Page 26 of Knife Thrower

“Sorry.” I step around her, putting a yard of space between us. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

She rubs a hand into her lower spine. “My back has been aching. I just can’t sit still anymore, so I’ve been taking walks in the evening.” She drops her hand, her heavy-lidded green eyes catching the amber lot lights. “Care to walk with me?”

“I’m exhausted.” I bury my hands in my sweatshirt pocket. “I need a shower. Goodnight, Nova.”

I take two steps toward my trailer.

“Is there a reason you’re avoiding me?”

Her voice lacks accusation. It’s just full of curiosity.

I freeze.

Nova tilts her head, studying me with an arrestingly direct gaze. “I see you hanging out with Jules. You drink beer with Wren. But the second I walk into a room, you run the other direction. It’s noticeable.”

The escape artist reads the locked doors perfectly.

I weigh the options. I can lie. I can snap at her and retreat to my deadbolt. But the champagne buzzes in my temples, and the exhausting weight of holding the secret suddenly feels too heavy for my shoulders. Running takes energy I no longer possess tonight.

I let out a long, defeated sigh. Pulling a hand from my pocket, I gesture toward the dark path winding around the game booths.

I start walking. Nova falls into step beside me.

We pass the carousel in complete silence. The wooden horses cast long, twisted shadows across the dirt. I don’t look at her when I finally open my mouth.

“I had a child.” The words taste like ash. I keep my eyes strictly on the gravel ahead. “I lost her in a car accident.”

Nova stops walking. Her hand drifts down, resting right over the curve of her stomach. I know it’s not a jab at my loss or boasting. It’s an instinct, a mother protecting the life inside her from the grief spilling out of me.

I stare at her fingers against the swell of her belly.

For years, looking at a pregnant woman felt like swallowing broken glass. I spent every night standing in front of flying steel, waiting for the blade that would slip past my reflexes. The one that would finally let me close my eyes and find June on the other side.

But right now, the gravel crunches under my sneakers. The night air fills my lungs. The sharp tang of champagne lingers on my tongue from a kiss that sent absolute fire tearing through my veins.

I don’t want the blade to slip.

If an afterlife exists, June is there. She is safe. But I don’t need to rush to meet her. Not anymore. Wren’s quiet understanding, Jules’s blunt acceptance, Cole’s devastating patience—these people are chipping away the mortar of my fortress. Even Nova, standing here in the cold, offers a bridge rather than a wall.

“I am so incredibly sorry, Sloane.” Her eyes soften, the fierce, feral edge gone. “I’m always here if you want to talk. About her. About anything. And I completely understand if you want to skip the baby shower next weekend. You don’t need to push yourself.”

I blink, pulling my gaze up to her face.

“I didn’t know I was invited.”

A small, beautiful smile curves Nova’s lips. She steps closer, closing the distance I usually demand.

“Of course you are. You’re part of the Seven Sins family now.” She tilts her head, her green eyes catching the amber lot lights. “Whether you let Cole eventually pin you down or not.”

Heat rushes straight up my neck. I stare at the canvas behind her, my cheeks burning. Do they all see it? The thick, electric tension humming across the sawdust every time he throws a knife? The deliberate, intoxicating dance we play?

“Goodnight, Nova,” I manage to say, my voice a raspy whisper.

She squeezes my forearm—a quick, grounding pressure.

“Goodnight, Sloane.”

I take the steps to my trailer two at a time. The heavy metal door clicks shut behind me. I throw the deadbolt, kick off my sneakers, and strip the oversized sweatshirt over my head. The jeans follow. I leave the clothes in a pile on the linoleum and walk straight into the narrow bathroom.