Chapter 131: Lot of Explanation to Do

NORA’S POV

Knox swiped his thumb across the screen and brought the phone to his ear. "Coach." His voice instantly dropped into his cold captain tone.

I sat on the edge of the bed with my hands tight in my lap and watched his face. Coach Brennan’s harsh, muffled voice came through the speaker.

"I’m looking at it right now," Brennan barked. "Pierce has been blowing up my phone since six in the morning. If this thing is real, compliance is pulling you off the ice, Sheridan. You’re looking at an academic fraud investigation, forfeiting games, and kissing your captaincy goodbye. And Nora isn’t in the clear either."

Knox didn’t flinch. "I can explain."

"You damn well better," Brennan snapped. "My office, eight-thirty sharp. And don’t be late, Sheridan."

The line went dead with a click.

Knox lowered the phone, staring at the blank screen for a second before looking up at me. "He wants me at the arena in forty minutes," he said, throwing back the wool blanket.

He stood up, grabbing his boots from the floor.

"Priya is downstairs," Knox continued, pulling on his boots. "I’ll tell her to take my truck or catch a ride to North Hall. She can pack a bag with your clean clothes, your laptop, and whatever you need for the weekend."

I stood up from the bed, watching him in disbelief. "Wait. What are you talking about?"

"You’re staying here," Knox said, reaching for his jacket on the chair. "I’m going to the arena alone."

"No, you’re not," I said, shaking my head. "You’re not going by yourself, Knox."

Knox paused with his arms halfway into his jacket sleeves.

He turned to look at me with a tight expression. "Nora, you don’t know Brennan when he’s like this. He’s looking for someone to blame, and Pierce is going to be breathing down his neck."

"And hiding me in this house is your solution?" I asked, stepping closer to him.

"It keeps you out of the crosshairs. The campus is already awake. There are going to be students and people hanging around the arena entrance. You don’t need to take that hit."

"You don’t get to take it alone either," I said steadily. "If I stay locked up here while you walk into Brennan’s office by yourself, what does that look like to the school? To Pierce?"

Knox stared at me.

"It looks like an admission of guilt," I answered my question, meeting his gaze. "It makes it look like I took a bribe, got caught, and sent my rich hockey captain boyfriend to clean up the mess."

"That’s not what happened," Knox growled.

"I know that!" I replied, holding his gaze.

"And you know that," I pressed. "But the entire campus is looking at a contract with my signature on it. If I hide, I validate every single lie on Briar Buzz."

"Nora..."

"No," I cut him off, refusing to back down. "My name is on that paper, and my honors fellowship is on the line. I worked years for my academic standing. And I am not hiding like a coward while people drag my reputation through the mud."

Knox stepped closer, searching my eyes. "It might get ugly and unpleasant out there," he warned quietly. "People are going to stare, and they’re going to talk."

"Let them talk," I said, my chin lifted high. "Last night in the truck, you said we face this together. Did you mean it, or was that just talk?"

Knox let out a low breath through his teeth. A flicker of reluctant admiration crossed his face. "You are the most stubborn person I’ve ever met," he muttered.

"Good," I retorted. "Then stop arguing and let’s go."

Knox grabbed his keys off the nightstand. "We’re stopping at North Hall first. You need to change, and we need your records."

We headed downstairs together.

The kitchen was already moving. Bear was standing by the stove pouring black coffee into a travel mug, while Jake was printing out a fresh stack of forum threads at the counter.

Priya looked up from the island the second we walked in. "He called?"

"Eight-thirty at the rink," Knox answered, taking the coffee mug Bear handed him. "We’re hitting North Hall first so Nora can get her files and change."

"The front curb is clear right now," Jake said, glancing through the blinds. "Those cars from last night took off around dawn, but campus is definitely awake."

"We’ll be fine," Knox said.

He then took my hand, lacing his fingers through mine, and led me out the back door to his truck.

