Things We Hide from the Light (Knockemout Series, 2)

Ninety-six hours. Nash and I had officially survived four whole days of living together and the intense local scrutiny of our budding relationship. I hadn’t even choked on my latte yesterday morning when Justice asked me how my “boyfriend” was doing.

The wedding was four days away—my bridesmaid dress was pretty damn stunning—and Nash’s article was slated to be published the following Monday.

If all went to plan, news of Nash’s recovered memory would draw Duncan Hugo out of hiding, he’d fall into the trap, and then it would all be over.

I just wasn’t sure how much of the “all” I wanted to be over.

The ambiguous “after” was suddenly looming large, which meant decisions would have to be made. If we found the car when we found Duncan, the job would be done and I’d be heading back to Atlanta to wait for my next assignment.

Or…

I slowed my legs to a jog before coming to a stop in Honky Tonk’s parking lot.

Bending at the waist, I tried to catch my breath in the early morning chill. Steam rose from my sweaty face.

Everything was moving so fast. There was a momentum, a sense of urgency we all felt as the days ticked down. It made me feel nervous and just the slightest bit out of control.

“Never understood why people run for fun,” a voice said behind me.

I straightened and found Knox with a gym bag slung over his shoulder.

“What are you doing up so early?” I asked, my breath still coming in pants.

“Dropped Way off at school. Grabbed last night’s deposit and figured I’d hit the gym after the bank.”

“Couldn’t sleep?” I guessed.

“Not a fucking wink.”

“Wedding or Hugo?” I asked, stripping off my headband and using the hem of my shirt to mop my face.

“Fuck Hugo. That asshole’s gonna end up behind bars or in the ground.”

“So wedding then.”

He swiped a hand through his hair. “She’s gonna be mine. Officially. I keep waitin’ for her to come to her senses.”

“You’re scared,” I said, surprised.

“Fuck yeah, I’m scared. I’m shaking in my goddamn boots. I need to lock her down now before she realizes she could do better.”

“She couldn’t,” I said. “No one in this world could ever love her more than you do. And I’m not saying she’s not lovable. I’m saying you love her that much.”

“I do,” he said hoarsely.

“And she loves you that much.”

His lips quirked. “She does, doesn’t she?”

I nodded.

He tossed his gym bag into the back of his truck and I leaned against the fender.

“Tell me it’s worth it,” I blurted out.

“What’s worth it?”

“Letting someone in. Letting them get close enough that they could destroy you if they wanted to.”

“I might sound like a goddamn greeting card, but it’s worth everything,” he rasped.

Goose bumps rose on my rapidly cooling skin.

“I’m not kidding. What I had before compared to what I have now?” He shook his head. “It doesn’t even compare.”

“How?”

“Don’t know how to explain it. I just know there’s nothing ballsy or brave about living your whole life behind walls. The real good shit doesn’t start until those bricks come down and you invite someone in. If you’re not scared shitless, you’re doin’ it wrong.”

“But what if I like walls?” I asked, kicking at a rock with the toe of my sneaker.

“You don’t.”

“Pretty sure I do.”

He shook his head. “If you liked your walls so much, you wouldn’t be scared shitless right now.”

I rolled my eyes. “So how does this work? I’m just supposed to dump my deepest, darkest secrets, the ugliest parts of me, on everyone and then hope it doesn’t all go to hell?”

He gave me that bad-boy smirk. “Don’t be a dumbass. You don’t let everyone in. Only the ones who matter. The ones you want to trust. The ones you want to let you in. That vulnerability shit is just like respect. It’s earned.”

I wondered if maybe that was why I’d failed as a team member before. I didn’t trust anyone to have my back and I’d given them no reason to trust me with theirs.

“I think being with Naomi has quadrupled your daily word count,” I teased.

“Being with Naomi made me realize how miserable I was before. Everything I thought I wanted was just me trying to protect myself from really living. Like pushing people away,” he said pointedly.

I looked down at my toes and let his words rattle around in my brain. Did I want to keep living the way I always had? Or was I ready for more? Was I ready to stop pushing?

