“You’ve been crazy busy this week and haven’t had a decent meal. I thought I’d fix that for you,” I tell her, and I’m treated to the sweetest smile. All right. So far, so good.

Looking at her plate, she then looks back up at me. “Umm, Knox, I really appreciate the gesture, but why are these noodles purple?”

Ah, the question that always gets asked when I make this dish. I love to watch people’s initial reactions when I serve it. “It’s called Drunken Spaghetti. You boil the noodles with a red wine, water mixture. The meat is pancetta sautéed with butter, black pepper, and a little bit of the liquid. Once the spaghetti's finishing boiling, you add it to the pan with the pancetta and add ricotta cheese, mixing well. It's pretty damn delicious if I do say so myself.”

“You lost me at cooking with wine. I never understood how people could waste it when cooking. Or at least I’ve never had a dish so amazing that it made wasting the wine worth it. I don’t think I’d even get any in the pot before I drank it all.”

Shaking my head, I’m not surprised she has an issue with cooking with wine, knowing how much she loves the stuff. Lexi protested the same way when I made it for her and Jace. “Just try it, Charlie. Trust me.”

She shrugs and gathers a good amount on her fork before pushing it into her mouth. After placing the fork between her now closed lips, she pulls it out slowly, getting every single bit of flavor. She chews, swallows, and immediately goes for another bite.

Mouth still full, she places her hand across the table and grips my wrist. “Oh my god, I take it back. This is so freaking good, Knox!” Or at least that’s what it sounds like, but I’m distracted by the moan that follows.

“Told you,” I grin at her and get a balled-up napkin thrown at my face. Yes, this is definitely going as planned.

She starts telling me about her day, and even though she’s been so busy, I can tell how much she loves her job. I love the way she’s so passionate about it—just like she is with her volunteering gig.

“How’s being back at work?” she asks, knowing that this is my first week back full time, which is probably another part of the reason we haven’t been able to spend much time together.

“It’s not too bad. I’ve mostly been playing catch-up with computer-based training and it’s boring as hell. CBTs for the win,” I say sarcastically. “I’ll be riding the desk for a while, but hopefully I’ll be back to my regular job in no time. I can’t wait to get back out into the field and do training exercises.”

“I feel your pain. I sit at a desk all day and am stir crazy by lunchtime. If it weren’t for the revolving door of students, I’d be bored out of my mind. Do you like it? Working with explosives, I mean,” she asks, and I realize we’ve never really talked about my usual job.”

“I love it. It’s what I was classed into when I graduated Boot Camp, and it’s all I’ve ever known. Sure, it can get scary as shit, but knowing that every single time I defuse a bomb means that lives are being saved makes it all worth it.”

“Are you anxious to get back? After the explosion and everything?” Charlie asks, and I take a moment to consider my response.

“I am. It’s what I know. What I love. I guess I could spend my time dwelling on what could’ve happened during the explosion, but instead I like to be thankful that I got out of there alive. I’m fortunate that I don’t remember all the details, so I don’t have the nightmares, the memories. But I’d still go out on that mission in a heartbeat, because at the end of the day, I’m a soldier, and I answer when duty calls.”

“That’s really admirable, Knox,” Charlie says, smiling softly. I’m beginning to think that we can get things back on track tonight.

I try to play it off as we finish the meal, making small talk, but once she starts to get up to clear the table, I stop her.

“So are we going to talk about this?” I ask, jumping right in. She freezes and then slides back into her chair.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” she says, looking down, not at me.

“I’m talking about what happened at the gym.” I have no idea why she’s avoiding the question, acting like she has no clue what I’m saying.

Looking up at me, she shakes her head. “What’s there to talk about, Knox? You did me a favor with Drew, so I was repaying it. No harm, no foul. I mean, sure, the kiss might have been a little much, but she definitely got a show out of it.”

Umm, what the fuck? She thinks that was all for show? I honestly have no idea what to say. I lean back in my chair, staring at her, wondering why she’d think I’d benefit from lying to Megan about who she is. She was there. There’s no way I was the only one who felt our chemistry the whole time we were in the ring, even before the kiss.

“Charlie, I wasn’t trying to put on a show,” I tell her, but she waves me off.

