Page 29 of Apple of My Eye

Chapter Nine

Knox

Mom pulledDaisy into a second hug before I’d even dug the truck keys from my jacket. Dad shook my hand with one arm, slapping my shoulder with the other, the way he’d done since I was an adult—like I was heading off to war and he wasn’t sure when he’d see me.

Bea sidled up to Daisy, cupped a hand near her ear, and said whatever it was she said. Daisy’s entire face opened up at it—real laughter from somewhere unexpected.

I had to know what my sister said. I’d interrogate her for it later.

Daisy handled all of it better than most people would. The loudness of our family of five. The way nobody asked permission before pulling you into a hug or conversation, deciding you mattered. She didn’t flinch or shut down or smile that polite, blank smile people used when they were counting down the seconds to the door.

She became a part of us and probably didn’t even realize she was doing it. A small turn toward my mom when she talked instead of away. Her hand resting on theback of the chair, opening up instead of tucked against herself. The ease in her shoulders when my dad told some long-winded story about a horse who’d once bucked him off.

Then Mom found out about the hotel we were staying in for the night. Her expression shifted, horrified.

“Absolutely not. You’re staying with us,” she insisted. To Daisy, she said, “Now that the kids aren’t living at home, it’s so empty. You can take Bea’s room; it’s next to Knox’s room. And I’ll make breakfast in the morning before you drive back. My blueberry muffins are much better than that dreadful free breakfast at the hotel.”

I gave Daisy a look to check in with a subtle lift of my brow, an out if she wanted it. No pressure. No explanation needed. Personally, I’d hoped to get her all to myself in the hotel. Maybe in my bed if the stars aligned.

She smiled at my mother. “We’d love to stay with you. Thanks for your hospitality.”

Our driveto my family home on Zimmerman Trail was quieter than the drive to the arena had been. We drove away from downtown Billings, through more suburban neighborhoods. I kept one hand loose on the wheel. My elbow rested on the console, close enough to be aware of the space between us, doing nothing about it like reaching for her hand or resting mine on her knee.

“My whole family showing up like that wasn’t part of theplan. But you took it like a champ.” A whole apology took over my tone.

“They’re wonderful people. You’re lucky, Knox. You know that?”

I knew it. But the way she said it made me listen harder to what she was really saying—I had parents I could turn to anytime I needed them. I couldn’t imagine living without them, which hit that desire to be Daisy’s protector even more fiercely.

“You didn’t like your dad calling you the hero though.”

“Oh.” I exhaled slow. “You noticed.”

I tightened my grip on the wheel once, then let it go easily. The road stretched ahead, but Billings was still a small town despite being the largest in Montana. We’d be home soon, enough time to figure out how much to say.

“During my last deployment overseas, my unit came under heavy attack.” I swallowed back the visions of the explosions, the fire, all of it. “Everything went sideways faster than we could get ahead of it.”

Instead of images, the heat hit me again like I was there. The sounds played through my ears of gunfighting and screams and death.

“I got some of them out.” Some. That word did the hard work.

“But not all?”

I shook my head once.

“They called me a hero. Gave me medals. Held a ceremony.” I heard the roughness in my own voice and didn’t bother smoothing it out. “Didn’t sit right then. Still doesn’t.”

“You saved lives, Knox.”

“There are plenty of families without loved ones now who wish I’d saved more.”

The road hummed under the tires. Neither of us said anything for a minute, and I was grateful she didn’t try to fix it or hand me some polished version of comfort that would’ve bounced off of me. She simply let it be what it was.

“You’ve been my hero lately.” Her hand landed on mine on the center console.

I turned my head. She’d twisted to face me in her seat. I held her gaze for a beat longer than was smart on the dark side road.

“You make it easy to be that for you.” I meant it more than I should’ve and laced my fingers with hers.