Page 22

CHAPTER 22

KNOX

“Are you sure you’ll be okay if I leave for an hour?”

I know I’m on the verge of sounding like a parrot, but I can’t help it. Every time I think about leaving Lark’s side for even a few minutes—to shovel off the front path or drive down to the road to get the mail—my chest gets tight and my stomach twists into a knot. When I went outside yesterday morning to clear the snow off the edges of the roof, it took me almost half an hour, and by the time I came back inside, I was in a full-on panic, convinced something was wrong with Lark.

She was fine.

But my brain kept racing to irrational, terrified places. Despite the doctors’ reassurances and Lark’s steady improvement, I couldn’t stop myself from imagining the worst. Lark unconscious in the kitchen after an unnoticed aneurysm burst. Lark crumpled on the floor of the shower after the heat became too much for her. Or Lark sobbing, hyperventilating, battling through a panic attack alone.

“It’s normal,” Enzo assured me this morning, when he called to check on her. I admitted how hard it was to leave her, and how much I’m dreading going back to work next week. “I felt the same way,” he said, “after everything with Winter. But we’ve got your six, Knox. Lark can stay at my place when you’re on a job site. I’ll be around, and so will Winter. Not that anything will happen to Lark, but I think it’ll make both of you feel better.”

While my preference would be to keep Lark with me all the time, that’s not exactly realistic. She’s going to want to go back to work eventually, and I have a crew of guys relying on me. Not to mention jobs lined up through next summer, and if I want to keep my business afloat, I kind of need to be there to make sure everything gets done.

Rationally, I know it’ll get better. In time, the terrible memories—Lark missing, hurt, so scared as I pulled her out of that trunk—will fade, and it won’t hurt as much to leave her.

It’ll never be easy, though. And I’ll never completely forget.

The protectiveness I felt toward Lark after the break-in at her house has only been magnified tenfold. I would do literally anything to make sure she’s safe.

I still wonder if I made the right choice leaving Ed alive. He’s in jail, awaiting trial, and there’s zero chance of him getting off. Not with Lark’s statement detailing how he kidnapped her, threatened to kill her, and knocked her out with his gun. And not with the evidence Alec found linking Ed to the earlier attempt on her life.

That should be enough. Logically, I know it is. But in my gut? Knowing what he did to the woman I love? Part of me wishes I’d killed him.

“Knox. I told you, I’ll be fine.” Lark adjusts my jacket collar, smiling as she adds, “Like you said, it’s only an hour. I’ll barely notice you’re gone.”

“Ouch.” I make a mock-hurt face at her. “You’re not going to miss me?”

“Of course I will. But I’ll be busy. I have some presents to wrap, and I want to text Kate. Plus, I have a few emails to send for work.”

Worry tinges my tone. “Are you sure you should be doing all that already?”

“Yes.” She smoothes out the line I know is etched across my forehead. “I looked it up. Some light physical and brain activities are good a few days after a concussion. I won’t push it. I promise.”

Lark looks up at me, a hopeful expression on her face. “And since you’re going into town, maybe you could pick up some more wrapping paper? When I checked our supply?—”

“We have a supply of wrapping paper?”

“Of course. Not just paper. We have gift bags and bows and tags. Oh, and tissue paper. I think we need more of that, too. Christmassy colors, if you can get them.”

“Okay.” Framing her face, I lower my lips to hers, taking them in a slow and tender kiss. “Wrapping paper and tissue paper. In red and green.”

“Gold, too. And silver. ”

“Got it.” I kiss her again. “Do you want me to stop into Decadent Delights for some cookies? Since I’ll be right next door at Breakfast Bliss?”

I wouldn’t be leaving the house at all if not for the upcoming reno there. But Marty, the owner of Breakfast Bliss, just called me yesterday asking if we could redo the dining area, too. Since we’re supposed to start the week after Christmas, I need to get in there and take some measurements now, so I can get the supplies on order.

“Some cookies would be nice.” Lark gives me that incredible, dragon-slaying smile. And for a second, all I can do is stare at her, memorizing each perfect detail. The spray of freckles that I love so much. Her bow-shaped lips, rosy from our kisses. The love shining in her eyes.

“Okay, songbird.” I trace a little constellation of freckles on her cheek. “Wrapping paper. Tissue paper. Cookies. Anything else?”

