Page 65 of When Sinners Fear
The gates make the house behind it safer than I ever realised from the other side. If I had more than the clothes in my bag, I’d try to disable the alarm system or bypass the power to open the gates – it shouldn’t take too long – but then I think about Knox. Would he allow his safety to be so easily compromised? Probably not.
In my grand plan, I hadn’t envisaged that he’d be out. I rang the buzzer for over an hour on and off, and it made no difference. No one’s answering. Luckily, the temperature’s not dropped too much, and the extra clothes in my bag have been sufficient to keep me warm.
It should be terrifying – waiting for him to come home in the middle of nowhere. All my fears about the men in that room, about being taken or snatched again, could happen so easily here. My nightmares coming to life in front of me – out of the shadows. That’s not what my mind is fixated on. I needed to come back to him. At first, I fought it, but this unexplainable need had to be resolved. We’ve so many strands of thought to resolve, and this time I owe it to myself to ask the hard questions in order to help myself.
I didn’t know the address, so I directed the cab driver from memory like my subconscious had taken in everything I needed to get back to him. As a car approaches, I stand and block the way. Knox is driving, and his hands grip the wheel as he registers me. The gates begin to open, so I slip inside as they do and wait for him. He drives in but doesn’t head along the drive. He stops, leaving the engine running.
The window lowers slowly, and he stares at me for a while. “Why are you here?”
“It’s complicated,” I answer, put out by the bad mood in his voice.
“Life is,” he gruffs.
“Are you okay? You look…” I don’t want to say the wrong thing, but he looks unkempt like he had little sleep wherever he’s been.
And then I wonder who he might have been with. Another woman?
My teeth grit together, hurt rising from my gut. But I don’t have any say or ownership over him. He has the right to see whomever he chooses.
“Can we go up to the house?” I ask. “I’d like to talk, and I don’t want to do it on your driveway.” It’s not far, but to make a point, maybe, Knox rolls up his window and puts the car into drive, kicking up dirt as the wheels fight for grip against his heavy foot.
Shaking my head, I walk after him, determined to see this through.
“Was that necessary? I didn’t take you for being petty,” I shout at him as he waits at the door for me.
“What do you want, Peyton?” He sounds tired.
My hand wraps around the strap to my bag, squeezing it. “Are you going to turn me away?”
When I set about this plan, I didn’t consider that he’d push me away, but now there’s more doubt than I’d like to admit.
He looks at me with a heat behind his eyes that I remember from the other night. “No, but you need to talk. Tell me where your head's at.”
I nod and follow him inside.
“I’m going to take a shower,” he says. “At least you got some clean clothes.” He looks down at my dress, tights, and flat shoes. “Did you speak with your mother?”
“In a way.” It’s the truth. I spoke. She, with any luck, wasn’t conscious enough to listen.
He heads upstairs, and I make my way to the kitchen. Coffee is something we both may benefit from. I go through the steps, wait for the machine to spill out two cups and take them up to Knox’s room. Now that I’m back, the pull to be near him seems stronger than ever, like something has eased.
It’s not long before the shower turns off, and he comes out into the room. He stops when he sees me. The towel around his waist doesn’t hide the bandages that still litter his body. He told me not to look the other night. The one on his leg is the largest.
“Are they dry? You shouldn’t get bandages wet.”
“They’re fine.” He comes to sit next to me on the edge of the bed. His hand grazes mine, and the contact sends a jolt through me.
“Where were you last night?” I ask, suddenly desperate to hear.
His head turns, and the smoothest smile broadens. “Why?”
“Because I was out there waiting, and if you were …”
“Fucking someone?” He keeps staring at me, not giving me an inch of room to back out of what I’m asking. I look down, knowing I have no real right to ask. A chuckle falls from him, equally as smooth, and it makes me question the last time I heard a sound like that from him. The museum, probably. “I should tell you I was. That might speed up your explanation. I wasn’t, though. I was with Abel. There were things to discuss.”
“Business?” I enquire.
“What’s with all the questions?” He runs his hand up my arm before standing and picking up the cup of coffee I set down.