Chapter 16 CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 16
KNOX
I shouldn’t be thinking about her.
Not the way her eyes narrowed when I teased her.
Not the way she gritted her teeth when I called her princess like she wanted to stab me but didn’t.
And definitely not the way her body fit against mine in that damn elevator.
I ran a hand through my hair, eyes flicking to the rearview mirror where I could still see the faint shadow of her dorm building fading behind me. She hadn’t even looked back when she got out, just muttered, thanks for the ride, and disappeared like she couldn’t wait to erase me.
And yet—
Here I was, replaying every second of it.
I was halfway through changing the playlist on my phone when it buzzed.
Mom.
I frowned.
“Hey, Mom,” I said, starting to smile—
And then I heard it.
The sound that made my grip on the steering wheel go rigid.
She was crying.
“Mom?” My voice dropped. “What happened?”
Her breathing was ragged. “It’s fine, sweetheart. I’m okay—”
“What did he do?” My tone sharpened.
“Knox—please. Don’t come—”
The line went dead.
I stared at the phone, heart pounding in my ears, and the next thing I knew, I was reversing out of the parking lot like a man possessed.
By the time I reached the house, the lights were still on. The front door was half open, rain dripping from the porch like the whole place was bleeding quietly.
The smell of alcohol hit me before I even stepped in.
And then I saw her.
Mom. Sitting on the floor near the couch, crying into her hands.
“Mom…”
Her head jerked up, eyes wide. “Knox, no. Don’t—”
But my gaze had already found the shattered bottle on the floor, the stains on the rug, the faint bruise darkening along her arm.
My vision went red.
“Where is he?”
“Knox—”
“WHERE. IS. HE.”
She stood, stumbling slightly, and grabbed my arm. “Don’t. Please. He’s asleep. He’s drunk. You’ll only make it worse.”
Worse.
The word burned.
It was always worse when he woke up sober, when the guilt turned into more bottles and the bottles turned into excuses.
“Let me go,” I growled.
But she didn’t. She just shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I’m okay. Please, son. Just… don’t tonight.”
And maybe it was the way her voice cracked, or the way her hands trembled when she touched my face, but I felt my rage crumple into something heavier. Something useless.
I exhaled shakily and crouched in front of her. “You shouldn’t stay here, Mom.”
She smiled weakly. “Where would I go?”
“With me,” I said immediately.
“You’re in college, Knox.”
“I don’t care. I can handle it.”
She sighed and brushed my hair back. “You always say that.”
It took a while to convince her to rest. I helped her up, cleaned the floor, gathered the broken glass, poured the leftover alcohol down the sink.
Then I tucked her in, pulling the blanket to her shoulders like I used to when I was fifteen and pretending I could protect her.
She looked smaller when she slept.
Tired. Like she’d been fighting a war I couldn’t win for her.
I sat there for a long moment, my hand resting on her hair, and whispered, “One day, I’ll take you out of here. I promise.”
When I stepped out into the hallway, the house was quiet except for the rain.
I pulled out my phone and dialed the one person who could still sound like light in all this darkness.
“Knox?”
Her voice came through soft, cheerful — my sister.
“Hey, bug,” I said, forcing a smile she couldn’t see. “What time is it in Seoul?”
“Almost morning,” she said, giggling. “You sound tired. Did you pull another all-nighter?”
“You could say that,” I muttered. “How’s school?”
“Good! I aced my midterms.”
“That’s my girl.”
“Mom okay?” she asked carefully.
I hesitated. “Yeah. She’s fine.”
She hummed. “You’re lying.”
I exhaled a small laugh. “You’re getting too smart for me.”
“I’ve always been smarter,” she teased, and I could almost see her grin.
“True,” I said quietly. “Stay that way, okay?”
“I will. Don’t worry about me, Knox. Just…” her voice softened, “take care of Mom. And yourself.”
“I’m trying.”
We talked a bit more — about classes, about her new dorm friend who apparently snored like a dying cat — and then she yawned.
“I’ll text you tomorrow, okay?” she said.
“Yeah.” I smiled faintly. “Sleep well, bug.”
“Love you, idiot.”
“Love you too.”
When I hung up, the silence returned.
The kind that seeps into your bones.
I needed air.
Or maybe I needed to not exist for a while.
I stepped outside. The rain was heavier now, falling in sheets against my skin.
I got into my car without thinking. Just drove.
No music. No direction. Just the sound of rain hammering against the windshield and my heartbeat trying to catch up.
And before I knew it—
I was there.
Yael’s dorm.
I don’t even know what the hell I was doing.
She wasn’t that special. Right?
Except she kind of was.
There was something about her. The sharp edges, the quiet defiance, the way she looked at me like she’d rather stab me than talk to me.
I killed the engine, staring at the building through the rain. A few lights were still on. Maybe hers.
My fingers itched to text her. Something stupid, maybe. Can’t sleep? or You left your attitude in my car.
But I didn’t.
Instead, I leaned back, closed my eyes, and tried not to imagine what she’d look like if she saw me sitting out here like some lunatic.
After a while, I sighed, started the car again, and turned around.
Back to my dorm.
Back to pretending everything was fine.
By the time I got in, I was soaked through. I dropped my jacket on the couch and stared at the ceiling.
The image of my mom’s bruises burned behind my eyes. The sound of my sister’s laugh echoed right
after.
And somewhere in between, Yael’s voice threaded through it all — sharp, alive, too real.
I let out a dry laugh. “You’re losing it, Knox.”
But maybe I already had.