Things We Never Got Over (Knockemout Book 1)

Knox: Look. I know I could have handled things differently. But trust me. It’s better this way. If you or Waylay need anything, I want to know.

Knox: Liza probably already told you, but the security company is installing the alarm at the cottage Saturday. What time is Waylay’s soccer game?

Knox: Are you okay?

Knox: Just because we’re not together doesn’t mean I don’t still want you and Waylay to be safe.

Knox: You can’t avoid me forever.

Knox: Can’t we be fucking adults about this? It’s a small fucking town.

We’re gonna run into each other sooner or later.

I PRIED open one bleary eye and peered at my phone screen.

Satisfied it wasn’t a certain dead-to-me Morgan brother, I swiped to answer. “What?” I croaked.

“Wakey wakey, Witty,” came Stef’s cheery voice from half a world away.

I gave a muffled groan in response and rolled over.

I had the covers pulled over my head in a juvenile attempt to block out the entire world. Unfortunately, it had the unintended consequence of also surrounding me with the scent of him. Sleeping in a bed we’d shared while I’d fallen for the farce was not conducive to anything but a downward spiral.

If I was going to survive this, I needed to burn these sheets and buy Liza a new set.

“Judging from your effusive greeting, I’m guessing you haven’t yet dragged your Definitely Getting Over Him Today Ass out of bed yet,” Stef surmised.

I grunted.

“You’re lucky I’m not on the same continent as you right now because your time is up,” he chirped.

“What time?”

“Your ‘woe is me, I miss my stupid hot fake boyfriend’ time. It’s been five days. The acceptable mourning period is over. You are officially being reborn as New Naomi.”

Being reborn sounded like a lot of work.

“Can’t I just wither away as Old Naomi?” Old Naomi had spent the last few days putting on a fake smile for Waylay and library patrons, then spending a few hours a day half-heartedly trying to clean up the wreckage in the cottage. All while avoiding thinking about Knox.

I was exhausted.

“Not an option. It is six thirty a.m. your time. Your day starts now.”

“Why are you so mean?” I groaned.

“I’m your mean fairy godfather. You have a transformation to begin, my little caterpillar.”

“I don’t want to be a butterfly. I want to smother in my cocoon.”

“Tough shit. If you don’t get out of bed in the next ten seconds, I’m bringing in the big guns.”

“I’m out,” I lied.

He said something derisive in French. “In case you need a translator, that was French for bullshit. Now, I want you to get your lying ass out of bed and go take a shower because Liza reports that your hair is greasier than the deep fryer at a sports bar on wing night. Then I want you to open that Sephora order I sent you and snap the fuck out of this funk.”

“I like funks.”

“You do not. You like game plans and to do lists. I’m giving you both.”

“Having friends who know you really well is overrated,” I complained to my pillow.

“Okay. Fine. But I want it on record that you made me do this.”

“Do what?”

“You have an eleven-year-old girl looking up to you. Do you really want to teach her that when a boy hurts your feelings, you give up on life?”

I sat up. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Why can’t I wallow?”

It was more than hurt feelings, and he knew it. Knox had warned me.

He’d told me not to fall for him, not to mistake his actions for real feelings.

And I’d still fallen for him. That made me an idiot. At least with Warner, he’d tried to hide his true self from me.

It was an excuse, not a great one, but an excuse all the same.

But there was no such excuse with Knox.

I loved him. For real loved him. Loved him enough that I wasn’t sure I could survive the anguish of being tossed aside.

“Because all that ‘I’m such an idiot’ and ‘how could I fall for him’ negative self-talk is a waste of time and energy. It’s also setting a shitty example for Waylay, who’s had enough shitty examples to last a lifetime. Get your ass out of bed, take a shower, and get ready to show Waylay how to burn an asshole’s life to the ground.”

My feet hit the floor. “You’re really good at this pep talk thing.”

“You deserve better, Witty. I know somewhere deep down you don’t think so. But you deserve a man who’s going to put you first.”

“I love you.”

“Love you too, babe. I gotta go. But I want a post-shower, makeover selfie. And I’m emailing you your game plan for the day.”

