Things We Never Got Over (Knockemout Book 1)

Too complicated. Too much. Too needy. Not worth it.

The thoughts swirled in my head on a vicious merry-go-round as I marched down the sidewalk, Knockemout blurring around me through unshed tears.

I’d made a life here. I’d built up a fantasy in my mind. Taken afternoon coffees and whispered dirty talk to mean something else entirely. He didn’t want me. He never had.

Worse, he hadn’t wanted Waylay either. I’d taken my young, impressionable charge and dragged her into my relationship with a man who was never going to be there for her in the long-term.

I’d seen it in his eyes. The pity. He felt sorry for me. Poor, stupid Naomi falling for the bad boy who’d made no promises.

And the money. The gall of the man thinking he could break my heart and then fork over cash like I was a prostitute and like it would somehow make everything all right. It added a new layer to the humiliation.

I was going to go to Liza’s, fake a migraine, and spend the rest of the day in bed. Then I was going to have an overdue chat with myself about picking the wrong fucking guy. Again.

And when I was done lecturing myself, I was going to make sure that Waylay never let herself get stuck into positions like this.

Oh, God. I lived in the small town of freaking small towns. I’d see him around. Everywhere. At the coffee shop. At work. This was his town. Not mine. Did I even belong here?

“Hey, Naomi!” Bud Nickelbee called as he ducked out of the hardware store. “Just wanted to let you know I popped out this morning and fixed your front door.”

I stopped in my tracks. “You did?”

He bobbed his head. “Heard about the trouble and didn’t want you to have to worry about getting the repairs done.”

I hugged him hard. “You have no idea how much that means to me. Thank you, Bud.”

He shrugged against me, then awkwardly patted my back. “Just figured you had enough crap to deal with and thought you could use a break.”

“You’re a good man, Bud.”

“Okaaaaaay,” he said. “You all right? You need me to call someone? I can have Knox come get you.”

I shook my head rapidly from side to side until the hardware store and its owner blurred before me. “No!” I barked. “I mean, thanks but no.”

The door to Dino’s opened, and my stomach dropped into my toes when Knox stepped outside onto the sidewalk.

I turned away, praying for invisibility.

“Naomi,” he called.

I started walking in the opposite direction.

“Naomi, come on. Stop,” Knox said.

But with just a few words, he’d permanently lost the privilege of me listening to him when he told me what to do.

“Now, Knox. I don’t think the lady wants to talk to you right now,” I heard Bud advise.

“Step aside, Bud,” I heard Knox growl.

I was an idiot. But at least I was a fast-moving idiot.

I walked briskly down the block, determined to leave Knox in my rearview mirror just like my ex-fiancé.

A man doesn’t go all in with a woman, it’s for a reason.

Maybe he’s looking for something better.

My chest physically ached as Knox’s words about Warner echoed in my head.

Was there someone out there who would find me to be enough? Not too much or too little, but the person they’d been waiting for their whole life.

Tears burned my eyes as I turned the corner at a jog. I blamed them for not seeing the woman who stepped out of the storefront.

“I’m so sorry,” I said, a split second after barreling into her.

“Ms. Witt.”

Oh dear God, no.

Yolanda Suarez, stern caseworker who had never once seen me at my best, looked nonplussed at the full-body contact.

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

The lie was on the tip of my tongue. So familiar it almost felt true. But it wasn’t. Sometimes the truth was bigger than any intention.

“No, I’m not.”

Ten minutes later, I stared down at a heart drawn in the foam of the latte in front of me.

“So, that’s everything. I pretended to be in a relationship with a man who told me not to fall in love with him and then I did. My ex-fiancé showed up at my job and caused a scene. Someone broke into our house, and no one is sure if it was him, Tina, or a random criminal. Oh, and Waylay tried to get revenge on a mean teacher with field mice.”

Across from me, Yolanda picked up her green tea and sipped. She set the mug down. “Well, then.”

“Brought you some cookies,” Justice said, looking mournful. He slid a plate onto the table near my elbow.

“Were these hearts?” I asked, holding up what was clearly one half of a pink frosted heart.

