To the Stars (Thatch #2)

“Harlow!” he barked as I turned and walked quickly toward the door. “Harlow, stop!” he begged when we were outside.

I didn’t stop until I got to my car, and then it was only to pause to open the door—but the pause was long enough. One of Knox’s arms wrapped around my waist, and I bit back a cry of pain as he turned me, his other hand coming up to cup my cheek. A motion so familiar with him that tears began stinging my eyes again as I realized I felt whole for the first time in too long. But I couldn’t stand here like this with him. Someone might see, and it could get back to Collin. I started moving away, but paused when he spoke again.

“If you think anything about you could ever repulse me, you’re wrong,” he growled. “I am terrified by what I see in front of me right now. When I look at you, I can’t find the feisty girl whose blue eyes held so much fire for life. I want to know what’s happened to make you look like this and I want to fix it—but not once has anything close to repulsion crossed my mind.” His thumb brushed against my cheek when a lone tear fell out, and when he spoke again, his voice was soft. “You’re still beautiful, Harlow. And seeing you today, right now, I know I’m still as in love with you as I was four and a half years ago.”

“You can’t say that to me, Knox,” I whispered, and looked around the parking lot to make sure no one was around. “I’m married; you can’t just say the things you’ve said to me today. And you can’t touch me anymore.”

Acceptance and hurt settled over his features, and he nodded once, but his hands never moved. “Why did you start crying when you saw me?”

“I told you, I never thought I would see you again.”

“That—” He paused and blew out a harsh breath. “That was not a normal reaction to have only for you to be pushing me away the way you are now. My number never changed; you could have called if you missed me that bad.”

I dropped my head and bit my tongue for the umpteenth time since seeing him in the coffee shop. It would be so easy. So easy to tell him everything—and it would be hazardous on levels I couldn’t even begin to comprehend.

Dipping his head down low, he spoke directly into my ear. “I’m sorry, but you were always supposed to be mine. After all this time it was hard to keep my mouth shut.” He released me and took a step back, and paused for only a second before he turned and walked away from me.

I didn’t look up to watch him walk away. I couldn’t. This was right, this was the way it had to be—but I knew if I watched him leave me now, I would break. And for the safety of my family, I couldn’t afford to break right now.





Chapter 6


Knox

Present Day—Thatch

I QUICKLY PACED the length of our living room as I replayed my entire conversation with Harlow over and over again. Part of me thought I was so tired from this last shift that I’d made the entire thing up; the rest knew there was no way it wasn’t real. She was there, in front of me . . . my girl, my world. She’d looked just as beautiful as I remembered, and at the same time, she’d looked too thin and sick. She was married, and to top it all off, she’d been living just twenty minutes from me for years, and I’d been fucking clueless.

Resting my fists on my hips, I turned in tight circles as my breathing got rougher, and finally let out a loud roar of frustration.

Of course I’d expected her to get married. It’d been more than four and a half years, and she’d made it clear that she didn’t choose me. I just never expected to have to know about it, or to have to see another man’s ring on her finger. That fucking ridiculous, massive ring.

I was still pacing and getting more frustrated by the minute when Deacon came home sometime later and immediately went into his room, and still later when Graham got home from work. It took me at least a minute to realize that he was standing there watching me, and I finally stopped pacing long enough to stare back at him.

“Yeah?” I asked when he didn’t say anything.

His gaze dropped to the floor, then narrowed when it met mine again. “There a reason you’re trying to murder the carpet?”

Yes. And the thought had me pacing again as I fought with myself to only force out a simple “Nope.”

Another minute later, I heard Grey ask, “What happened? Why is he pacing?”

I started to dismiss her questions, but before I could even understand my movements, I was turning around to grab her arm. With barely a nod in Jagger’s direction, I pulled Grey behind me toward my room.

“Hello to you, too,” she mumbled.

“What the hell?” Graham barked from the entryway, then asked Jagger, “You’re just going to let him take her to his room?”

I didn’t hear Jagger’s response, but I’d only had Grey seated on the edge of my bed and had been pacing again for about twenty seconds before Jagger slowly walked in.

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