FROM: Stef

To: Naomi

Subject: New Naomi Day One

1. Get your ass out of bed.

2. Shower.

3. Makeup.

4. Hair.

5. Wardrobe. (I know how much you like checking things off your list) 6. Breakfast of champions.

7. Waylay’s soccer practice. Smile. Light up the damn field with your gracious beauty.

8. Host a spontaneous social gathering. Invite friends, family, and Nash (that part is very important). Look amazing (also very important). Have an actual good time (most important) or fake it till you make it.

9. Go to bed smug.

10. Rinse. Repeat.

WITH THE SATISFACTION of four items already crossed off my to do list, I ventured downstairs. The rest of the house was still silent.

Stef knew me too well. And it really was easier to fake a positive attitude when I looked good on the outside.

There was a fresh pot of coffee waiting for me. I poured generously into a cheery red mug and studied the kitchen while I sipped.

The room had taken on a new life since the first time I’d been invited inside. It felt like most of the house had. The curtains had not only been opened but washed, ironed, and rehung. Morning sun streamed through clean glass.

Years of dust and grime had been scraped away, cabinets and drawers of junk purged. Bedrooms closed up for nearly two decades were now full of life. The kitchen, dining room, and sun room had become the heart of a home full of people.

Together, we’d breathed life back into the space that had gone far too long without.

I took my coffee into the sun room and stood at the windows, watching the creek catch fallen leaves and usher them downstream.

The loss was still there.

The holes left behind by Liza’s daughter and husband hadn’t magically been filled. But it felt to me like there was more surrounding those holes now. Saturday soccer games. Family dinners. Movie nights when everyone talked too much to hear what was happening on-screen. Lazy evenings spent grilling dinner and playing in the creek.

Dogs. Kids. Wine. Dessert. Game nights.

We’d built something special here around Liza and her loneliness.

Around me and my mistakes. This wasn’t the end. Mistakes were meant to be learned from, overcome. They weren’t meant to destroy.

Resilience.

In my opinion, Waylay was already the epitome of resilience. She’d dealt with a childhood of instability and insecurity and was learning to trust the adults in her life. Maybe it was a little easier because she’d never let herself down the way I had. I admired her for that.

I supposed I could learn from her example on that.

I heard the shuffle of slippered feet punctuated by the excited tippy-tapping of dog nails on tile.

“Morning, Aunt Naomi. What’s for breakfast?” Waylay yawned from the kitchen.

I left my morning moping and returned to the kitchen. “Morning. What are you hungry for?”

She shrugged and settled on a stool at the island. Her blonde hair was standing up on one side of her head and squished down on the other. She was wearing pink camouflage pajamas and fluffy slippers that Randy and Kitty tried to steal and hide in their dog beds at least once a day.

“Um. How about cheesy eggs?” she said. “Wow. You look nice.”

“Thanks,” I said, reaching for a pan.

“Where’s Knox?”

Waylay’s question felt like a blade to the heart.

“He moved back to his cabin,” I said carefully.

Waylay rolled her eyes. “I know that. Why? I thought things were good with you guys? You were kissing all the time and laughing a lot.”

My instinct was to lie. To protect her. After all, she was just a kid. But I’d done so much protecting already, and it just kept blowing up in my face.

“There’s a couple of things we need to talk about,” I told her as I gathered the butter and eggs from the fridge.

“I only told Donnie Pacer that he was a dickwaffle because he pushed Chloe and told her she was a shithead loser,” Waylay said defensively. “And I didn’t use the F word because I’m not allowed to.”

I stood up with a carton of eggs in my hand and blinked. “You know what? We’ll get back to that in a minute.”

But my niece wasn’t ready to give up her defense. “Knox said it’s good to stand up for people. That it’s up to the strong ones to take care of the ones who need protecting. He said I’m one of the strong ones.”

Crap.

I swallowed around the lump in my throat and blinked back the tears that burned my eyes, threatening to ruin my mascara.

This time the grief wasn’t just for me. It was for a little girl with a hero who didn’t want either one of us.

“That’s true,” I said. “And it’s a good thing you’re one of the strong ones because I have to tell you some hard stuff.”

“Is my mom coming back?” Waylay whispered.

I didn’t know how to answer that. So I started somewhere else instead.

“The cottage isn’t infested with bugs,” I blurted out. Randy the beagle jumped at my legs and peered up at me with soulful brown eyes. I leaned down to ruffle his ears.

“It isn’t?”

“No, honey. I told you that because I didn’t want you to worry. But it turns out it’s better for you to know what’s going on. Someone broke in.

