“Soft chin? They have the same chin. They’re i-den-ti-cal,” Riley scoffs.
Knox shakes his head and turns to me. “It’s freaky how you can tell.”
I don’t get how it’s so weird. They’re clearly two different people. Riley scrolls through more photos. There are dozens of shots with Knox and his brother—smiling, goofing around, play fighting. Several with their parents. It’s clear their family is a loving one. At Knox’s urging, Riley pulls out her phone and shows us pictures of her two younger brothers and her parents, who look almost young enough to be her siblings.
“They were teenagers when they had me,” Riley explains. “They’re only thirty-eight now. Mom says it’s weird because most of her peers just now have kids, and they’re almost empty nesters.”
“You have a gorgeous family, Riles.” I don’t even bother to hide my envy.
“Thanks. We don’t have a lot, but we’ve got each other.” She shrugs, a little embarrassed. “Trite but true.”
They both look at me as if I’m going to whip out my phone and show off my little family album, but there wouldn’t be any pictures of me and my parents in them. The only ones I keep are those of Jack and me.
I wipe my mouth. “I’m done for the night. Thanks for the food, Knox.”
“No problem,” he says easily. Rising, he helps me clear the plates. Riley tidies up what few leftovers we have and then disappears into her bedroom. Knox dries while I wash.
“Didn’t want to share any pictures of your own?” Knox asks quietly.
I hesitate because my family isn’t like Riley or Knox’s. My first inclination is to shut him down, but I know he doesn’t deserve that. “My dad is the type that if Jack won the Heisman, he'd wonder why Jack didn't get more votes.”
Knox keeps drying. “And you? What would he think of you?”
“He doesn’t.” I brace my hands on the edge of the kitchen sink, not enjoying the feelings that Knox’s questions dredge up. “My dad was this great college player. He had these dreams of going pro, but he literally could never make the cut. With Jack, he gets to live out his dream again. With me?”
I push away from the sink and turn to face Knox. He gazes at me with steady compassion, but no pity. I’m grateful for that because I think I would have kicked him out if he felt sorry for me. “When he had Jack, he thought he’d get to mold him into this awesome player, but Jack didn’t grow until like the tenth grade. He looked short and skinny. I wanted my dad to be proud of me so I played, too.”
“Did that win his approval?”
I make a face. “Of course not. I was still a girl. We both knew I’d never play on a real football team. But I played flag football with the boys until eighth grade.” My scar itches as I remember the hit. “A guy rammed into me and shattered my knee cap. It was an accident, but that was it for me and sports.” Until I started playing softball which is why Jack worries.
Knox makes a sound in the back of his throat. “What’d your parents do?”
I swallow to get rid of the bitterness so I don’t sound like shrew. “They weren’t there. Another parent called the ambulance. Jack held my hand on the way to the hospital and helped take care of me after.” I stop abruptly because the pain of the remembered rejection feels raw. I don’t want to cry. Not over my parents and definitely not in front of Knox.
Without any more questions, he empties the water, and drapes the towel over the side of the sink. He picks up the shirt he took off and then wraps his hand around mine. Silently, he leads me into the bedroom.
In the dark of the room, he pulls off the T-shirt I’m wearing and tugs his own over my head. The shirt smells of Knox—like fresh dirt, energy, and warmth. He kicks off his shorts and climbs into the bed, scooting all the way to the wall.
“Come in here. I’m cold,” he says.
I move like a robot. When he’s done tucking himself around me, he kisses the side of my throat, my ear, and then my temple—a trail of sweet affection that begins to thaw the cold that had settled in when I think of my parents.
“We don’t get to pick the family we’re born into,” he says into the quiet night. “But we do get to choose the family we live with. I choose you. You’re all that I’ll ever want.”
My throat closes up. The words I’d love to say back get choked by my fear.
“Shh,” he whispers. He lays his broad hand over my left chest. “You don’t need to say anything, baby. I can hear your heart.”
That’s enough for him.
I fall asleep wrapped in the embrace of someone I couldn’t even dream of having—not in a million years. I never imagined someone like Knox Masters existed. Or that he might love me. But if he knew what I did for Jack? How it could jeopardize their whole season and the pursuit of the championship?
He wouldn’t want to hold me at all.
25
Knox
Game Day: Warriors 2-0