Things We Never Got Over (Knockemout Book 1)

I wasn’t going to admit it, but the ice princess routine was killing me. It had been five days since I’d told Naomi the truth. Since I’d ended things to spare her feelings. And I was fucking miserable.

The relief I’d expected from ending things never came. Instead, I felt sick and uneasy. Almost guilty. It felt worse than my first over-thirty hangover.

I wanted things to go back to the way they’d been before Naomi showed up with fucking daisies in her hair. But they couldn’t. Not with her in town avoiding me.

It was no small feat, given that she lived with my grandmother. She’d called off from her shifts at Honky Tonk. I’d expected relief that I didn’t have to face her, but the longer she went without answering my texts or calls, the more uneasy I felt.

She should have gotten over this by now. Hell. I should have gotten over this by now.

“Your five o’clock canceled,” Stasia said when I returned to Whiskey Clipper from my late lunch break spent at Dino’s, getting glares and cold pizza that I didn’t even feel like eating.

She and Jeremiah were cleaning up for closing.

“Seriously?” It was the third client to cancel on me this week. Two of them had rescheduled with Jeremiah and sat in his chair tossing me judgmental looks. None of them had the balls to say anything. But they didn’t need to. I took enough of a beating from the Honky Tonk girls.

“Guess you must have pissed them off somehow,” Stasia mused.

“It’s no one’s goddamn business who I see or don’t see,” I said, dunking the comb back in the alcohol and stowing my scissors.

“That’s the thing about a small town,” Jeremiah said. “Everyone’s business is everyone’s business.”

“Yeah? Well, everyone can kiss my ass.”

“He definitely seems much happier since he got out of that terrible relationship,” Stasia said. She pretended to scratch her nose with her middle finger.

“Who signs your paychecks?” I reminded her.

“Some things are worth more than money.”

I didn’t need this abuse. I had shit to do. A life to live. And these assholes could just get on with forgetting all about me and Naomi.

“I’m goin’ to Honky Tonk,” I said.

“Have a great night,” Jeremiah called after me. I threw a middle finger in his direction.

Instead of the bar, I ducked into my office. It didn’t feel like a sanctuary.

It felt like a prison. I’d spent more time locked in here this week than I had the previous month. I’d never been this caught up on paperwork. Or this disconnected from what was going on with my businesses.

“Why the hell does anyone in this town give a damn who I date or don’t date?” I muttered to myself.

I picked up the rent check for one of the apartments upstairs. The tenant had also included a “You fucked up” note scrawled on a sticky note.

I was starting to worry that everyone else was right. That I’d done the wrong thing. And that sat about as well with me as the idea of wearing a suit and tie every day for the rest of my life.

I liked freedom. That’s why I owned my own businesses. That lottery ticket had bought me stability and freedom. Although, I supposed running my own businesses also sometimes felt like a thousand fucking zip ties lashing me to responsibility. But it was a responsibility I chose.

I could run my businesses without worrying about other people… Well, except for the ones I employed. And served.

Fuck.

I needed to get out of my head.

I headed down the hall and let myself into Honky Tonk. It was early still for a Friday, but the music was loud, and I could smell wings cooking in the kitchen. It felt like home. Even though my eyes did a quick scan of the bar, looking for Naomi. She wasn’t there and the disappointment I felt cut like a goddamn knife.

Silver and Max were both behind the bar. Fi was shooting the shit with Wraith. All three of them looked at me.

“Evening,” I said, testing the waters.

“Boo!” they chorused. Silver and Max were giving me the thumbs-down.

Fi was giving me one thumbs-down and one middle finger. The other server, Brad, a new hire brought on to even out the estrogen, refused to make eye contact with me.

“Seriously?”

The handful of patrons snickered.

“I could fire every last one of you,” I reminded them.

They crossed their arms in unison. “I’d like to see you try,” Max said.

“Yeah. I’m sure you’d bartend and serve and manage just fine all by yourself on a Saturday night,” Silver said. Her nose ring moved with the flare of her nostrils.

Fuck.

I knew when I wasn’t wanted.

Fine. I could go home and enjoy the peace and quiet of single life. Again.

Maybe tonight it wouldn’t feel so fucking empty. I’d get used to it.

“Fine. I’m leaving,” I said.

“Good,” said Max.

“Bye,” said Silver.

“Fuck off,” Fi said. “I’m leaving too.”

“Fine. Whatever.” I’d go home and work out a new schedule where these three never shared the bar again, I decided. Even if it meant hiring five more people. I’d hire guys who didn’t get periods and didn’t give me shit.