They made a huge mess and took some things. Chief Nash thinks they were looking for something. We don’t know what they were looking for or if they found it.”

Waylay was staring down at the counter.

“That’s why we moved in here with Liza and your grandparents.”

“What about Knox?”

I swallowed hard. “We broke up.”

The finger she was using to trace the grain in the counter stilled.

“Why’d you break up?”

Damn kids and their unanswerable questions.

“I’m not sure, honey. Sometimes people just want different things.”

“Well, what did he want? Weren’t we good enough for him?”

I covered her hand with mine and squeezed. “I think we’re more than good enough for him, and maybe that’s what scared him.”

“You should have told me.”

“I should have,” I agreed.

“I’m not some baby who’s going to freak out, you know,” she said.

“I know. Out of the two of us, I’m a much bigger baby.”

That earned me the smallest of smiles. “Was it Mom?”

“Was what your mom?”

“Did Mom break in? She does that kind of stuff.”

This was why I didn’t have honest conversations with people. They asked questions that required even more honesty.

I blew out a breath. “I’m honestly not sure. It’s possible. Is there anything you can think of that she’d be looking for?”

She shrugged those little girl shoulders that had already carried more weight than was fair. “Dunno. Maybe something worth a lot of money.”

“Well, whether it was your mom or not, you don’t have anything to worry about. Liza’s having a security system installed today.”

She nodded, fingers back to tracing patterns on the counter.

“You wanna tell me how you’re feeling about all this?” I asked.

She leaned down to scratch Kitty on her head. “Dunno. Bad, I guess. And mad.”

“Me too,” I agreed.

“Knox left us. I thought he liked us. Really liked us.”

My heart broke all over again, and I vowed that I would make Knox Morgan pay. I went to her and wrapped an arm around her. “He did, honey. But sometimes people get scared when they start to care too much.”

She grunted. “I guess. But I can still be mad at him, right?”

I brushed her hair out of her eyes. “Yes. You can. Your feelings are real and valid. Don’t let anyone tell you you shouldn’t feel the way you feel. Okay?”

“Yeah. Okay.”

“So, how do you feel about having a party tonight if Liza says it’s okay?”

I asked, giving her another squeeze.

Waylay perked up. “What kind of party?”

“I was thinking about a bonfire with apple cider and s’mores,” I said, cracking an egg into a glass mixing bowl.

“That sounds cool. Can I invite Chloe and Nina?”

I loved that she had friends and a home that she wanted to share with them.

“Of course. I’ll check in with their parents today.”

“Maybe we can have Liza pick some of the country music Knox and Nash’s mom liked,” she suggested.

“That’s a great idea, Way. Speaking of parties…”

Waylay heaved a sigh and looked up at the ceiling.

“Your birthday is coming up,” I reminded her. Between Liza, my parents, and me, we already had a closet full of wrapped gifts. We’d been badgering her about her big day for weeks, but she’d remained annoyingly noncommittal. “Have you figured out how you want to celebrate?”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh my gosh, Aunt Naomi! I told you nine million times I don’t like birthdays. They’re dumb and disappointing and lame.”

Despite everything, I smiled.

“Not to guilt-trip you, but your grandma will go into hysterics if you don’t at least let her bake you a cake.”

I saw the calculating look on her face. “What kind of cake?”

I booped her nose with a spatula. “That’s the best part about birthdays.

You get to pick.”

“Huh. I’ll think about it.”

“That’s all I ask.”

I had just poured the eggs into the skillet when I felt arms around my waist and a face press into my back.

“I’m sorry Knox was a douchewaffle, Aunt Naomi,” Waylay said, her voice muffled.

My throat tightened as I squeezed her hands with my own. It was such a new, fragile thing, this affection she showed me in moments when I least expected it. I was afraid I’d do or say the wrong thing and scare her off. “I am too. But we’ll be okay. We’ll be better than okay,” I promised.

She released me. “Hey. Those jerks didn’t steal my new jeans with the pink flowers when they broke in, did they?”

FI: I don’t know what’s going on between you two. But Knox just offered me $1,000 to put you on the schedule tonight since you called in sick your last two shifts. I can either split it with you or tell him to fuck off. Your call!

Me: Sorry. I can’t. I’m hosting a bonfire tonight and you’re invited.

Fi: Fuck yeah! Can I bring my annoying family?

Me: I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.