“It’s not just words. I believe them.”
“Why?”
“Because…my mother was abused when I was younger and I didn’t have the power to protect her. There hasn’t been a day in my life where I didn’t blame myself for being useless, but there’s one thing I don’t regret.”
Her lips part. “What?”
“Asking for help when I could, even if it was from someone who’s cold.”
“Cold like Knox?”
“Worse. But you know, people like them bring in results. They’re well aware of how jerks think and can counter them efficiently, so you’re in good hands.”
“Really? Should I trust him?”
I don’t miss the hesitation in her voice, the way she hugs herself and touches her elbows. So I don’t think twice when I say, “You should.”
“Do you trust him?”
“With anything legal? I do.”
She sniffles, so I reach into my pocket, then give her a tissue. Sandra wipes her tears and peeks at me through her long lashes. “You’ll be there during the whole trial, right?”
I gulp. Being in court means the possibility of running into someone from my previous life, and that sure as hell isn’t going to happen. “I’m from the IT department so I really shouldn’t be around.”
“Please.” She clutches my hands. “You’re the only friendly face I know. I already asked Knox and he agreed to have you on the team.”
“I’ll do whatever I can. So even if I’m not there in person, I’ll call you prior to the trial. You can also call me whenever you like.”
“Thank you.” Her eyes shine with fresh tears.
“We…should probably go back.”
Her smile falls, but she tightens her hold on my hand while we walk back to Knox’s office.
We find Lauren, Chris, and him deep in conversation about the case. They’re throwing around legal terms that I don't recognize and at such a fast pace that I can't keep up.
When they finally notice us, they halt their conversation.
Lauren smiles and Chris releases a long breath, but Knox doesn’t act the least bit relieved. If anything, he appears calm, way too calm, as if the episode didn’t happen in the first place.
His eyes meet mine for a brief second. They’re sharp and dark, as if I’m staring into the haunted soul of a completely different person.
The moment barely lasts before he slides his attention to Sandra. “We’ll resume where we left off. If you run away again, you can find yourself another attorney.”
I glare at him when she goes stiff, but he ignores me the whole time he continues to prep Sandra. His questions are still harsh, but he does pause when he sees her having a hard time.
I don’t think anyone notices, but it’s like he’s also taking a break. At first, I think I’m making things up and he’s only doing it for Sandra’s sake, but then I focus on him—like, really focus.
He’s flipping through a document, and although his movements are calm and measured, they’re longer than usual—as if he’s enduring something.
As if he’s in the midst of a crisis and he needs to remain calm for it.
His shoulders crowd with tension and his eyes are still dark, less gold, less bright. Almost as if the color has been sucked out of them.
There’s something else, too. His breathing, it’s short and clipped, and his chest rises and falls in a slightly irregular rhythm. But when he speaks next, his voice is still in that calm range, as if it’s disconnected from the rest of him.
By the time he announces we’re done for the day, everyone appears drained.
Not him.
He looks furious. Almost like he has otherworldly energy accumulating inside him and he can’t get rid of it.
Or won’t.
I want to stay behind and…do what exactly? It’s not like I can ask him what’s wrong and actually get an answer.
But I can try…right?
For some reason, it feels like he shouldn’t be alone right now; if he is, some sort of a disaster will follow.
I’m probably reading too much into it. In what world is Knox not okay? He always appears to be put-together and so perfect, I’m kind of envious.
And okay, maybe I’ve often wondered what I’d see if I reached into his armor and took a peek.
Maybe he’s not so perfect on the inside, maybe there’s a haunted, troubled part I could see for myself.
“Jane?” Sandra’s voice pulls me away from my hyperfocus on him.
“Yeah?”
“Can you walk me out?”
“Sure.” I steal one last glance at Knox, but he’s concentrating on some paperwork, so I leave without even a glimpse of his golden gaze.
Isn’t it weird that I have an unhealthy phobia of eye contact, but I crave it with him?
That should be strange.
Abnormal.
And yet, it’s all I keep thinking about for the rest of the day.
His eyes, his perturbed state.
Him.
I contemplate texting him, so I type.
Are you okay?
Then I delete the text before I send it. We’re not really on good terms, especially after yesterday’s public unprotected sex incident.
But even after I get home, I’m not looking forward to my lonely night where I’ll eat leftovers and spend the rest of my evening searching the internet for what the men in my old life are up to. I’ll be focusing over every detail and be a paranoia freak.
