Page 66 of Rebel Moon

Could I ever have love if I continued on as I was? Being here, spending time with Knox, I knew something had to change. I just didn’t know how to do it. How could I trust myself to soften enough to love and be loved without losing everything I’d fought so hard to find?

But I’d trusted myself at eighteen years old when I’d decided to conquer the world. Why not trust myself at thirty-six to let Knox love me? To let myself love him. And suddenly, asking myself these questions, I knew one thing for sure. I was acting like an idiot. Pushing away the man, who down deep I’d loved for a long time, was ludicrous.

My phone buzzed from the dresser. It was a reminder to take my vitamin, but I also noticed an unopened text from Knox. From last night, asking if I was all right. I hadn’t responded. In my defense, I hadn’t seen it, but still. I’d probably hurt him with my silence. I had to do better.

“All right, Mindy Sue,” I muttered under my breath. “Put your boots on and go get him.”

He opened the door to his cabin dressed in a flannel shirt half-buttoned, hair sticking up, coffee in one hand. Lord, he looked good like that. So good I wanted to put both hands on his chest and push him onto the bed.

“Morning,” he said in that slow drawl that made my heart flutter. “You good?”

“I saw your text. This morning. I fell asleep early last night. Thanks for checking on me.”

“No problem.”

“I wanted to say I was sorry too. About kind of disappearing.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not really,” I said.

“Come inside. It’s frigid. And your hair looks wet.”

“Yes, thanks.”

He backed up so I could walk through the door into his warm cabin. There was a fire going in the hearth. His bed had already been made.

He must have seen me notice because he smiled. “I always make my bed first thing in the morning.”

“Another rule?”

“Nah. Just helps me keep my head tidy.” He took my hand. “Come sit. Let me pour you some coffee. I have scones in the fridge too. I can warm them up for us.”

I nodded, not really interested in coffee or scones, but sat in one of the chairs. He poured me a cup of coffee, put two scones in the microwave, then joined me.

“How’s the head?” Knox asked, handing me the mug.

“Better.”

“I didn’t realize you got migraines.”

“Not often.” I looked down at the cup in my hands. “I didn’t have one. I just made it up. Because I needed a little space, I guess. I’m sorry.”

“I thought maybe that was the case. I’m sorry you felt like you had to hide from me. I pushed too hard.”

“Nothing that happened is your fault,” I said. “It’s me. I just don’t know how to do this.”

“Do what?” Knox asked gently.

“Let myself have this. Let myself have you. I don’t remember how to be that kind to myself, if I ever knew in the first place. You don’t need anything from me. I don’t have anything to give you—to make sure you love me—because you already have it all.”

“I don’t need you,” he said, gruffly. “But I want you. There’s a big difference. I don’t have everything either, by the way. I don’t have you. It took Montana and slowing down to see that you’re my missing piece. That said, I don’t know how to reach you. I see glimpses and then you shutter everything back up again.”

“I want to try, Knox,” I whispered. “I want you too.”

He smiled. “Too bad I made the bed already.”

I laughed. “Yes, that is unfortunate.”