“Nope.” She pops the P as she grins at me. “Sounds perfect. Now go. Stop stalling. I’ll be fine. And as soon as you get back, we can have lunch and watch that new Hallmark movie.”

“Wait. There’s another new one?”

“Of course.” Lark takes my hand and leads me to the front door. “The week before Christmas, there’s a new one each day. Plus, there’s more than one Hallmark channel, so some nights, there are two or three.”

Oh. Who knew Christmas Hallmark movies were such a big thing?

“Okay. We’ll watch it when I get back.” Hand on the doorknob, I pause to give her one more kiss. “Love you, songbird.”

“Knox.” She softens. “I love you, too.”

As the door closes behind me, pain spears through my chest, digging a little deeper with each step.

She’s fine , I keep telling myself as the worry settles in. Ronan checked Lark last night, and he said she’s recovering nicely. That she should be back to normal in no time.

She’s fine . We have a state-of-the-art security system. No one is getting into the house without me or Lark inviting them in.

She’s fine. A little anxious and jumpy, which is to be expected. And every night, there’s at least one nightmare. But Lark’s talking to her counselor. She’s talking to me. Considering what she went through, she’s holding up incredibly well.

Still. It hurts to leave her.

To distract myself, I run through the list of presents I bought Lark, wondering if there’s anything I left out. If there’s something special I forgot.

I may have gone a little overboard with gifts this year, but once I started shopping, it was hard to stop. So I have mountains of presents stashed at my house waiting to be wrapped—practical things like mittens and hats and a new winter coat, and fun things like an upgraded Kindle and a stack of new books.

And then the big gift, the one I really, really hope she’ll like.

Not a ring, though I’ve thought about it at least a hundred times. I’ve even stopped into the jewelry store on several occasions and on the last visit, I put a deposit down on a ring—something called a cushion cut diamond with tiny emeralds on each side.

If the circumstances were different, I’d propose now. Or, rather, on Christmas, since I know Lark would love it. But with her concussion, and the trauma she endured just a few days ago, it doesn’t feel like the right time. My heart says, go for it , but logic tells me to wait until things settle down.

So I’ll wait. Give Lark the chance to come to terms with everything that happened. And in the meantime, I came up with a gift I think she’ll love—a hidden library, just like we talked about weeks ago.

It’s not built yet, obviously. It would be a little hard to start major construction in Lark’s house without her noticing. But I have all the plans drawn up, plus samples of wood for the shelves and fabric swatches for the furniture, and a 3D rendering of how the room will look when it’s done.

I think it’s a good idea. When Niall called the other day, I asked him what he thought. His fiancée, Jade, is a book lover, so he asked her. A minute later, he came back, laughing. “Well. Now Jade wants me to build her a hidden library in our apartment. So I’d say she approves.”

Shit. I’ve never felt this excited about the future before. Optimistic, yes. But with Lark, I can see the months and years laid out in front of us—vacations and holidays and cheering on each other’s victories, and one day, starting our own little family. Building on to Lark’s cabin so there’s room for however many kids we decide to have. Spending our lives together.

I’m reminded of something Tom said last week, when I called to tell him about everything that’s happened over the last few months. A smile in his voice, he said, “Knox, I just had a feeling coming back here was the right thing for you. I know you have some bad memories from this place, but now’s the time to make new ones. Better ones. And make sure the guest room is all set up, because once the snow melts, I’m coming to visit. I can’t wait to meet Lark.”

I can’t wait, either. All my friends are going to love her. And if they give me shit about falling in love and getting engaged, I’m more than okay with it.

As I pass the sign that reads Bliss - 5 miles , I belatedly realize I haven’t worried about Lark in… at least five minutes. Which is progress.

I’ll still text her when I get to Bliss, though. Not because I’m worried. Just to check in.

After all, I need to know what kind of cookies she wants. Make sure there’s not something else she needs me to pick up at the store. We could be out of eggnog, which I’ve learned is an absolute necessity on Christmas. Or we might?—

A blaring sound fills the car.

For just a second, I think it’s a police car with its sirens on, racing to an emergency.

For just a moment, I let myself believe it.

Just as quickly, reality crashes into me.

Not the police.

It’s my phone. Sounding an alarm.

My foot comes off the accelerator, and I come to a stop in the middle of the road.

My muscles won’t seem to work.