I fantasized about that life on the leisurely ride I took on my bike, winding around Knockemout and beyond before finally heading home. After all, I didn’t have someone waiting for me. Someone to answer to. I could do what I wanted. Which was exactly what I wanted out of life.

I was so distracted by reminding myself how great my life was without Naomi that I almost missed the vehicles at Liza’s.

For a second, I panicked, wondering if something had happened. If there’d been another break-in or worse.

Then I heard the music, the laughter.

I drove by slowly, hoping for a glimpse of her. No such luck. I parked my bike in my driveway and was headed for the front door when the tang of bonfire hit my nostrils.

If Liza wanted to have a party and not tell me that was her business I decided, letting myself inside.

Waylon attacked, his paws scrabbling at my jeans as he barked and moaned about how hungry he was since his afternoon snack.

“Yeah, yeah. Come on. Pee break first, then dinner.”

I went straight to the kitchen and opened the back door. The dog bulleted out between my legs.

He didn’t stop in his usual pee stop. His stumpy legs were too busy galloping toward Liza’s house.

I could see the fire from my vantage point. Someone had built a bonfire next to the creek. There were tables with food, camp chairs, and over a dozen people milling around, looking like they were having a great time.

Liza’s dogs, Randy and Kitty, broke away from the food tables to greet Waylon. I spotted Waylay, her blonde hair under a bright pink hat that I bet Amanda had knit for her. Her friends Nina and Chloe were horsing around in the side yard. The pang in my chest took me by surprise. Waylay dropped to her knees in the grass and gave Waylon a good scruffing. He rolled onto his back in ecstasy.

I rubbed my hand absently over my chest, wondering if it was indigestion from the shitty cold pizza.

Headlights slashed across the yard as another car pulled in. A minivan that I recognized. Fi, her husband, and their kids piled out carrying camp chairs, covered dishes, and a six-pack.

Great. My own family and now my employees were taking her side in all of this. This was why I needed a thousand acres far away from here.

Then I saw her.

Naomi by firelight.

She wore those tight leggings that showed off every inch of her mile-long legs. Boots with the girlie fur trim. A thick, cropped sweater under an insulated vest. Her hair was a mass of curls that glowed amber in the firelight. She was wearing a knit hat just like Waylay’s, only in a deep red.

She was smiling. Laughing. Glowing.

The pang in my chest became a physical ache, and I wondered if I should call a cardiologist. This wasn’t normal. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

I ended things before they got too sticky and felt nothing but relief immediately after. If I ever ran into one of my conquests again, which was rare, it was easy. Pleasant. I never promised anything, and they never expected anything.

But this time, despite my best efforts, there had been expectations.

Though she didn’t look like she was suffering. She was next to the creek, standing close to my asshole brother, having what looked like an intimate chat.

Her gloved hand reached out and clutched his arm.

My fists clenched at my sides. Red filtered into the corners of my vision.

My brother hadn’t wasted a goddamn second, had he?

It wasn’t a conscious decision to go to her, but my feet had a mind of their own. I strode across the grass toward the happy little group with destruction in mind.

I didn’t want her with him. I didn’t want her with anyone.

I couldn’t stand the idea of seeing her stand next to him, let alone whatever else they were doing. Fuck.

Liza J called to me, and Amanda flashed me a pitying smile as I marched through the festivities.

“You two didn’t waste any goddamn time, did you?” I snapped when I caught them on the other side of the fire.

Nash had the audacity to laugh right in my face.

But Naomi was something else. The easy smile on her face disappeared, and when she looked at me, it wasn’t an ice princess I saw, ready to freeze me out. It was a woman on fire ready to burn me alive.

The relief was swift and overwhelming. The tightness in my chest loosened by millimeters. Freezing me out meant she didn’t care. But that fire I saw in those gorgeous hazel eyes told me she hated my guts.

That was better than cold disinterest any day.

Nash took a step forward, effectively putting himself between me and Naomi, which only served to piss me off even more.

“You got a problem?” he asked me.

I had a 6’3” problem with a few bullet holes in it.

“Problem? With you helping yourself to my leftovers? Nah. Better she doesn’t go to waste.”

I was such a fucking asshole and I’d gone way too far. I deserved the beating Nash was about to throw me. Part of me wanted it. Wanted the physical punishment to take the place of the emotional shit storm that was ripping me apart inside.

I couldn’t think straight with her this close. This close, and I couldn’t touch her. Couldn’t reach out and lay claim to what I’d thrown away.

Nash’s fist pulled back, but before he could let it fly, another body stepped between us.

“You’re a child throwing a temper tantrum,” Naomi snapped, inches from me. “And you’re not invited. So go home.”

