Page 17 of Knox

“I couldn’t decide what to wear.” She let go of Tori’s hand and looked at Knox, pitching her voice low. “I’m really sorry I didn’t say anything.”

His gaze turned warm and sweet. “It’s not like we were sharing our deepest secrets. It’s okay. And I meant it. You took my breath away up there.”

She just didn’t know what to do with this man.

And because she’d kept the truth from him before, she came clean. “The stage seems to be one place that’s mine. It’s where life makes sense. I’m safe, and yes, things go wrong, but it doesn’t feel out of control.”

He stared at her, those eyes reaching down with something like compassion. “Kelsey, what—”

The rumble started under her feet, a split second of warning. Knox’s eyes widened, and he reached for her—

Then, the arena exploded in a blast of fire, smoke, and debris.

3

Knox felt his face to confirm that his eyes were open. Because in the pitch darkness, he couldn’t even make out his hand before his face. He hadn’t passed out—he remembered every second, almost in slow motion.

The floor had rippled, and he’d reached out to grab Kelsey, a move born of instinct as his arm curled around her.

In the same moment he looked at Tori, out of his reach, standing next to the makeup counter.

Then the boom resounded through the building, into his body, and the world emptied beneath him, simply crumbled with a great heave. He yanked Kelsey to himself even as screams lifted to mix with the thunder of the explosion.

He fell forever, clawing the air, the lights blinking out, debris raining down over him. Only his arm around Kelsey anchored him as chaos erupted. He landed hard, unable to brace himself, the air whooshing out of him.

Pain exploded through his leg, his arm, and Kelsey fell away in the ricochet of the impact.

He reached for her, but ended up pulling his legs tight to himself, his arms over his head as the debris pinged around him—metal, cement, furniture.

Smoke saturated the air, and he kept his face down, into a crack while the world careened to a stop.

Then everything was engulfed by an eerie, deep silence, as if time took a moment to simply catch its breath.

Him too. He took a gulp of dusty air, during which he heard his heart thunder in his ears.

What just happened?

Abruptly, a cacophony of sharp whinnies and groaning of stock animals erupted around him—clearly the destruction had torn into the stock pens below.

Yes, his eyes were still open. And he seemed largely unhurt, despite the bone-jarring crash. Dust embedded the hairs of his arms, clogged his nose, layered his face. He touched his chest, where his heart hammered, and tried to move.

Nothing felt broken.

He expected sparks, maybe flames with the odor of smoke, but nothing flickered against the all black, pitch darkness. It instantly swept into his pores, his bones.

Suffocating.

Only the whimpers nearby pulled him free. He reached out his hand, searching.

His grip closed around flesh, an arm. “Kelsey?”

No movement, but he did feel a pulse. He eased himself through the rubble, over cement and metal and wire, and scooted next to her. They seemed to be lying on the floor of the dressing room, but it had collapsed at an angle, so he had to climb toward her head.

He brailled his way up her arm, found her shoulder, her hair, brought his face to hers. “Kelsey, are you okay?”

A breath, harsh and fast, but she still didn’t answer.

Kelsey wasn’t the one whimpering. At least not audibly.