Page 40 of Twin Babies for the Silver Fox (Happy Ever Alpha Daddies #3)

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Knox

Sleep’s a joke these days.

When it comes, it’s not the kind that heals. It’s the kind that claws at you. That drags you under in flashes of bare skin and soft moans and sheets tangled around Josie’s legs. Her mouth finds mine like it still means something. Like I didn’t destroy it all with a single look.

I wake up breathless, hard, aching.

Angry.

Every damn time.

Food doesn’t do much better. I’ve pushed three plates away in as many days. Nothing tastes right. Not without her stealing bites off my fork or licking sauce off her finger with that distracted little hum that used to short-circuit my brain.

She hasn’t been back since the night in the pantry.

The night she told me she was pregnant.

I brace my elbows on the prep counter and drag both hands down my face. The restaurant’s quiet in the worst way, hollow. Like it knows she’s gone too. No humming. No bad pop songs on the speakers. I killed the playlists entirely. Her silence is louder than anything.

I see her face every time I close my eyes. That moment loops like a punishment. Josie standing there, raw and shaking and still trying to be brave. And me? Standing there like a damn statue. Giving her nothing. Worse than nothing.

She looked like I’d slapped her.

No, like I’d cracked her wide open.

And maybe I did.

I’ve been lied to. Broken. Played. Savannah taught me all about betrayal. But Josie? She never asked me for anything. Not once. Not even when she should have.

She told me because she thought I deserved to know.

And I gave her suspicion instead of trust.

That’s what guts me the most.

She saw things in me no one else ever looked for. She let me in. And when she needed me to show up, I backed away. Shut down. Hurt her.

Shit, what the hell is wrong with me?

I should’ve gone after her. Should’ve said something. Anything. Instead, I just stood there, frozen and fucked up while she walked away.

I tried reaching out to her as soon as the shock wore off, but she didn’t want to pick up any of my calls. All my texts have been ghosted, too.

What I really need is to see her face to face, so I can make her understand that I really understand how messed up my reaction was.

So I can make it right.

I glance toward the back door, half expecting to see her silhouette appear there, apron dusty with flour, some smart ass comment on her lips. My chest pulls tight.

But the door stays shut. It has for days.

The buzz of my phone breaks the quiet. I fumble for it.

Not her.

Just a supplier with a shipping delay.

I drop it face down on the counter and stare at the burnished steel surface until my own reflection stares back. I barely recognize the guy looking back. Red rimmed eyes, five-day scruff, a fading bruise under one from smacking into a cabinet I didn’t see coming.

I barely recognize myself.

The door creaks open. My pulse jumps.

But it’s just the produce guy.

“Drop it in the walk-in,” I mutter. My voice sounds like sandpaper.

I drop onto a barstool. All I can think about is Josie kissing me slow, confident, hungry. She tasted like heat and honey and all the things I didn’t know I needed until she gave them to me. I can still feel her in my hands.

Now all I feel is regret.

And Savannah?

She’s still everywhere. She doesn’t even care about being banned from The Marrow.

She showed up at my house this morning.

“Just checking in, babe,” she said, sunglasses pushed up, smile too perfect to be real. “Thought we could make breakfast for the paps. Show them what happy looks like.”

I shut the door in her face.

But not before she whispered, “You know what happens if you don’t play nice.”

The threat wasn’t loud. Didn’t need to be.

She’s got enough dirt, enough twisted angles, enough media clout to make a mess I can’t sweep up, not without hurting people who don’t deserve it.

Like Josie.

She’s been posting nonstop since.

Photos of us. Reels. Captions that make my skin crawl.

Sometimes old flames burn brighter the second time around #BackTogether #KnightlyEverAfter

She’s building a whole fantasy online like Josie never existed.

Like we never existed.

I’ve told her to stop. I’ve warned her. Hell, I’ve threatened legal action. But Savannah doesn’t listen, she escalates.

My phone buzzes again. Another tag. Another post. Another lie.

I open it before I can stop myself. It’s a video. Savannah and I at some black-tie thing I barely remember showing up to years ago. The caption says something about “strong couples weathering storms” and “choosing love.”

I grip the edge of the bar, knuckles white.

The comments roll in. Hearts, congratulations, people begging for a wedding date. Some reporter’s even asking for a quote.

She’s loving every damn second of it.

And me?

I’m sitting in this empty restaurant, watching a woman I don’t want rewrite my story, while the only woman I do want is nowhere to be found.

Nova finally storms in from the office, waving her iPad like a sword. “You see this crap she posted?”

“Yeah,” I mutter. “I’ve seen all of it.”

“She’s turning this whole thing into a damn PR stunt. You know that, right? Damn, isn’t it enough that she isn’t allowed in The Marrow anymore!”

“I know.”

Nova leans on the counter, narrowing her eyes at me. “You want me to put out a statement? Shut it down officially?”

“I don’t know,” I say. “Should I post something? I hate this shit, but maybe if I say something, people will get the message.”

She watches me for a second. Then sighs. “Let me figure out the best angle. We’ll hit back smarter than this tabloid trash. But yeah, she’s gotta go. She’s poison, Knox. This is getting out of hand. No more time to think , okay? It’s time for action.”

I nod, but I already knew that.

I just didn’t realize how badly she’d tainted everything until Josie was gone.

The back door swings open again.

This time, it’s not the produce guy.

It’s Gracie.

She walks in like a shadow, quiet, head down, a reusable shopping tote looped over one arm, her other hand gripping a paper coffee cup so tight the lid crinkles. Her ponytail’s crooked. No makeup. She looks like she hasn’t slept either.