I blew out a breath. “I’m really proud of you, Knox.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled. “Now stop fucking asking me about relationship shit.”

I bumped his shoulder with mine. “You’re gonna be a great husband and dad. A grumpy one with a foul vocabulary, but a great one.”

He grunted and I started for the door to the stairs.

“Lina?”

I turned back. “Yeah?”

“Never seen him like this with any other woman. He’s in deep and he’s hopin’ you are too.”

I wanted to smile and throw up at the same time. To be on the safe side, I bent at the waist again.

Knox smirked. “See? Scared shitless. Least you know you’re doin’ it right.”

I gave him a friendly middle finger.

I had the whole day to roll things around in my head. By midafternoon, I was so sick of my own thoughts I headed to the grocery store and bought fixings for turkey clubs.

Sandwiches didn’t count as cooking, I assured myself.

Back at Nash’s, I watered my plant, checked in with work, and—after a brief internet search—managed to cook the bacon in the oven without turning it into charcoal.

I assembled two sandwiches like they were works of art and then sat there staring at the clock. Nash wasn’t due home for almost another hour. I’d seriously mistimed my food prep.

On a whim, I pulled out my phone and called my mom.

“Well, this is a nice surprise,” Mom said when she came on-screen. The pure joy on her face over me reaching out to her spontaneously felt like a billion tiny guilt darts embedding themselves in my skin.

I leaned my phone against the jar of dog treats Nash kept on the counter. “Hey, Mom.”

“What’s wrong? You look… Wait. You look happy.”

“I do?”

“You have a glow. Or is that a filter?”

“No filter. I’m actually… I’m seeing someone,” I said.

My mother didn’t move a muscle on the screen.

“Mom? Did I lose you? I think you’re frozen.”

She leaned closer. “I’m not frozen. I’m just trying not to startle you with any sudden moves.”

“So there’s this guy,” I said, deciding to get it all out. “He’s…”

How was I supposed to explain Nash Morgan?

“Special. I think. I mean, he really is and I like him. Like a lot. A whole lot. But we just met and I have a life in Atlanta and a job that requires a lot of travel and am I completely losing my mind for thinking that maybe he might be worth changing all that for?”

I waited a beat and then another. My mother’s mouth was hanging open on the screen.

“Mom?” I prompted.

She started blinking rapidly. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I’m just processing the fact that you willingly called me to talk about your love life.”

“I didn’t say love. You said love,” I said, feeling the panic crawl up my throat.

“Sorry. Your like life,” my mother amended.

“I really like him, Mom. He’s just so…good. And real. And he knows me even though I tried to keep him from getting to know me. But even with everything he knows about me, he still likes me.”

“This sounds serious.”

“It could be. But I don’t know if I can do serious. What if he gets to know all of me and then he decides I’m too much or not enough? What if I don’t trust him enough and he gets tired of that? What would I do for a living if I quit my job and moved here for him? He doesn’t have nearly enough closet space.”

“Take the risk.”

“What?” I blinked, certain I’d misheard my mother.

“Lina, the only way you’re going to know if he’s the one is if you treat him like he’s the one. He can either earn the title or lose it. That’s up to him, but you’re the one who has to give him the chance to earn you.”

“I’m confused. You’ve always seemed so…risk averse.”

“Honey, I was a hot mess for years over what happened to you.”

“Uh, no shit, Mom.”

“I blamed myself. I blamed your father. The pediatrician. Soccer. The stress of high school. So I dedicated myself to trying to protect you from everything. And I think putting you in that bubble did worse long-term damage than your heart condition.”

“You didn’t damage me.” I hadn’t grown up a risk-averse little chicken. My job involved actual danger.

“You’ve viewed every relationship since as a potential prison.”

Okay, that rang a little true.

“If you really like this guy, then you need to give him a real chance. And if that means moving to Knockemunder—”

“Knockemout,” I corrected.

“What’s going on? Are we pausing this game or what?” My dad bellowed in the background.

“Lina has a boyfriend, Hector.”

“Oh great. Let’s tell everyone,” I said dryly.

My father squished into the frame. “Hi, kiddo. What’s this about a boyfriend?”