“No, seriously, Knox, it’s fine. I really didn’t mind, especially since Drew hasn’t bothered me after that night. It was extremely beneficial. I’m totally cool with it.”

“Char—” I start to protest, but she cuts me off.

“And hey, I’ll extend the same offer to you. Any time you need a pretend significant other, I’m your girl. Next time, keep your tongue to yourself,” she teases, rising from the table and gathering dishes while I sit here, mute, trying to wrap my mind around what she just said. Pretend? I don’t want it to be fucking pretend, and I thought that kiss proved that she didn’t either. As I guy who defuses bombs for a living, I’m wondering how in the hell I got my wires crossed.


Charlie


I’M TRYING to give him an easy out, but when he says it wasn’t a show, I want to believe it. It’s just that I’ve spent the last three days telling myself over and over again that we’re friends, only that, both with shitty exes. And I’m not about to play second fiddle to Megan—or even the memory of her. He’s apparently got too much pent-up anger and emotional baggage when it comes to her, and if she’s still in the picture, I know I can’t go there.

He’s watching me as I take the dishes to the sink. I’m wearing pajama shorts and a tiny camisole, and the way he’s looking at me makes me want to forget my decision to just keep it friendly. It’s an expression of confusion, mixed with what looks like desire, and it’s something I’m struggling not to notice.

After coming home from work, I expected just to plop down on the sofa and veg, never expecting to be greeted by Knox. The fact that he’s paid enough attention to notice my eating habits and then cook me a meal to make sure that I fully satisfied is probably the sweetest thing he’s done for me—and that’s not Knox. He doesn’t do sweet, so he says, and he doesn’t do relationships. Unfortunately for me, just like I told Kale, I don’t do casual. So it’s better to stay friends and live with the memory of that amazing kiss. Some Knox is better than no Knox, right? I’ll try to keep telling myself that.

When I finish the dishes, I realize he’s no longer in the kitchen. Checking the living room, I see he’s not there either. It’s not long before I find him on the back deck, wine in hand, feet up on a wooden post, looking completely relaxed, without a care in the world. Taking a moment to watch him, I’m wishing things could be different.

I grab my glass from the island. Right as I’m about to join him, I spot his guitar resting on the wall at the beginning of the hall. Taking it with me, I go out on to the deck and sit next to him.

“I never did get that serenade you promised me, you know?” I tell him, wanting more than anything to finally hear him play. After that night on the river, he never did end up playing for me, and it hasn’t come up again. I’ve heard him practicing over the last month and decide it’s finally time I get him to play for me.

Chuckling, he sets his glass down and grabs the guitar from my hands. “I was kind of hoping you’d forgotten that.”

“Nope. I’ve just been biding my time, letting you perfect your skills. I decided that I can’t wait any longer though.”

“You know, I played when I was younger, but I stopped once I joined the Army. I’m not sure why. I thought it’d be hard, but I picked it back up pretty easily. Remind me to thank your dad next time I see him. I’ve been having a lot of fun getting reacquainted with it.”

“I’ll let him know. Now stop stalling and play me something,” I tell him as I lean back in my chair, placing my own feet up on the wooden post as well. Closing my eyes, I wait for him to start.

The sound of slow chords begins to fill the air, and I’m unfamiliar with the notes. After an instrumental intro, I’m shocked when he starts to sing. His voice is beautiful, but as he continues, I’m completely floored. It’s an incredibly sad song about giving up on someone but wanting them to stop you, and the way he’s singing is…beyond words. It’s haunting, and emotional, and I can’t help but open my eyes to watch him.

His are closed as his long fingers strum the guitar, and he’s no longer leaning back in his chair. Instead, he’s sitting up straight, completely rigid, not moving save for his fingers and mouth. I’m completely entranced, and when he opens his eyes, ours lock and I can’t look away. It’s like he’s singing right to me, but the words don’t make sense. His voice slightly falters on the next line, and he finally looks away. Replaying the words, I can only imagine who they’re for, who he’s saying he loves, and to whom he’s saying goodbye.

Repeating the chorus two more times, he finishes the song, and I’m breathless. Why did he choose that song? Did Megan’s appearance really affect him that much? Or am I reading too much into it?