I dropped my head and bit my tongue for the umpteenth time since seeing him in the coffee shop. It would be so easy. So easy to tell him everything—and it would be hazardous on levels I couldn’t even begin to comprehend.

Dipping his head down low, he spoke directly into my ear. “I’m sorry, but you were always supposed to be mine. After all this time it was hard to keep my mouth shut.” He released me and took a step back, and paused for only a second before he turned and walked away from me.

I didn’t look up to watch him walk away. I couldn’t. This was right, this was the way it had to be—but I knew if I watched him leave me now, I would break. And for the safety of my family, I couldn’t afford to break right now.

Chapter 6

Knox

Present Day—Thatch

I QUICKLY PACED the length of our living room as I replayed my entire conversation with Harlow over and over again. Part of me thought I was so tired from this last shift that I’d made the entire thing up; the rest knew there was no way it wasn’t real. She was there, in front of me . . . my girl, my world. She’d looked just as beautiful as I remembered, and at the same time, she’d looked too thin and sick. She was married, and to top it all off, she’d been living just twenty minutes from me for years, and I’d been fucking clueless.

Resting my fists on my hips, I turned in tight circles as my breathing got rougher, and finally let out a loud roar of frustration.

Of course I’d expected her to get married. It’d been more than four and a half years, and she’d made it clear that she didn’t choose me. I just never expected to have to know about it, or to have to see another man’s ring on her finger. That fucking ridiculous, massive ring.

I was still pacing and getting more frustrated by the minute when Deacon came home sometime later and immediately went into his room, and still later when Graham got home from work. It took me at least a minute to realize that he was standing there watching me, and I finally stopped pacing long enough to stare back at him.

“Yeah?” I asked when he didn’t say anything.

His gaze dropped to the floor, then narrowed when it met mine again. “There a reason you’re trying to murder the carpet?”

Yes. And the thought had me pacing again as I fought with myself to only force out a simple “Nope.”

Another minute later, I heard Grey ask, “What happened? Why is he pacing?”

I started to dismiss her questions, but before I could even understand my movements, I was turning around to grab her arm. With barely a nod in Jagger’s direction, I pulled Grey behind me toward my room.

“Hello to you, too,” she mumbled.

“What the hell?” Graham barked from the entryway, then asked Jagger, “You’re just going to let him take her to his room?”

I didn’t hear Jagger’s response, but I’d only had Grey seated on the edge of my bed and had been pacing again for about twenty seconds before Jagger slowly walked in.

“Graham wants me in here to make sure you don’t try to steal my wife from me.”

Grey rolled her eyes once I stopped pacing and was facing her again, and grabbed for Jagger’s hand when he sat next to her. “Are you going to tell me why you’re so weird, or do I have to guess?” Grey asked me. “And by the way, that was super rude. You could have asked me to walk; you didn’t have to drag me.”

“I didn’t drag you,” I mumbled as I ran my hands over my face. I sighed heavily and tried to talk myself out of telling her, to play everything off as another way to piss Graham off, but I needed to tell someone. “She’s in Richland, Grey. I saw her.”

She blinked slowly, then asked, “Who?”

“Her!”

“Oh yes, of course, her,” Grey scoffed, and Jagger looked away to hide the smile slowly crossing his face. “And by ‘her’ I can only begin to guess you mean one of the many girls you’ve slept with since you all finally started sleeping with girls outside of Thatch,” she said in a detached voice. “Come on, Knox, how on earth am I supposed to know who you mean? Is it one of the crazy ones? You know I can’t keep up with all of them.”

I glanced to my door then walked quickly over to shut it. When I was back in front of them, I spoke softly. “Harlow. Harlow is in Richland. She lives there—she has for years.”

“No way,” she whispered, and her eyes widened. “Whoa, wait. We just talked about her! Did you already know she was there and you didn’t tell me?”

“No. Are you kidding? You think you would’ve just now found me like this if I’d known all along?”

Grey shook her head, then smiled widely as her eyes brightened with excitement. “Well, this is great, Knox! I mean, she’s in Richland; that’s not far—you work there! How did you even see her?”

“I saw her when I was grabbing coffee on my way home. We talked for a little while.”

“She’s married,” Jagger said, speaking up. It hadn’t been a question, and I could hear the sympathy in his tone.

“What? No, she’s—wait, how do you know?” Grey asked, then looked back to me.

I ground my teeth and looked away from them for a second, and Jagger took the opportunity to continue talking.

“Knox looks how I felt every day of the seven years that you were with Ben.”

At the mention of Grey’s late fiancé, I automatically glanced in her direction to make sure she was okay. He had died suddenly just days before their wedding was supposed to happen three years ago. But instead of watching her break down, as I had so many times before, she just looked at me like she understood and felt sorry for me . . . and I knew her husband was to thank for that.

Jagger, Grey, and Ben had all been best friends growing up, and Jagger had been in love with Grey forever. When Ben had died, Jagger continued to be her best friend and help her through two years of grieving until Grey realized she was in love with him, too. It had been an easy transition for them, and it was obviously the best thing for Grey. I would always be thankful to Jagger for it—as I knew Graham and Deacon were.

If anyone knew how I felt, it was Jagger. He’d waited nine years for the girl he loved, and I’d been waiting seven. The only difference was Grey had never known that Jagger loved her, and Harlow had always known how I felt about her . . . and she’d chosen someone else.