“Daisy,” I said, reaching for her on autopilot.

Yet another body wedged itself between us.

“If you don’t want to go down in history as the dumbest asshole in this town, I suggest you step the hell back,” Sloane said.

She was glaring up at me like I’d just decked Santa Claus at a library luncheon.

“Get out of my way, Sloane,” I snarled in her face.

Then there was a hand on my chest, and I was being shoved back hard.

“Wrong target, friend.” Lucian, looking more casual in jeans and a fleece than I’d seen him in a decade, fisted his hands in my coat.

The rage in his eyes clued me in that I was skating on thin ice. I could take my brother, especially when he was one-armed. But I wasn’t stupid enough to think I could take on Nash and Lucian and live to tell the tale.

“I don’t need your protection, you big, rich idiot,” Sloane snapped at Lucian.

He ignored her in favor of backing me away from the fire. Away from my family. From my stupid dog who had his snout in what looked like a casserole dish of hot dogs.

“Let me go, Luce,” I warned him.

“I will when you’re not determined to go down and take innocent bystanders with you.”

Interesting. He was pissed not because I’d come at Nash and Naomi but because I’d gotten in Sloane’s face.

“Thought you couldn’t stand her,” I taunted.

Lucian gave me another shove, and I stumbled backwards.

“Christ, Knox. You don’t have to be such an asshole all the time.”

“Born that way,” I shot back.

“Bullshit. What you show to the world is a choice. And right now, you’re making the stupid choice.”

“I did the right thing, man.”

Lucian produced a cigarette and a lighter. “Keep telling yourself that if it helps you sleep at night.”

“I told her not to get attached. I warned her.” I looked over Lucian’s shoulder and saw Naomi standing next to the fire, her back to me. Nash’s arm around her.

My chest tightened again, and that pang was a goddamn knife wound now.

Maybe I’d told her not to get attached, but I hadn’t done myself the same courtesy. I never thought it was something I had to worry about.

But Naomi Witt, runaway bride and compulsive cleaner, had her hooks in me.

“I did the right thing,” I said again as if repeating it would make it true.

With his eyes on me, Lucian lit his cigarette. “It never occurred to you that the right thing would have been to be the man your father couldn’t be?”

Fuck. That one landed like a bell ringer.

“Go fuck yourself, Lucy.”

“Try to unfuck yourself, Knox.” And with that, he wandered back to the fire, leaving me alone in the dark.

I saw a flash of pink out of the corner of my eye and found Waylay standing a few feet away from me. Waylon sat at her feet.

“Hey, Way,” I said, suddenly feeling like the biggest, stupidest asshole on the planet.

“Hey, Knox.”

“How’s it going?”

She shrugged, those blue eyes fixed on me, her face blank.

“How did soccer practice go? I meant to swing by but—”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to pretend. Aunt Naomi ’n me are used to people not wanting us.”

“Way, that’s not fucking fair. That’s not why things didn’t work out between your aunt and me.”

“Whatever. You probably shouldn’t swear in front of kids. They might learn something from you.”

Ouch.

“I’m serious, kid. You two are too good for me. Sooner or later, you both would have figured it out. You deserve better.”

She looked down at the toes of her boots. Her little heart charm

glimmered against her laces, and I realized she wasn’t wearing the sneakers I gave her. That hurt too. “If you really thought that, you’d be working hard to be good enough. Not dumping us like we’re trash.”

“I never said you were trash.”

“You never said much of anything, did you?” she said. “Now, leave Aunt Naomi alone. You’re right. She deserves better than some guy who isn’t smart enough to see how awesome she is.”

“I know how awesome she is. I know how awesome you are,” I argued.

“Not awesome enough to stay though,” she said. The glare she sent me was years beyond eleven in maturity. I hated myself for giving her one more reason to doubt that she was anything but the smart, beautiful, badass she was.

“Waylay! Come on,” Nina called, holding a giant bag of marshmallows aloft.

“You should go,” Waylay told me. “You make Aunt Naomi sad, and I don’t like that.”

“You gonna put field mice in my house?” I asked, hoping a joke would repair some of the damage.

“Why bother? There’s no point in getting revenge on someone too dumb to care.”

She turned and started toward the fire, then stopped again. “I’m keeping your dog,” she said. “Come on, Waylon.”

I watched a kid that I not only liked, but respected, wander off toward the party with my own damn dog. Naomi greeted Waylay with a one-armed hug, and the two of them turned their backs on me.

To be contrary, I snagged one of the hot dogs off the table and a beer. I gave my grandmother a half-assed salute and then headed back to my place alone. When I got there, I threw both in the trash.