He winced. “I broke ’em in half. Was hoping you wouldn’t notice.”

“Thank you, Justice. That’s so sweet of you,” I said. Before leaving, he squeezed my shoulder, and I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from crying.

“Basically what I’m saying is I’m a big enough mess that I can’t hide it, and you deserve to know the truth. But I promise you—even though my life doesn’t look like it—I am extremely organized, resourceful, and I will do whatever it takes to keep Waylay safe.”

“Naomi,” she said, “Waylay is lucky to have you as a guardian, and any court in the state is going to come to the same conclusion. Her attendance at school is improved. Her grades are up. She has real friends. You’re making a positive impact on that little girl’s life.”

For once in my life, I didn’t want a gold star. I wanted someone to see me. Really see me for the hot mess I was. “What about all the things I’m doing wrong?”

I thought I detected a hint of pity in Mrs. Suarez’s smile. “That’s parenting. We’re all doing our best. We’re exhausted, confused, and feeling like we’re constantly being judged by everyone else who looks like they’ve got it all figured out. But no one does. We’re all just making it up as we go.”

“Really?” I whispered.

She leaned forward. “Last night I grounded my twelve-year-old for three days because he was on my last nerve before he told me that he liked his friend Evan’s mom’s meatballs better than mine.”

She took another sip of tea. “And today I’ll apologize and unground him if he cleaned his room. Even though Evan’s mom gets her meatballs from the freezer section of Grover’s Groceries.”

I managed a tremulous smile. “It’s just life is so much harder than I thought it would be,” I confessed. “I thought if I had a plan and followed the rules, it would be easy.”

“Can I give you some advice?” she asked. “Please do.”

“At some point, you have got to stop worrying so much about what everyone else needs and start thinking about what you need.”

I blinked. “I would think selflessness was a good quality in a guardian,” I said with a defensive sniff.

“So is setting an example for your niece about how she doesn’t need to turn herself inside out to be loved. How she doesn’t need to set herself on fire to keep someone else warm. Demanding to have your own needs met isn’t problematic—it’s heroic, and kids are watching. They’re always watching. If you set an example that tells her the only way she’s worthy of love is by giving everyone everything, she’ll internalize that message.”

I dropped my forehead to the table with a groan.

“There’s a difference between taking care of someone because you love them and taking care of someone because you want them to love you,” she continued.

There was a big difference. One of them was genuine and giving, and the other was manipulative, controlling.

“You’re going to be fine, Naomi,” Yolanda assured me. “You’ve got a big heart, and sooner or later, once all this drama is over, someone is going to look at you and recognize it. And they’re going to want to take care of you for a change.”

Yeah, right.

I was realizing that the only person I could count on in this life was me.

And Stef, of course. But him being gay definitely put a damper on our romance.

“About Knox,” she said.

I picked my head up off the table. Just hearing his name was a jagged splinter in my heart.

“What about him?”

“I don’t know another woman in town who wouldn’t have fallen under Knox Morgan’s spell given the time and attention he gave you. I’ll also say this—I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you. If he was faking those feelings, someone needs to get that man an Academy Award.”

“I’ve known him for a good, long time. And I’ve never known him to do anything he didn’t want to do, especially when it comes to women. If he willingly agreed to the guise of a relationship, he wanted it.”

“It was his idea,” I whispered. A spark of hope lit inside me. One I immediately extinguished.

A man doesn’t go all in with a woman, it’s for a reason.

“He had a shit time with his mom’s death and everything that came after,” she continued. “He didn’t have the happily ever after example you grew up with. Sometimes when you don’t know what’s possible, you can’t hope for it yourself.”

“Ms. Suarez.”

“I think at this point you can call me Yolanda.”

“Yolanda, we’re practically the same age. How do you have all of this wisdom?”

“I’ve been married twice and have four kids. My parents have been married for fifty years. My husband’s parents have been divorced and remarried so many times neither of us can keep count. If there’s one thing I understand, it’s love and how damn messy it can be.”

“HI, SWEETIE. HOW WAS LUNCH?” My mom was dressed in a dirt-streaked t-shirt and sun hat. She had a glass of iced tea in one hand and a gardening glove on the other.

