Page 27 of Ruthless Edge

But he doesn't move back.

"We were having fun," he says. "That's what I can't figure out. We were actually having fun, both of us. You were singing along. You were laughing. We worked well together." His hands go out, like the word he needs isn't available to him. "Why is that always the problem? Why every time we start to actually get somewhere you just—why does everything between us have to be this hard?"

The question catches me somewhere I wasn't guarding.

It sounds sincere. That's the thing about Knox Carter that I've never been able to fully defend against. He sounds sincere when he wants to, and the worst part is I think he usually is. I think he's standing on this sidewalk right now genuinely confused about what happened. That's not comforting. That's somehow worse. How can he not get it?

"I don't understand you either," I say.

"That's not an answer."

"I didn’t say I was giving you an answer."

He runs a hand through his hair. I know that gesture too, which I hate. I know it means he's trying to work out how to say something he doesn't have the words for yet.

"Freshman year," he says, and my stomach drops. "You were just gone. We talked every day and then one day you stopped returning my calls and texts and I never got an explanation. I've gone through it and I can't figure it out." He looks at me straight. "Was it something I did? Because I genuinely don't know."

My chest aches.

Headlights swing across us.

A white convertible rolls to the curb and the window comes down and Paige leans across the center console and takes one look at my face. Her green eyes go from me to Knox and back to me.

"Get in," she says.

Relief moves through me so fast it almost comes out of my face.

"Paige—" Knox starts.

"Hi, Knox." She says it pleasantly, still looking at me. "Emma. Get in."

I open the door and close it and I don't look at Knox through the window because I don't want to see what's on his face. Paige pulls away from the curb before anyone can say anything else. I watch Knox in the side mirror for one second. He's standing on the sidewalk with both hands in his jacket pockets looking completely at a loss.

Then we turn the corner, and he’s out of sight.

Paige doesn't say anything for a full block. This is how I know she understands it's serious. Paige's natural mode is to say whatever she's thinking the second she thinks it, so choosing not to is a deliberate thing. She's giving me space to settle before she asks, which is one of the things about Paige that I don't deserve but am consistently grateful for.

"Okay," she says finally. "Tell me all of it."

I start with how much fun I was having with Knox, then Laura arriving. I try to keep my thoughts organized, but sometimes I find myself jumping around. Laura's arms around Knox. His lack of reaction to any of it. Us ending up at a table.

"The drink order," I say. "I ordered another apple martini. Laura said—" I quote it as accurately as I can. “The sugar. The carbs. She'd never understood girls who ordered drinks like that.”

Paige makes a sound.

"Knox had teased me about my drink order earlier," I say. "When I ordered it the first time, but he was being sweet. So I thought⁠—"

"It's not the same thing," Paige says. Her voice has gotten even, which means she’s upset.

"I know. Believe me, I know."

"What else?"

The outfit. I quote the exact words. “My little sister dresses exactly like that. Great taste in casual wear.”

Paige takes her eyes off the road to look at me. "She did not say that to your face."

"We were sitting at the same table."