Chapter 113: Got Bored

NORA’S POV

The Saturday afternoon rush at Rusty’s Diner was always loud, but today the noise level was off the charts.

Dishes clattered against the stainless steel prep counters. The smell of frying onions, sizzled bacon, and fresh coffee filled the warm air. Every single booth was occupied by Briar students, townies, and weekend hockey fans rehashing Friday night’s game.

Mounted in the high corner above the counter, the diner’s small television was playing ECAC sports highlights on an endless loop.

I paused between tables with an empty coffee pot in my hand, glancing up at the screen.

The sports anchor was breaking down the third period of our 3–2 victory over Boston University. The broadcast cut to the replay of Colin Oliver blindsiding Knox from behind, the crash against the boards, and Knox dropping motionless to the ice.

A familiar knot tightened in my stomach at the sight of it.

The footage skipped forward, showing Jake burying the winning one-timer with twelve seconds on the clock, followed by Knox waving off the emergency stretcher and skating off the ice under his own power while the arena erupted in a standing ovation.

"If you stare at that screen any harder, Bennett, you’re going to burn a hole right through the glass."

Denise’s raspy voice broke my concentration. She slid two ceramic mugs of black coffee onto the pickup counter with a loud clack.

I turned around, wiping down the laminate counter with a damp rag. "He took a terrible hit, Denise. The league is holding a disciplinary hearing on Monday."

"Good," Denise said, flipping a row of burger patties on the flat-top grill with a flick of her spatula. "Half the campus watched you sprint down the tunnel like an Olympic track star in an oversized jersey. So tell me... did your hockey giant survive the night?"

A small smile tugged at the corners of my lips.

"His head is intact," I said, keeping my voice steady. "He has a mild concussion and a bruised shoulder, but he’s resting."

"Good," Denise said, sliding two hot baskets onto the pickup shelf. "Because the way you charged past security on live television, Rusty was taking bets on whether you’d even show up for your shift today."

"I wouldn’t leave you hanging on a busy Saturday, Denise."

"Damn right you wouldn’t," Denise said with a smirk. "Now stop daydreaming and take those two bacon doubles to table four before the grease congeals."

"On it," I replied, grabbing the plastic baskets with a grin.

The next hour flew by in a blur of orders, refills, and scraped plates.

By five-thirty, the dinner crowd was finally thinning out to a manageable hum. My feet were throbbing inside my worn sneakers, and my shoulders were stiff from carrying loaded trays all afternoon.

Knox had promised that Bear would pick me up at six o’clock outside the diner so we could eat dinner together at the SinBin. I checked the clock on the back wall, eager for my shift to end.

Then the brass bell above the front door chimed.

A blast of cold air swept into the diner, followed by two massive silhouettes filling the doorway. Every eye near the counter turned toward the entrance. Whispers broke out across the dining room within seconds.

"Holy shit... is that Sheridan?"

"Look at him. Dude got knocked cold last night and he’s already walking around."

I froze in the middle of the aisle, holding an empty tray against my hip. Knox stepped fully inside the diner, flanked by Bear Kowalski.

Knox was dressed in a dark purple Briar hockey hoodie, gray sweatpants, and a pair of dark sunglasses indoors to shield his eyes from the diner’s bright fluorescent lights. Even with the bruising along his jaw and his slow gait, he looked commanding and impossible to ignore.

Bear walked half a step behind him like a six-foot-five bodyguard, grinning cheerfully at the shocked faces around them.

Knox didn’t look at a single patron. His gaze swept the dining room until his dark sunglasses locked directly on me.

The hard line of his mouth softened into that familiar, arrogant smirk. He walked straight past the front counter and headed for the corner booth in the far back.

Booth number six. Our booth.

I dumped my tray on the bus station and marched over to the table, hands planted on my hips.

"What on earth are you doing here?" I demanded in a hushed whisper. "You have a concussion! You’re supposed to be in bed in a dark room resting your brain!"

Knox slid into the vinyl booth, propping his injured left arm carefully on the table. He reached up with his good right hand and slid his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, letting his slate-gray eyes look up at me.