“Hi, Mom,” I said, trying to keep my eyes averted as I headed for the front porch. Amanda Witt had a keen sense of when something was wrong with someone, and this was not a conversation I felt like having. “Where’s Way?”

“Your father took her to the mall. What’s wrong? What happened? Did someone choke on a breadstick at lunch?”

I shook my head, not trusting my voice.

“Did something happen with Knox?” she asked softer now.

I tried to swallow around the lump in my throat, but I was choking on unshed tears.

“Okay. Let’s go sit down,” she said, guiding me down the hall to the bedroom she was sharing with my father.

It was a bright, pretty room done in creams and grays. There was a large four-poster bed and windows that overlooked the backyard and creek. A vase of fresh flowers sat on a table tucked between two armchairs that occupied the space in front of the windows.

“I’ll just spread this out,” Mom said, draping my father’s ratty bathrobe over one of the armchairs. She hated the robe and had tried six ways to Sunday over the years to get rid of it. But Dad always found a way to resurrect it.

She plopped down on the robe-covered chair and patted the one next to her. “Sit. Talk.”

I shook my head even as I sat. “Mom, I’m really not in the mood to talk right now.”

“Well, tough shit, sweetie.”

“Mom!”

She shrugged. “I’ve let you get away with this ‘don’t be a burden’ routine for far too long. It was easier for me to rely on you to always behave. To always be the easy daughter. And that’s not fair to you.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying, dear, sweet, heart-of-gold daughter of mine: Stop trying to be so damn perfect.”

I wasn’t sure if I was prepared to have this conversation any more than the Knox conversation.

“You’ve lived your whole life trying to make up for your sister. Trying to never burden anyone, never ask for anything you needed, never disappoint.”

“I feel like that’s something a parent wouldn’t want to complain about,” I said defensively.

“Naomi, I never wanted you to be perfect. I just wanted you to be happy.”

“I’m…happy,” I lied.

“Your father and I did everything we could to help Tina be happy and healthy. But it wasn’t her path. And it took years, but we finally understood that it wasn’t our path to turn her into someone she’s not. We did our best with your sister. But Tina’s choices are not a measure of our worth. It’s a tough lesson, but we got it. Now it’s your turn. You can’t live your entire life trying to make up for your sister’s mistakes.”

“I wouldn’t say that’s how I’ve lived my entire life,” I hedged.

Mom reached over and brushed her hand over my cheek. I felt the grit of dirt transfer to my skin. “Whoops! Sorry about that.” She licked her thumb and leaned in for the Mom polish.

“I’m too old for this,” I complained, backing away.

“Listen, sweetie. You’re allowed to have needs. You’re allowed to make mistakes. You’re allowed to make decisions your father or I might not agree with. It’s your life. You’re a beautiful, big-hearted, intelligent woman who needs to start figuring out what she wants.”

What did I want?

Right now I just wanted to crawl in bed and pull the covers over my head for a week. But I couldn’t. I had responsibilities. And one of those responsibilities had conned my father into taking her to the mall.

“Do you even want to be a guardian?” Mom asked.

I stilled at the question.

“I can’t imagine that taking in a soon-to-be twelve-year-old fit neatly into your life plan.”

“Mom, I couldn’t just let her end up with strangers.”

“What about your father and me? You didn’t think we’d be thrilled to make room in our lives for a granddaughter?”

“You shouldn’t have to raise your daughter’s daughter. It’s not fair. Dad’s retired. You’ll be there soon. That cruise was the first big trip you two have ever taken together.”

“Do you want to be her guardian?” Mom repeated, ignoring my excellent points.

Did I want this? Did I want to be a surrogate mother to Waylay? I felt an echo of that warm glow in my chest. It pushed back against the cold that had settled there.

“Yeah,” I said, feeling my mouth do the impossible and curve into a small smile. It was the truth. I wanted this more than I’d ever wanted anything on my to do list. More than any goal I was single-mindedly marching toward. “I really do. I love her. I love being around her. I love when she comes home from school bursting with news to tell me. I love watching her grow into this smart, strong, confident kid who, every once in a while, lets her guard down and lets me in.”