I push off the barstool.

“Gracie,” I say, my voice cracking slightly from disuse. “Where’s Josie?”

She doesn’t stop. Heads straight for the fridge like I’m not even there.

“Please,” I add, moving toward her. “Is she okay? Can you just tell me where she is?”

She pauses. Doesn’t turn around. Just stiffens, like she’s bracing for something. Then she exhales ever so slowly.

“She’s not coming back.”

The words hit me harder than I’m ready for. “What?”

“She’s not coming back to work here, Knox,” Gracie repeats, voice clipped and cold. “That’s all I know.”

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “That’s not… I mean, is she okay? Is she in Silver Peak? Can I talk to her?”

Gracie finally turns, and her expression is ice.

“She doesn’t want to talk to you.”

That shouldn’t surprise me. It still does.

“I just want to explain?—”

Gracie cuts me off. “Don’t.”

I swallow hard. “Is she leaving town?”

She lifts a brow. “If she is, she hasn’t told me.”

“But you’re her friend,” I press. “You’d know if she was planning something.”

She stares at me for a long beat. “Knox, whatever you’re trying to dig out of me, it’s not gonna happen. I’m not getting in the middle of this.”

I run a hand through my hair, frustration simmering just under the surface. “I just need a chance to fix it.”

“Then maybe you should’ve thought about that before you let her walk out of here crying.”

That shuts me up.

Fuck .

I have to do something.

I can’t hide away anymore.

Waiting, biding my time. It just isn’t working.

I grab my keys off the counter and head straight for the door, ignoring Gracie’s warnings that she doesn’t want to see me.

If she’s not coming back to me, then I’ll go to her.

The Timberline Inn lobby is warm and quiet, all polished wood and flickering lamps. A fire crackles in the stone hearth, not that it does anything to calm down the pounding of my heart.

“Dee?”

She’s behind the counter, tapping something into the computer. She looks up the second the bell over the door chimes… and I see it in her eyes before she says a word.

She straightens, arms crossing over her chest. “No.”

That’s it. One word.

I slow my steps, hands raised slightly. “Dee, please. I just want to talk to her.”

“She doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“I only need five minutes.”

“She doesn’t want five seconds.” Dee’s voice stays calm, but there’s steel under it. “You need to leave. Now. ”

“She won’t even let me explain?”

“You had your chance, Knox. You made your choice. Now you have to live with it.”

My jaw flexes, teeth grinding. “I know I messed up. I froze. But I swear, I never meant to hurt her. I love…”

I cut off before I say it again. Like saying it louder will fix everything.

Dee’s eyes narrow. “Then love her enough to back off. Give her time. Give her the space to breathe. She’s not okay, and you being here isn’t helping.”

The worst part is, I’m sure she’s not wrong.

My heart is screaming at me to keep pushing. To make Josie hear me.

But the smarter part of me knows I can’t force this.

Especially with Savannah still loitering like a bad smell.

I take a step back. Then another. My throat’s tight, like something vital is stuck there.

“Just…” I swallow. “Tell her I came.”

Dee nods once, arms still crossed like a barrier. “She’ll know. But don’t come here again. Not unless she asks.”

I don’t say another word.

I turn and walk out the door into the cold night, my footsteps echoing on the wooden steps like a countdown.

This isn’t how I wanted it to go.

But this time, I showed up.

And next time, if I’m lucky enough to get one, I’ll be ready to fight for her the right way.

It’s almost 2 a.m. The place is dark except for the dim light over the prep station and the low hum of the fridge compressors. The restaurant’s never felt this empty. Like even the walls know something’s missing.

Tuck trots in ahead of me, nails clicking on the tile, sniffing every corner like it’s his job. His tail wags once, halfheartedly, then drops again. He’s been like this ever since Josie left... restless. Unsettled.

Like he knows, too.

“I need to grab my tablet,” I murmur to him as I lock the door behind us. “Won’t be long.”

He disappears down the back hallway before I can stop him, nose low, tail stiff.

“Tuck?” I call after him, but my voice barely carries. Everything feels muted.

I grab the tablet from the office, but when I step back into the hall, I hear a soft whine.

Not the hurt kind. The searching kind.

The staff room door is cracked open. I follow the sound.

And then I see him.

Tuck’s planted himself in front of one of the lockers. Her locker. His nose is pressed against the metal like he’s trying to find her scent. He whines again, soft and low, then sits down, front paws neatly together, head tilted up at the door like he’s waiting for it to open on its own.

He doesn’t even notice me walking in.

Damn.

I crouch beside him slowly, heart squeezing tight.

“She’s not here, buddy,” I whisper.

He glances at me, then back at the locker. Nudges it with his snout.

“I know, I miss her too.”

Tuck lowers his head to his paws, ears drooping. He stays there. Settled in like he’s not going anywhere.

I rest a hand on his back, fingers curling into his fur. He’s warm and solid under my palm. Familiar. Loyal.

He didn’t understand what happened that night. Didn’t see the look on her face when I didn’t say anything. Didn’t hear the silence that stretched between us until it snapped.

But he knows she’s gone.

And maybe, in some dumb, instinctive way, he blames me too.

I let out a shaky breath and lean against the row of lockers beside him.

Tuck makes a small sound, almost a sigh, and lays his head against the floor.

“I don’t know how to fix it,” I whisper. “Buddy, I don’t know if I can.”

The silence answers.

Tuck doesn’t move.

So I stay there beside him. In front of her locker. In the dim light of a restaurant that doesn’t feel like mine anymore.

And for once, I don’t try to fix anything.

I sit in the stillness.

And miss her.