No .

It can’t be.

Lark’s supposed to be safe.

She’s not supposed to be signaling me for help again.

A car comes up behind me, honking furiously as I fumble for my phone.

Like I’m moving through a fog, I manage to pull off to the side of the road.

I jab at the screen, my heart about to burst out of my chest.

First the tracking app, where Lark’s little dot is still at home, flashing a violent red.

Then I open the security app, and in the seconds it takes to load, all my worst nightmares fly through my head. Brain injuries. Complications. A fall down the stairs.

Or. Could Ed have escaped from jail? Is there someone working with him that everyone missed? Another killer, this time sent after Lark in some horrible attempt at revenge?

Fuck. Why did I leave her?

I knew I shouldn’t. I knew it .

Fuck.

The first video feed I check is the one at the front door. Everything looks just as it did when I left.

Then I check the camera positioned over the garage. Still nothing unusual.

But something is wrong.

A weight is pressing down on my chest. Every breath is a struggle.

With a trembling finger, I scroll back to watch the footage.

At first, it doesn’t seem alarming .

A woman walks up the driveway, her car nowhere in view. She’s older, gray-haired and slightly plump, dressed in a bulky coat and calf-high boots. In one hand, she holds a clipboard, the other clutches the strap of her bag.

She walks up to the front door and rings the doorbell. Maybe thirty seconds later, Lark opens the door with a smile. They chat briefly, the older woman holding out her clipboard for Lark to look at.

It looks normal. Like a woman coming around asking for donations or to get signatures for a political campaign.

Could Lark have triggered her necklace by accident?

Then.

A second later, I know she didn’t.

While Lark is studying the clipboard, the gray-haired woman reaches into her bag and pulls out a gun.

Points it at Lark.

The woman’s face contorts, transforming from friendly to enraged.

FUCK.

Lark freezes. Even on the tiny display, I can see the terror in her eyes.

Her gun only inches from Lark’s chest, the woman pushes her way inside, forcing Lark along with her.

The door shuts.

Fear explodes inside me.

Fuck. Fuck.

I can’t see anything else.

Why didn’t we install cameras inside?

Because we didn’t think it was necessary. With all the exterior cameras and alarms and motion sensors, there’s no way for anyone to break in without triggering them. We never thought a threat would walk right up to the front door and ring the doorbell. That this unknown person—I’ve never seen her in my life—would look so unassuming. So harmless.

Shit. I need to get home. Now.

As I pull back onto the road, I dial Lark’s number, desperately hoping for a miracle. That she’ll answer, telling me it was some crazy joke. That my eyes were playing tricks on me. That she’s not actually in terrible danger.

But she doesn’t answer. Not the first time, or the second, or third.

Panic claws at me, tearing bleeding ribbons inside my chest.

The guilt is suffocating.

I press the gas pedal to the floor, blowing past the speed limit.

But I’m ten minutes from home. Ten minutes away from Lark.

In ten minutes, anything could happen.

I could lose the woman I love.

Panicked, closer to losing it than I’ve ever been, I call Enzo. The moment he picks up, I bark, “There’s someone at Lark’s. A woman. She pulled a gun. I’m ten minutes out. I need backup.”

There’s a stunned silence, and then a clipped, “On it. I’ll call the police. Gage is here. We’re on our way.”

There’s nothing else for me to say. Enzo’s further away than me. By the time he gets there, it?—

Fuck.

I need to go faster .

The trees are a blur as I fly past them. A pickup truck is puttering ahead, and I speed around it, earning an indignant horn blast as I pass.

With each mile, the terror in me grows bigger.

A yawning emptiness threatens. My life without Lark. I can’t lose her. Not now. I can’t.

When I finally hit the driveway, I nearly go up on two wheels turning into it, my tires squealing loudly. My heart is pounding in frantic drumbeats, echoing in my head.

The truck is still rocking when I jump out and sprint toward the house. My Sig is in hard, safety off and ready to fire.

Just as I leap onto the porch, my phone rings. But I can’t answer. Not now.

As I turn the doorknob, a tiny, desperate voice in my head whispers, please. Please. Let her be okay.

And then.

I burst inside.

Scarcely breathing.

Praying for the first time in my life.

“Knox!” Lark jumps up from the couch and rushes over to me.

Still on the couch, the older woman is hunched over, crying. The gun is nowhere to be seen.

