Page 116 of Knox
He opened the door to the roof, climbed out, and held out his hand. She hesitated only a moment, then took it and let him pull her up.
A gravel surface, filled with electrical and HVAC boxes, but beyond the edge of the roof, Vegas sprawled glittering under the black sky. Tate walked her over to the edge and then let go of her hand.
Silence edged between them. Then, “You okay, Kels?”
She took a breath, then, “Oh Tate, I…I don’t know.” She curled her hands around her waist. “I know what I did was the right thing—I can’t take your brother away from his life. But…I…”
“What if?”
She looked at him and slowly nodded.
“Yeah, I know,” he said quietly.
She sighed. “He accused me of hiding inside the person I am onstage…and maybe he was right. I know this world.”
“But you wanted the other one.”
“I don’t know. I…I think I just wanted…” She sighed. “It doesn’t matter.”
Tate stood beside her, saying nothing, and just his presence made her ache for Knox.
“Knox used to drive me crazy. We’d be out riding fence, hours and hours of mundane work in the spring, looking for breaks in the barbed wire, and I’d just…I’d want to go home. I hated every minute of it, but Knox—no, when you rode fence with Knox, you rode to the bitter end. You checked every cotton-pickin’ inch of that fencing because he refused to be the guy who let one of our cows get hurt or wander off our land.” He shook his head. “Knox is the guy who gets it right.”
“Safe. Nice. He even called himself boring.”
“Oh, Knox is not boring. He wanted to be a bull rider, but my dad said he had to learn how bulls think, too, so he made him be a clown for a while.”
“A clown?”
“Yeah. They distract the bull after the rider is bucked off. It’s dangerous, but Knox…he was crazy good at it. He could read a bull, tell which way it would go, taunt it, then run the other direction. He’d pull the bull rope and play with the animal, herding the animal right into the pen like it was coming home for dinner. And then he’d work the audience for the next cowboy. Everybody loved Knox the rodeo clown.”
“I can’t even imagine him doing that.”
Tate lifted a shoulder. “He gave it up when he started seriously riding bulls—mostly did the clowning for local rodeos. But it’s still in him—the desire to protect. Only now he channels it into the ranch.”
And, toward her.
She looked away, nodded. “I’ve never felt so…safe as when I was with Knox.”
“I’ll try not to take that as a criticism.”
She laughed. “No, I mean…he just…he has a way of looking at me. And yeah, he has those eyes…that…well, they’re a little dangerous…”
He glanced at her, but she didn’t meet his eyes.
“But he also calms the churning inside,” she said softly. “Something came back to life inside me when I was with him. He made me believe that maybe…maybe I didn’t have to be afraid all the time.”
“‘Lead me to the towering rock of safety, for you are my safe refuge.’”
She glanced at him. “Your mom said that.”
“It’s one of her favorite psalms. She said that you always have to look for the high places to get a different view and for a firm place to stand.” He glanced down at her. “Of course, Ma always means Jesus, but I suppose it could work for Knox too. He’s a pretty big guy.”
Tate’s words wove through her, settled, and in their wake, she heard Gerri.
It’s how God shows us He loves us too—through the way we reach out and hold on to each other.
Like Knox had held on to her.