KNOX’S POV

Nothing.

“I know you’re in there. I can hear you breathing.”

I press my palm flat against the wood. The surface is freezing cold and rough against my torn skin.

“I fucked up.” The words come out unsteady. Raw in a way that would humiliate me if I had any dignity left. “At the clinic. I know I fucked up. You asked me something simple — something you had every right to ask — and I threw a fucking tantrum and slammed a wall and I saw your face when I did it and I know what you were thinking. I know the look. I’ve seen it before,...