Page 54 of Knox's Boy

He stirred slightly, nestling closer. "I didn't go anywhere, silly," he mumbled.

"Yes, you did," I said softly. "You went somewhere I couldn't follow, and that scares me."

He was quiet for a moment, absorbing this. Then he tilted his head up, his blue eyes meeting mine with that disarming directness that had first captivated me.

"I'm sorry," he said, with none of his usual deflection.

I pressed my lips to his forehead, lingering there. "I understand." And I did. The undertow of shame and worthlessness was a powerful current; I had seen it drag stronger men than him into its depths. "But I need you to know something."

He shifted, pushing himself up slightly so he could better see my face.

"I will always handle Finn," I said firmly. "That is non-negotiable. But you deserve transparency about such matters. Keeping those voicemails from you was... well-intentioned but misguided."

"You were trying to protect me," Florian said, his hand coming to rest on my chest.

"Yes," I acknowledged. "But protection doesn't require secrecy, not between us. No more secrets. I'll always shield you from harm, but I won't keep you in the dark. Not anymore."

He turned his face into my touch, his eyelids fluttering. "I won't go through your stuff again," he promised, his voice a drowsy murmur.

“I know, baby boy,” I said and kissed him again. "Do you want to finish making us pasta?”

“Yes, please,” he said, excited.

"Good boy," I praised, smiling at his foresight.

He made a small, pleased sound at the praise, his body melting further into mine. It didn't seem like he'd finish the pasta just yet. I watched as the last vestiges of tension drained from his face. I shifted slightly, adjusting my position to better accommodate his weight, wanting him to be perfectly comfortable. He mumbled something incoherent and snuggled closer, one arm wrapping possessively around my waist.

This boy in my arms had endured so much, years of neglect and instability, the recent trauma of homelessness, and now thetoxic resurgence of his father's influence. Yet here he was, still capable of trust, of openness, of love. His resilience humbled me.

I let my hand drift down his back, feeling each vertebra, the subtle rise and fall of his ribs with each breath. His breathing had deepened, taking on the steady rhythm of genuine sleep. He had drifted off right here.

"I love you," I whispered into the quiet room, words I rarely spoke aloud.

I would keep him safe, this beautiful, broken, healing boy who had somehow become my whole world.

Chapter 25. Florian

The beer tasted like watered-down piss, but I kept drinking it anyway, even though I knew I wasn't allowed alcohol without permission. Luna sat across from me, her blue hair catching the neon glow of the sports bar sign behind her. The campus pub hummed with Friday night energy, students celebrating the end of midterms, professors letting loose at corner tables. I glanced at my phone again. 10:47 PM. Almost two hours past my curfew. My stomach twisted with a mix of defiance and dread.

"You checked your phone again," Luna said, her round glasses slipping down her nose as she leaned forward. She pushed them back up with her middle finger, as if she was flipping me off. "That's like the fifth time in fifteen minutes. He really has you on a short leash, doesn't he?"

"It's not like that," I muttered, turning my phone face-down on the sticky table. The pizza between us had grown cold, the cheese a rubbery sheet.

Luna snorted, taking a long pull from her cider. "You're a twenty-one-year-old man who needs permission to have a beer with a friend on a Friday night. You don't see anything wrong with that picture?"

I shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "It's just house rules."

"House rules," she repeated, her voice flat. "In a house that isn't yours, paid for by a man twice your age, who you met how? On that sugar daddy app?" She leaned closer, her eyes softening with genuine concern. "Look, I love you, and I'm glad you're not sleeping in that shelter anymore, but you have nothing of your own right now. No money, no house. You know they'd take you back at the grocery store, but you said no jobs for you now. You're very susceptible to being exploited."

My fingers found the condensation on my glass, tracing nervous patterns. "Knox isn't exploiting me."

"And that age difference..." Luna continued as if I hadn't spoken. "He's what, forty-six? What could you possibly have in common?"

"Forty-eight isn't that old," I said defensively. "And we have plenty in common. He likes art and books, and he helps me with my studies, and…"

"And he puts you on an allowance and gives you a curfew like you're twelve," Luna finished. She sighed, tucking a strand of blue hair behind her ear. "I just worry. You went from one situation with your dad to another with this guy."

The comparison to Finn stung, and I felt heat rising to my cheeks. "Knox is nothing like my father," I said, my voice sharper than I intended. "Finn was a selfish drunk who took everythingand gave nothing. Knox..." I paused, searching for words that wouldn't sound pathetic. "Knox takes care of me. Because I want to. And allow him."