“Hey, Dad,” I said lamely.

“Where are you? That’s not your kitchen,” Dad said, leaning in to look at the screen, essentially blocking everyone else from the camera.

“Oh, I’m…uh…”

I heard the key in the lock.

“You know what, I should go,” I said quickly.

But it was too late. The front door swung open behind me and Nash, looking all kinds of fine in his uniform, and Piper in a new orange sweater walked in.

I spun around to look at him.

“Hey, Angel,” he said warmly. “Holy shit. Did you cook?”

“Uh.” I spun back around and stared at the two slack-jawed adults on my screen. “Oh boy.”

“I think that went well,” Nash said through a mouthful of turkey club.

I put my head down on the counter and groaned. “Did you have to be so charming?”

“Angel, it’s in my DNA. It’s like asking Oprah to stop loving books.”

“Did you have to give them your phone number? They call me every day!”

“I couldn’t come up with a polite way around that one,” Nash confessed. “What harm could it do?”

I sat up and covered my face with my hands. “You don’t understand. They’re going to get on a plane and show up here.”

“I’m lookin’ forward to meeting them.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying. You’re delusional. I obviously undercooked the bacon and pork amoebas are eating your brain as we speak.”

“If they’re important to you, they’re important to me. They show up and we’ll deal with it together. You, me, and the amoebas.”

“You have no idea what you’re signing up for,” I warned him.

“Why don’t we worry about this after?” he offered, his blue eyes sparkling with annoying amusement.

“Because we have to worry about it now.”

“There you go emphasizing again.”

My eyes narrowed. “Don’t make me slap you across the face with undercooked bacon.”

Nash had finished his sandwich and picked up half of mine. “You know, something struck me as you were telling your folks that you were just visiting me at my place.”

“Cramps from pork amoebas?”

“Funny. No. I was thinkin’ about honesty.”

“Fine. I’ve been meaning to tell you I’ve been using your toothbrush to brush Piper’s teeth,” I joked.

“Explains the dog hair in the toothpaste. Now it’s my turn. You gotta stop lyin’ to your folks.”

I stiffened on the stool. “That’s easier said than done. And I don’t have the energy to explain to you why.”

“Nope. That’s not happening, baby. I’m not letting you push back on this. Hear my words. You have got to trust your parents enough to be honest with them.”

I rolled my eyes. “Oh, sure. It’ll go something like this. ‘Hi, Mom. I’ve been lying to you for years. Yeah, I’m actually kind of a bounty hunter, which involves some dangerous investigations while staying in seedy roach motels with flimsy doors. I’m really good at it and the rush makes me feel alive after so many years of feeling smothered. Also, I didn’t give up eating red meat like I told you. What’s that? Oh, you’re so devastated you just had a heart attack? Now Dad’s ulcer is acting up again and he’s bleeding internally? Cool.’”

He grinned at me. “Angel.”

I gave the sandwich thief a shove. “Go away. I’m mad at you.”

“This is you pushing me away and this is me stickin’,” he pointed out.

“I changed my mind,” I decided. “I like keeping everyone at arm’s length.”

“No, you haven’t. No, you don’t. And I get that what I’m suggesting is probably downright scary. But, Angel, you have got to trust your folks to handle their shit, which includes but is not limited to their reactions to you and your shit.”

“There’s too much shit in that metaphor. It stinks.”

“Ha. Look, I’m not sayin’ it’s gonna be easy. And I’m not sayin’ that they’re gonna have the exact right reaction. But you have to do the best you can do and trust them to do the same.”

“You want me to confess to every single thing that I’ve lied to them about?”

“Hell, no. No parent needs to hear about sneakin’ out at night and stealin’ booze. Start with now. Tell them about work. Tell them about us.”

“I did tell them about us. That’s why I called them.”

He stayed where he was, sandwich halfway to his mouth, eyes boring into me with the kind of heat that made my stomach feel like it was attached to a pair of flip-flops.

“What?” I dared him.

“You told your mom about me.”

“So?”

He dropped the sandwich and pounced on me.

I squealed and Piper barked playfully.

“So that deserves a reward,” he said, picking me up.