blank screens like they might magically make this situation I’ve caused less messy.

"This is pathetic," I tell the empty room. "Even for you."

The room doesn’t answer. Which is probably for the best. Talking to myself is already concerning enough without getting responses.

My office chair creaks as I spin slowly, studying the space that used to feel like a sanctuary. Now it just feels exactly like what it is. A cage I built for myself. An observation deck where I pretend monitoring feeds equals actual human connection.

"Well, this is going brilliantly." My sarcasm bounces off the walls. "Really excelling at the whole personal growth thing, Knight."

The cursor blinks on my main screen, tempting me with its steady rhythm. One keystroke, and I could check the feeds. See where she is. What she’s doing. Make sure she’s safe.

Keep pretending I have any control over this fucking situation.

"Because that worked so well last time." I push away from the desk. "How about we try something that doesn’t involve hiding behind a screen for a change?"

My still-healing wounds twinge as I stand. A nice reminder that all the control I surround myself with is bullshit anyway.

All my security, all my firewalls, none of it has protected anything that actually matters.

It just kept Eva at arm’s length while I pretended watching through cameras was enough.

Enough for what?

But I know the answer to that. The problem is that admitting it feels like crossing some unspoken line I’ve been tiptoeing around for years.

If what I’ve built isn’t enough, then what the hell am I doing here?

"Fuck it."

I grab my keys before I can talk myself out of this monumentally stupid fucking idea. But when I reach the elevator, I hesitate.

Go back. Stay where it’s safe, where mistakes don’t exist in real time.

I tap the code into the keypad anyway. The doors slide open, I step in, and stare at the numbers as they light up. Each floor passed is another chance to turn around. But the doors open onto the lobby before I can change my mind, and I step out. By the time I’m in my car, the doubt is practically screaming at me to turn back.

Driving doesn’t help. Every stop light turns red. It feels like an accusation, a warning. Each turn turns into a question I can’t answer. My grip on the steering wheel tightens, as if holding on harder will steady the turmoil in my head. I’m not even sure what I’m planning to say when I see her.

Sorry? It’s a start, but it won’t be enough. Will anything be enough?

Her building comes into view, familiar from countless hours of watching it through security cameras, but jarringly real now. It looks different when you’re not viewing it through a security feed. More immediate. More daunting than any system I’ve ever breached.

I park, and sit there for ten minutes, staring at the entrance, while I debate whether I’m about to ruin everything.

Again.

The lock on the main door is a joke that takes about three seconds to pick. Something I’d normally mock, except right now I’m too busy fighting the urge to turn around and run away.

"You’ve really lost it now." I start up the stairs. "Corporate servers? No problem. Actually talking to someone? Complete system fucking failure."

Three flights give me plenty of time to list all the reasons why this is going to be a spectacular mistake. The fourth adds every way it will blow up in my face. Walking along the hallway to her door reminds me of why I don’t do emotional connections.

Eva’s door looks exactly like it did through my cameras. Why wouldn’t it? It’s the kind of flimsy security that makes me physically twitch. The urge to lecture her about proper protection wars with the knowledge that it’s the kind of deflection she called me out for.

"This should go great." I raise my hand. "Nothing says ‘ I’m sorry’ quite like showing up uninvited at someone’s door."

My knuckles hover over the surface.

Last chance to retreat. Last chance to go back to my monitors and feeds. Last chance to hide behind the walls that have kept me functioning all these years.

Last chance to prove Eva is right about me.

I take a deep breath, ignoring the way it irritates the wound in my side, and knock.

Her footsteps approach from the other side.

This is it. The moment I either face this thing between us or prove I really am just the coward she accused me of being.

My heart is throwing itself against my ribs. My vision swims in and out.

Fuck. Am I having a heart attack?

Maybe I should leave and do this another day.

The door opens.

Too late.

The shock on her face says she wasn’t expecting this. Wasn’t expecting me to actually show up instead of watching from a safe distance.

"Your locks are still terrible." My voice is rough. "We should probably fix that."

"If you came here to judge my building’s security—" The door starts to swing shut.

"I came because you’re right."

The door stops moving. I lick my lips, and force myself to continue.

"About everything. Me hiding. Using distance and humor as shields. About all of it."

She doesn’t invite me in, but she doesn’t shut the door in my face either. I’m not sure what’s worse—that or the way she’s standing there … watching me with an intensity that makes me want to retreat to the safety of my apartment.

"Prove it." Her voice carries more challenge than welcome. "Prove you can handle something real without hiding or joking your way out of it."

"I don’t know how." The truth is hard to admit. "But I’m here. I’m not watching you through feeds or sending money from a safe distance."

"Why should I believe you?"

"Because showing up at your door is literally the opposite of everything I’m comfortable with?" I shove my hands in my pockets to keep from fidgeting. "Trust me, every instinct I have is screaming to run back to my computers right now."

The silence builds between us, while I battle with the terrifying realization that some things are worth the risk.

"It’s not enough." She crosses her arms.

"I know." I meet her gaze. "But I’m trying, Eva. Which, given my spectacular track record with actual human interaction, is pretty much a miracle."

Her lips twitch like she’s fighting a smile. Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking on my part. "You’re impossible."

"I prefer to think of it as challenging." I risk taking a small step closer. "Look, I’m terrible at this. At all of it."

This is it.

It’s time to find out if I'm capable of being more than my defenses and barriers.

Time to discover if some risks are worth taking.

Time to see if what we built in those intense days is strong enough to survive my fear of actually feeling something.

I just hope my spectacular inability to handle basic human emotion hasn't completely ruined any chance of her choosing me.