Chapter 174: Jake, You Idiot

NORA’S POV

The regional bus hissed to a stop at Briar Transit Bay Three at three-thirty on Tuesday afternoon.

Light snow fell gently from the gray sky, dusting the cold ground in white. I pulled my scarf tighter, grabbed my duffel bag from the overhead rack, and stepped down onto the wet platform.

In my other hand, I carried a white bakery box tied with red twine, packed with fresh sourdough loaves and warm cinnamon rolls Mom had baked for the boys before I left.

I saw Knox as soon as I stepped off the bus.

He was leaning against the driver’s side of his black pickup truck, looking tall and handsome in his dark winter coat. As soon as he saw me, he closed the distance between us in three long strides.

Knox took the duffel bag from my shoulder with one hand, dropped it onto the snow, and wrapped his free arm around my waist.

He lifted me clean off my feet.

My boots dangled in the air as Knox buried his face in my neck, inhaling deeply before capturing my mouth in a deep, breathless kiss. His lips felt cold from the winter air, but the heat surging through him warmed me down to my toes.

"Welcome back, Bennett," Knox murmured against my lips, slowly setting my feet back on the ground.

"I missed you," I said softly, placing my hand on his cheek.

Knox took the bakery box from my fingers, put both bags in the back seat, and opened the truck door for me.

Yet as he walked around to the driver’s side, I caught a subtle tightness around his eyes and a rigid set to his shoulders. He seemed to be hiding something behind his calm captain persona.

"Let’s swing by the SinBin first," Knox said as he started the engine. "I need to drop off my gym bag and leave these pastries before the boys tear the house apart looking for food."

"Fine by me," I smiled. "Mom made enough cinnamon rolls to feed a small army."

Thirteen minutes later, Knox pulled into the snow-covered driveway of the SinBin.

Leaving my duffel in the warm cab of the truck, Knox grabbed his dirty gym bag and the bakery box.

Inside, the house smelled of laundry detergent, damp hockey gear, and old pizza. From the kitchen, we could hear Bear and Jake arguing loudly.

"I’m telling you, it uses propane!" Bear roared. "You hook up the tank to the burner, drop the turkey into forty gallons of oil, and let physics do the rest!"

"You’re going to burn the entire garage down, you maniac!" Jake yelled back.

Knox handed me the bakery box and pointed toward the second floor. "I’ll run my gear upstairs and grab a clean practice jersey. Give me two minutes."

"Take your time," I said.

Knox took the stairs two at a time, disappearing down the upstairs hallway.

I walked into the kitchen, carrying the white bakery box.

Bear and Jake stood huddled over the center island, staring at a glossy flyer for an outdoor turkey deep-fryer. The moment I set the bakery box on the counter, both giant defensemen froze.

"Tell me that is what I think it is," Bear whispered, his eyes widening in pure reverence.

"Fresh cinnamon rolls and two loaves of country sourdough," I said, untying the twine. "Straight from Sugar and Spice."

Jake let out a joyful groan, lunging across the counter and snatching two cinnamon rolls before Bear could tackle him. Bear grabbed a loaf of sourdough, ripped a thick hunk off the end with his bare hands, and shoved it into his mouth.

"Your mom is an angel sent from heaven," Bear mumbled through a mouthful of crust. "A literal saint."

I leaned against the counter, smiling as the two boys devoured the pastries like starving wolves.

"So," I asked casually, crossing my arms over my chest. "What are you guys actually doing for Thanksgiving on Thursday?"

Jake swallowed his pastry and let out a miserable sigh, slumping his heavy shoulders.

"My parents took off for Boca Raton yesterday without even leaving me a key to their condo," Jake grumbled. "Bear’s dad is pulling double shifts at the rail yard all weekend. And Knox is..."

Jake paused, waving a sticky, sugar-coated hand in the air without thinking.

"...getting completely cut off by tomorrow noon because his old man kicked in our front door yesterday to disown him."

Bear’s eyes went wide as saucers. He choked on his bread, coughing violently. "Jake, you idiot..."

Footsteps hit the wooden stairs, and a voice cut through the kitchen like a frozen blade before I could respond.

"Jake. Shut the hell up."

Knox was standing at the base of the stairs.

His jersey was over his shoulder, and his hands were in his pockets. He looked upset as he stared at Jake, almost like he wanted to burn holes through his skull.