—

The morning air was freezing, biting against my bare ankles as we stepped into the alley. Knox unlocked the passenger door, helped me up into the cab, and ran around to the driver’s side.

Within seconds, the engine rumbled to life, and we pulled out into the street.

The drive across campus was tense.

Even though it was barely eight in the morning, students were already out on the sidewalks, walking toward the dining halls and the library.

As Knox’s black truck rolled past the quad, heads turned.

People nudged each other, pointing at the truck. I saw two girls sitting on the brick low wall near the student union look up from their phones, their eyes tracking us as we turned onto the North Hall access road.

My stomach churned, but I kept my back straight and my eyes forward.

Knox pulled into the short-term lot in front of North Hall. He cut the engine, unbuckled, and looked at me.

"Ready?" he asked quietly.

"Ready," I replied.

We stepped out of the truck together.

The lobby of North Hall was warm, smelling of stale coffee and damp floor mats. Four freshmen sitting near the mailboxes stopped talking the moment the glass doors opened.

Their eyes darted between Knox and me, wide and undisguised. One of them immediately pulled out his phone.

Knox didn’t say a word. He slid his arm around my shoulders, pulling me tight against his side, and stared down the freshman with a cold glare until the guy shoved his phone back into his pocket and looked away.

We took the stairs two at a time up to the third floor.

Inside Room 304, the familiar quiet of my dorm felt like a sanctuary.

"Fifteen minutes," I said, dropping my tote bag onto my desk.

"Take your time," Knox said, leaning against the locked door with his arms crossed.

I grabbed clean clothes from my closet and bolted into the adjoining bathroom. I turned the shower on hot, scrubbing away the exhaustion, the smoke of O’Malley’s, and the panic of the night before in five frantic minutes.

I dried off, pulled on dark denim jeans, a crisp white button-down, and a thick navy cable-knit sweater. I tied my hair back into a neat, low ponytail.

When I stepped back into the bedroom, Knox looked up. His expression softened for a fraction of a second before hardening into battle-ready focus.

"You look like you’re ready for a board meeting," he said.

"I’m ready for war," I told him.

I went straight to my desk drawers. I pulled out my leather satchel and loaded it with everything I needed: my official tutoring appointment logs from the athletic academic center, my signed weekly timecards, my detailed syllabus notes, and my copy of the Academic Accommodation Act paperwork.

"Every hour accounted for," I said, zipping the satchel shut. "Every single dollar was earned through actual academic work."

"Let’s go show Brennan," Knox said.

We walked back out of North Hall, ignoring the whispers in the stairwell, and drove straight to Briar Ice Arena.

The arena parking lot was half-empty under the gray morning sky. A few team trucks and staff sedans were parked near the players’ entrance.

Knox parked in his designated captain’s spot near the loading bay. We walked through the double metal doors, our boots echoing against the polished concrete floor of the concourse.

The cold chill from the ice rinks filled the air.

A couple of arena maintenance workers pushing mop buckets stopped to watch us pass. An assistant equipment manager heading toward the laundry room froze mid-step, his eyes darting to Knox’s face before he quickly ducked his head.

Knox didn’t look left or right. He kept his hand firmly clasped around mine as we walked down the administrative corridor toward the coaching offices.

At the end of the hall, the frosted glass door of Coach Brennan’s office stood shut.

We stopped outside the door.

I took a deep breath, clutching the strap of my satchel. Knox looked down at me, squeezing my hand once.

Before Knox could even lift his knuckles to knock, the door was yanked open from the inside.

Coach Brennan stood in the doorway.

His gray hair was uncombed, his team track jacket was unzipped over a rumpled polo, and his face was darker than a thunderhead. Clutched in his thick hand was a stack of printed pages from Briar Buzz.

His furious, bloodshot eyes dropped to our joined hands, then snapped up to Knox’s face.

Brennan didn’t yell; his voice was terrifyingly low but you could tell the anger in it. "Inside," he growled, stepping aside and pointing into his office. "Both of you. You have a lot of explaining to do."