Page 217 of Cross Checked
Knox pushed away from the window, and the room shifted with him because he had that cop thing down, the kind of authority that made people brace even when he was trying to be gentle. “Campus security has been updated. They have Luke’s photo, vehicle information, known hangouts, everything. There’s a warrant out for his arrest now. Every local department has been notified. State police have the information too.”
Bliss went very still.
The machines kept humming. The hallway noise drifted in under the door. A cart squeaked somewhere outside.
“He has a warrant?” she asked.
Knox nodded. “Yes.”
“For what?”
His eyes softened. “Enough to make sure everyone looking for him understands this isn’t a misunderstanding.”
Her throat worked carefully, and my hand closed tighter around the back of the chair beside me because I wanted to touch her, but I was across the room and there were too many people watching her try not to fall apart.
Knox lowered his voice. “You still need to stay cautious. A warrant doesn’t mean he’s caught. Until he is, we assume he knows people are looking and we assume he may act desperate.”
“That is a very comforting sentence,” Bliss whispered.
“I’m not saying it to scare you.”
“Too late. Already sprinkled that on the trauma cupcake.”
Aura reached for her hand. Bliss took it immediately.
Daniel looked at me, then at Knox, then back at Bliss. “Bug, I want you where there are people. People I trust. Luke is too comfortable in our neighborhood, and a shitload of aggressive hockey players protecting you will make sleeping less of a nightmare if I know you’re there.”
“I can stay with you.”
“You can’t,” Daniel said, and the way his voice pulled rough told me how much he wanted to say yes. “Bug, my house is the first place he’d expect you to be after yours, and it’s easier to hide in plain sight.”
Bliss’s face crumpled for half a second before she forced it smooth again.
Fuck.
Daniel saw it too, and it hurt him. I watched it land, watched the guilt try to claw up his throat. But he swallowed it down because this was not about what any of us wanted. It was about what kept her safest.
“My house has shifts,” I said. “Guys coming and going. Cameras. Teammates. Coach already knows we have a personal safety issue around the house for a few days. He doesn’t know details, and he won’t ask. But nobody gets inside without someone seeing.”
“And you have practice,” Bliss said, latching onto the argument like it might save her. “Morning and night. Opening game is Friday, Cade. You cannot babysit me between two-a-days and captain things and whatever emotionally repressed locker-room rituals you all do with tape.”
“I’m not babysitting you.”
“That is exactly what this sounds like.”
“It’s keeping you alive!”
The room went quiet.
Bliss’s eyes met mine, and I hated that I had said it that bluntly almost as much as I knew it needed to be said.
Her voice came out smaller. “Cade.”
“No one is treating you like you can’t make decisions,” I said, forcing my tone lower, steadier. “You’re still you. Bossy, impossible, overdressed for hospital discharge, weirdly attached to pudding in a concussed state.”
“I feel your judgment.”
“I know.” My mouth tugged despite everything. “But for forty-eight hours, you don’t get to be alone. That’s not my rule. That’s the doctor’s. And if it has to be someone, it’s me.”