The room went very quiet.

My heart dropped straight through my boots.

The frantic phone call from Monday morning outside Oakhaven First Community Bank replayed in my mind at lightning speed... Bear’s panic in the background, Knox’s strained, hollow tone, and his smooth assurance that it was merely an unexpected visitor from the athletic board.

I turned slowly to face Knox.

"An athletic board visitor, Knox?" I asked in a deadly quiet voice. "That was your father?"

Jake glanced between Knox’s lethal glare and my ice-cold stare. He slowly backed away from the island, wiping sugar onto his sweatpants. "You know what," he whispered in a squeaky voice. "I think the propane tank out back is leaking."

"Yeah," Bear agreed in a rush, grabbing Jake by the scruff of his neck. "High explosion risk. We’re checking the yard. Right now."

The two massive hockey players scrambled out the back door into the freezing snow, pulling the glass slider shut with a sharp rattle.

Knox and I stood alone in the quiet kitchen.

He let out a long breath, running a hand over his face. He tossed his jersey onto the dining table, walked over to the island, and leaned his hips against the counter opposite me.

"Bennett," Knox started in a rough voice. "I wanted you to have your day. You and your mom fought for months to save that bakery, and you deserved to celebrate without my family’s garbage hanging over your head."

"Start from the beginning, Knox," I said, keeping my posture straight and my arms crossed. "Tell me what happened."

Knox held my gaze for two silent seconds before giving up.

"Garrison showed up yesterday morning," Knox said quietly. "All by himself. He threw down the morning paper with the photo of us kissing on stage at Emerald Pines. He called it a liability."

My stomach tightened with anger, but I stayed quiet, letting him speak.

"He’s getting engaged on Thursday," Knox continued flatly. "To a woman named Victoria Montgomery. She’s thirty-two, Harold Orwell’s partner’s daughter. It’s a business merger to lock down fifty million dollars in real estate. Garrison ordered me to put on a tuxedo, stand by his side at the estate gala, and play the happy, obedient son for the cameras."

"And when you said no?" I prompted, my throat dry.

"He threatened to freeze my trust fund, revoke my credit accounts, and strip the Sheridan athletic endowment from Briar," Knox said.

He looked straight into my eyes, completely unshaken. "He gave me until Wednesday at noon to show up, or I am no longer part of the family."

The weight of his words hit me like a physical blow.

Knox was facing the total loss of his family fortune, an inheritance worth hundreds of millions of dollars, and his father’s final rejection.

"What did you tell him, Knox?" I whispered.

Knox’s jaw tightened.

"What do you think?" he asked. "I told him to freeze it, that I don’t want his money, I don’t want his name, and I don’t want his life. The only thing I care about is what I earn myself on the ice."

My throat tightened with sudden emotion.

"Knox... are you sure?" I asked, searching his face. "This is your entire future. Your family name, your trust fund... you’re talking about getting completely cut off and disowned."

"I have never been more sure of anything in my life, Bennett," Knox replied. "That money was never mine anyway. It was a leash. I’d rather skate with empty pockets and sleep in this drafty house than let him own another second of who I am."

Every trace of frustration drained from my chest, replaced by an overwhelming ache of tenderness.

Underneath the cocky captain persona, Knox had spent his entire life inside a hollow, gilded cage where love was bought and sold like company stock. Yet, he had chosen to walk away from an empire rather than let his father diminish what we had.

I uncrossed my arms, took two slow steps forward, and stopped right in front of him.

Knox braced himself, as if expecting a lecture, an argument, or pity.

I reached up and rested both hands flat against his warm chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath his shirt.

Looking up into his gray eyes, I hesitated for a moment.

"Knox," I said softly. "I know what he did was wrong. But he’s still your father. Do you think... maybe, at some point, you two could sit down and talk things through?"

Knox held my gaze, and something quiet moved through his eyes before it settled into something certain. "He’s had twenty years to talk, Nora," he said in a low and even voice. "He never once wanted to. He only ever wanted compliance."

I pressed my lips together and nodded slowly, because he was right, and I knew it. And as much as I didn’t like how it was turning out for Knox and his dad, I wanted to be there for him

So I tilted my head and asked. "How about you come home with me for Thanksgiving?"