“I know how that feels,” Mom said gently. “I wish it would happen more often.”

Ouch. Direct hit.

“Knox and I broke up,” I said in a rush. “We were never really together.

We were just having really, really great sex. But I accidentally fell in love with him, which he warned me not to do. And now he thinks I’m too complicated and not worth the effort.”

Mom looked at her iced tea, then back at me. “I think we’re gonna need a stronger drink.”

HOURS later I tiptoed out onto the deck with my phone in hand. The phone he’d bought me. Which meant it needed to be smashed into a million pieces at my earliest convenience.

The rest of the family was cleaning up from dinner. A dinner that Knox was conspicuously absent from. My mom had distracted Waylay from his absence by demanding a post-dinner fashion show of the new winter coat and sweaters my pushover father had bought her.

I had a headache from fake smiling.

I dialed the number before I could chicken out.

“Witty! What’s up? Did they find the bastard who broke in?”

I’d texted him and Sloane about the break-in. But this deserved a phone call.

“Stef.” My voice broke on his name.

“Shit. What happened? Are you okay? Is Waylay okay?”

I shook my head, trying to dislodge the lump in my throat. When I remembered what Knox had said.

“Do not shed one more tear over some asshole who never deserved you in the first place.”

I cleared my throat. “Knox ended things.”

“That gorgeous piece of garbage. Fake ended things or for real ended things?”

“Real ended things. I’m too ‘complicated.’”

“What the hell does he want? A simpleton? Simpletons are terrible in bed, and they’re worse at blow jobs.”

I managed a pathetic chuckle.

“Listen to me, Naomi. If that man isn’t smart enough to recognize how amazingly intelligent and beautiful and kind and caring and wickedly awesome at board games you are, it’s his loss. Which makes him the simpleton. I forbid you to spend one second of your time over-thinking this and coming to the false conclusion you’re the one with the problem.”

Well, there went my evening plans.

“I can’t believe I fell for him, Stef. What was I thinking?”

“You were thinking, ‘here’s a gorgeous man who’s great in bed who walks my niece to the bus stop, breaks my ex’s nose, and brings me mid-afternoon coffee so I don’t get cranky.’ All the signs were there because he put them there. If you ask me—which I know you didn’t—I’m betting he wasn’t faking it. He was feeling it, and it scared the shit out of him. The beautiful, tattooed piece of chicken shit.”

“I really need to stop texting you about everything that happens in my day,” I decided. “It’s co-dependent.”

“I’ll bring it up with our couples therapist,” Stef quipped. “Listen. I’ll be back in Knockemout in a few days. What do you want to do until then? Get out of Dodge? Buy a new ‘fuck you’ wardrobe?”

He meant it. If I said I felt like flying to Rome and spending a ridiculous amount of money on shoes, he would book the plane tickets. If I told him I wanted to get revenge on Knox by filling his house with Styrofoam peanuts and cat litter, Stef would show up at my house with a U-Haul packed with retribution supplies.

Maybe I didn’t need a life partner. Maybe I already had one.

“I think I want to pretend he doesn’t exist long enough that I forget he does,” I decided.

I wanted to make him not matter. I wanted to not feel a damn thing when he walked into a room. I wanted to forget I’d ever fallen for him in the first place.

“That’s annoyingly mature of you,” Stef observed.

“But I want him to suffer while I forget,” I added.

“That’s my girl,” he said. “So it’s a straightforward Ice Queen with a side of Swan.”

I managed a watery smile despite the gaping hole in my chest cavity.

“That sounds about right.”

“Keep an eye on your mailbox for an order from Sephora,” Stef said.

No amount of expensive cosmetics would make me feel better. But I also knew that this was Stef showing me how much he loved me, and I could let him.

“Thanks, Stef,” I whispered.

“Hey. Keep your chin up, Witty. You’ve got a kid to set an example for. Resilience isn’t a bad trait to pass on. Get out there and have some fun. Even if it doesn’t feel fun right away, just fake it till you make it.”

I had a feeling I’d be faking it for a very long time.

Knox Morgan wasn’t the kind of man you got over. Ever.