Emma

My heart skips the moment I see him. Knox stands at the door, filling the space with his presence, but something about him feels off. His eyes are bloodshot, dark and tired, and his shirt clings to his body like he has been sweating for hours. There is something wild in his gaze that makes my chest tighten.

“Emma,” he says, his voice rough, almost strained. “What are you doing here?”

The way he says my name hurts more than I expect. So cold and distant, like I am a stranger standing at his door.

For a second, my heart sinks. What was I expecting? That he would pull...