I lower my gun as Lark slams into me, and my arms come around her instinctively. Hugging her to me. Holding her. Never letting her go.

“Knox, I tried to call you,” Lark says, her voice wobbling.

I try to speak, but nothing comes out.

Wait . Is she okay? Hurt ?

Holding Lark away from me, I inspect her from head to toe.

“I’m okay,” she says. “I’m not hurt. I’m okay.”

The relief is so great, I almost fall to my knees.

But.

The woman. The gun.

A growl rumbles in my chest as I move Lark behind me and take aim at the woman. “Don’t fucking move.”

“It’s okay, Knox.” Lark comes to my side and touches my arm. “I put the gun away. It’s in the office. Unloaded. Mrs. Vinnetti isn’t going to hurt anyone.”

What?

“I’m so sorry,” the woman— Mrs. Vinnetti? —cries. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. I just—” She buries her face in her hands. “I miss him. Ivan wasn’t always like that. He was a good boy. He didn’t?—”

And she dissolves into sobs.

“I talked her down,” Lark says quietly, drawing my gaze. “She showed up asking for donations. I didn’t even think. Then she pulled out a gun…”

She shudders, and I pull her against my chest with one arm, still keeping my eye on the other woman in case she tries anything.

“She was upset,” Lark continues. “With it being Christmas, and her son gone… Well. She blamed me. But I told her what happened. About Ed. And we think Ed took advantage of Ivan.” In a low tone, Lark adds, “Paula said that Ivan struggled with drugs. Gambling. If he was in trouble and Ed?—”

I almost crack my molars. “He tried to kill you,” I bite out.

“I know. But that’s not Paula’s—Mrs. Vinnetti’s fault. I think she just… snapped. She lives alone, her husband is gone, and now with her son…”

It’s hard to believe what I’m hearing. After what this woman did, Lark is defending her.

Then again. I shouldn’t be surprised that my incredible, sweet, brave songbird would see the best in everyone.

“I’m so sorry,” Mrs. Vinnetti repeats, her voice hoarse from crying. “I was wrong. I should never have done that.” She pauses and looks across the room at Lark. “I’m so sorry, Lark. And I’m sorry for what Ivan did.”

“It’s okay,” Lark replies. “We’ll figure this out.”

I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from vehemently disagreeing. Nothing in this fucked up situation is okay.

Through the open front door, the sound of sirens approaches. An engine roars closer.

Several seconds later, Enzo and Gage come racing inside with guns drawn.

“It’s okay!” Lark calls to them. “Everything is over.”

Enzo shoots me a confused look. “Um. Knox. I thought this was an emergency?”

Gage eyeballs Mrs. Vinnetti with suspicion. “Is this the woman with the gun?”

“The gun is in the office, apparently,” I tell them. “Could one of you affirm? And the other stay on Mrs. Vinnetti until the police arrive?”

Lark tugs at my arm. “She’s not a danger anymore.” Then she whispers to me, “I want to help get her into treatment. Not jail. She just needs help. ”

“Maybe she’s not a threat,” I reply tightly. “ But I’d prefer to be sure.”

“I’m okay, Knox.” Her eyes meet mine, and I can see the fear still lingering in her gaze. “I’m sorry I scared you. I didn’t know at first. I thought…”

Fuck. My heart is still racing.

“Sweetheart, I know.” I press my lips to her forehead. “I’m just glad you’re—” My voice catches. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“I’m okay,” she whispers. “It was scary. But I’m okay.”

Fuck. I could have lost her.

With Gage standing guard over Mrs. Vinnetti, I slide the Sig into my waistband. Then I gather Lark into my arms and breathe in her soft scent, my eyes burning with unshed tears. “You scared me, too,” I admit. “But you were so brave. And I’m so proud of you.”

She tilts her head back to look at me. “I didn’t feel brave. But I knew you’d come.”

I never believed in miracles before.

I thought they were just something people made up to explain the unexplainable.

But right now, holding the woman I love in my arms, I know miracles are real.

“I’ll always come for you, songbird.”

“I know.” Lark snuggles into me, tucking her head beneath my chin. “I love you, Knox.”

Oh.

As more cars pull up outside, sirens still blaring, I bury my face in Lark’s silky hair.

My eyes go damp.

“I love you, Lark. With all my heart.”