My mom and Dominic leave for dinner at seven and the front door hasn’t finished closing before Knox is in my doorway.
He’s been different since the dinner table – since his eyes snapped to Dominic’s hand on the back of my neck and something behind his expression rearranged itself into a configuration I haven’t seen before. He’s been watching me all day with this focused intensity that goes past his usual possessiveness into something more urgent, like he’s running a calculation and the answer keeps coming back the same.
“Come here,” he says, and I go because my body has been trained to respond to his voice the way plants respond to light, and he takes my hand – which is new because he doesn’t usually hold my hand, he usually GRABS things – and leads me down the hallway to his room and cl