"My private nurse walked out at noon," Knox said in a low voice. "The SinBin was too quiet. And I got bored."

"I tried to make him stay, Nora," Bear said earnestly, squeezing his giant frame into the bench across from Knox. "I swear I did. But he threatened to walk three miles down College Avenue in the freezing wind if I didn’t drive him."

I glared at Knox, though my heart was doing frantic acrobatics in my chest. "You are completely out of your mind."

"I told you I was picking you up for dinner," Knox murmured, his gray eyes holding mine. "I just got here early."

"I still have fifteen minutes left on my shift."

"I can wait," Knox said. "Bring me a water. And bring Bear whatever has the most calories on the menu so he stops whining."

"Chili cheese fries with extra bacon," Bear piped up instantly.

I sighed, shaking my head with exasperation, but I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face. "Fine. Sit still and don’t move."

I walked back to the counter, poured two tall glasses of ice water, and punched in Bear’s order on the terminal. Denise glanced over at the corner booth, shook her head with an amused grin, and slid two red baskets of fries onto the shelf.

I carried the drinks and the food back to booth six, setting the water down in front of Knox and sliding the loaded fries toward Bear.

"Thank you, Nora, you’re an angel," Bear mumbled around a mouthful of melted cheddar.

I sat down on the edge of the booth beside Knox, checking the wall clock. "Ten minutes. Then I’ll clock out and take you back to bed."

Knox didn’t answer with words.

Instead, he reached across the table with his good right hand. In plain view of the entire diner, he caught my fingers and laced them firmly through his own.

A couple of sophomores sitting at the counter nudged each other, staring openly at Knox holding my hand.

"Knox," I murmured, my cheeks warming slightly. "People are staring at us."

Knox didn’t even blink. He gave my fingers a firm, deliberate squeeze, resting our joined hands openly on the tabletop.

"Let them stare," Knox said quietly so only I could hear him. "I spent weeks pretending this was a game, Nora. I’m done pretending."

A sweet, aching warmth spread through my chest, chasing away all the exhaustion from the six-hour shift. I looked at our laced fingers, feeling the solid, grounding heat of his palm against mine.

Before I could say another word, Knox’s phone buzzed loudly against the tabletop.

The screen illuminated with an incoming call.

The caller ID displayed two words in bold letters: COACH BRENNAN.

Bear paused with a fry halfway to his mouth. "Coach? Why is he calling you on a Saturday evening?"

Knox frowned, pulling his phone closer with his free hand. He tapped the green answer button and brought it to his ear. "Yeah, Coach?"

He didn’t even have to put it on speaker.

Coach Brennan’s voice exploded through the earpiece so loud that every word rang clear across our booth.

"Sheridan! Where the hell are you right now?!"

Knox sat up straighter, his jaw hardening. "I’m at Rusty’s with Nora. What happened?"

"All hell just broke loose in the athletic director’s office," Brennan snarled, breathing hard. "Your father just dropped a legal bomb on this entire university."

The air in the booth instantly turned ice cold.

"What did he do?" Knox asked.

"Sheridan Global’s corporate legal team just served Athletic Director Pierce and the ECAC commissioner with an emergency lawsuit," Brennan barked. "They’re suing Briar University for gross medical negligence!"

I gasped, my hand tightening in Knox’s grip.

"Negligence?" Knox repeated in disbelief. "Doc Campbell cleared me under standard protocol last night. I stayed at the house."

"Well, your father doesn’t give a damn about that," Brennan replied. "His lawyers are claiming Briar failed its basic duty of care by not admitting you to a hospital emergency room for full trauma scans immediately after a blackout hit! They filed for an emergency court injunction to revoke Briar’s medical clearance, pull you off our active roster, and mandate an immediate transfer to Garrison’s private sports medical facility by Monday morning."

Knox’s knuckles turned white against the phone.

"He can’t do that," Knox said through clenched teeth. "I’m twenty-one years old. He doesn’t own my medical rights."

"He owns the deepest pockets in New England hockey, Knox!" Brennan replied. "Pierce is terrified of the liability. If the athletic department settles to avoid a multi-million-dollar lawsuit, Knox... they will pull your clearance. Your season with Briar is over."