Chapter 122: New Deal

NORA’S POV

Nora: Is Knox at the SinBin?

I had texted Bear the second I grabbed my coat off the back of my dorm chair.

His reply buzzed against my palm as I pushed through the glass doors of North Hall into the freezing afternoon air:

Bear: He’s at Rink 1. Still in his skates. Go easy on him, Bennett.

The walk across campus to Rink 1 felt like marching toward an execution.

The freezing wind whipped through my wool coat, biting at my cheeks and drying the tracks of tears Priya had ordered me to wipe away. Every step was shadowed by the echo of my own venomous words in the coffeehouse.

A trust-fund asshole. Throwing money around because you don’t know any better.

My stomach twisted into a sickening knot. Knox had spent his entire life fighting against his father’s attempts to purchase his soul, and I had taken that very trauma and shoved it down his throat just because my own pride felt bruised.

The exterior doors of the athletic arena groaned as I pulled them open.

Inside, the concourse was deserted. The distant, rhythmic hum of refrigeration compressors was the only sound, accompanied by the faint scent of Zamboni exhaust and chilled ice.

I followed the chill down the dim concrete tunnel toward Rink 1.

The overhead stadium lights were dimmed to half-power, bathing the ice in pale, ghostly shadows. At the far end of the rink, a sea of black pucks was scattered like shrapnel inside and around the empty net.

Sitting in the middle of the Briar player bench, leaning forward with his elbows propped on his knees, was Knox.

He was wearing a sweat-dampened practice jersey over his street henley, his skates unlaced and resting loosely on the black rubber floor matting. His dark curls were plastered to his forehead, and his head hung low, his gaze fixed on the composite stick resting across his thighs.

He looked completely exhausted. Not from the physical exertion of his skate, but from the hollow silence he was sitting in.

My chest hitched. The sound of my boots against the rubber runner echoed softly in the cavernous arena.

Knox’s head snapped up.

When his gray eyes found mine, he didn’t scowl. He didn’t sneer. Instead, a guarded, fragile caution flickered across his sharp features, his jaw tightening as he slowly straightened his posture.

"Nora," he murmured in a rough and quiet voice.

I walked to the open gate of the bench, my hands clenched tightly inside my coat pockets to stop them from shaking. "Hey."

Knox looked at the empty wooden space beside him, then looked back at my face, waiting for me to speak.

I didn’t wait for him to ask. I stepped through the gate and sat down beside him, leaving barely three inches of cold air between our shoulders.

The silence stretched between us, thick with everything we hadn’t said at The Roost.

"I called you a trust-fund asshole," I whispered, staring down at my boots. "I sat across from you in a crowded room, after you bought me breakfast, and I called you the exact thing you’ve spent your entire life refusing to become."

Knox went completely still beside me.

"My whole life, money has been something that ran out," I continued, my voice trembling as the truth spilled out. "It was overdue notices on the kitchen counter, flour supplier invoices, and tuition deadlines. I was so terrified of feeling small, of feeling like a dependent who couldn’t carry her own weight, that I turned your concern into an attack."

I turned my head, looking directly into his unreadable gray eyes.

"You defied your father on national television, Knox. You risked your career, your draft, and your name because you refuse to let money own you. And I weaponized his shadow against you. I am so, so sorry."

A soft, ragged exhale left Knox’s lips.

He didn’t yell; he didn’t lecture me. Instead, he reached out and took both of my freezing hands into his warm, calloused palms, his long fingers curling tightly around mine.

"Don’t," Knox said softly, shaking his head. "Don’t apologize for being protective of your life, Bennett."

I blinked, surprised by the gentle steadiness in his voice. "Knox, I was awful to you..."

"I was an arrogant idiot," Knox interrupted firmly, his thumb brushing across the back of my knuckles. "Bear came out here twenty minutes ago and tore a strip off my back. And he was right."

A faint, self-deprecating smirk touched the corner of his mouth, though his eyes stayed intensely earnest.

"My whole life, if something was broken, a check was written," Knox admitted quietly. "Garrison didn’t teach me how to listen; he taught me how to buy solutions. When I saw you shaking from caffeine, running on three hours of sleep, I panicked. I felt completely useless. So I pulled out the only hammer I knew how to swing."

He shifted closer, his broad shoulder pressing warmly against mine, his gaze locking onto mine with fierce sincerity.

"I didn’t realize that by sliding that card across the table, I was telling you that your sweat, your independence, and your hard work didn’t matter," he murmured. "I don’t want a dependent, Nora. I fell in love with the girl who threw a puck at me and broke my nose; the girl who threw an economics textbook at my chest and told me to get to work. I love your pride. I never want to take that from you."

The knot that had been crushing my chest all morning suddenly dissolved, replaced by a surge of warmth so intense it made my throat ache.

"You really fell in love with that girl?" I teased softly, a watery smile breaking through.

Knox didn’t smile. His gray eyes burned with quiet, unshakable conviction.

"Harder than any hit on the ice," he whispered.

He reached up, cupping my jaw with his large hand, tilting my face upward before leaning in.

When his lips met mine, it wasn’t frantic or hungry. It was a slow, grounding kiss that tasted of sweet relief and forgiveness. I leaned into his solid chest, letting out a breath I felt like I’d been holding for days, my fingers tangling in the soft cotton of his henley.

When he finally pulled back, resting his forehead gently against mine, his warm breath fanned across my skin.

"New deal," Knox murmured, his thumb stroking my cheek. "I don’t offer money. You don’t take on extra shifts that leave you sleeping on data tables. I drive you to the diner so you don’t freeze on the walk, I bring you real food while you study, and you let me hold you when you’re tired. Deal?"

I let out a soft, breathless laugh, wrapping my arms around his neck and burying my face against his warm shoulder.

"Deal, Captain."