Chapter 82: Safely Home

NORA’S POV

The wind blew across the student union transit plaza, swirling dry red and amber leaves around my boots.

I stood beside the brick columns near the transit lobby, clutching a steaming paper coffee cup in both hands to keep my fingers from going numb.

Resting on the pavement beside my feet was my duffel bag, packed with four days’ worth of clothes, study binders, and a fresh pair of comfortable sneakers for the bakery.

I glanced down at my phone clock: 12:15 PM.

My stomach was tied in tight knots.

Professor Vance had promised that the official Macroeconomics midterm grades would be uploaded to the university portal by noon on Wednesday.

For the last twenty minutes, I had been refreshing my student dashboard every sixty seconds, but the department grading queue was moving at an agonizing crawl.

Suddenly, my phone vibrated in my palm.

Knox: Where are you, Bookworm? Check your portal.

My pulse jumped straight into my throat. My fingers flew across the glass screen with frantic speed:

Nora: Just walked out of the student union café with a coffee. Did the scores drop?! Tell me you checked.

I held the phone with trembling fingers, staring at the screen as three little gray dots danced in response.

Before the text could arrive, a booming, familiar voice cut clean across the crowded quad: "BENNETT!"

I snapped my head up.

Running across the concrete pathways in long strides was Knox.

He wore a dark jacket over a fitted black shirt, his dark curls slightly messy from the breeze. He had such a radiant, happy smile on his face that I stopped in my tracks.

I didn’t even have time to ask.

Knox closed the remaining distance in seconds, stepping straight into my space.

Without a single word of warning, his large hands hooked firmly around my waist and lifted me clean off the concrete pavement into the air.

"Knox!" I gasped, my hands flying to his shoulders to steady myself as coffee sloshed dangerously against the plastic lid of my cup.

Knox spun me around once, pulling me flush against his solid chest as a loud laugh tore from his throat. The heat radiating from his body hit me like a wall of fire, completely obliterating the autumn chill.

"Eighty-one percent, Nora!" Knox rasped, looking up into my face with ecstatic eyes. "Eighty-one! A legitimate B-minus!"

My hazel eyes went wide in stunned disbelief.

"Eighty-one?" I breathed, tightening my fingers against the fabric of his jacket as a wave of euphoric relief flooded my chest. "Knox, that’s amazing! You passed! You actually passed!"

"We passed," Knox corrected in a low, breathless rumble, slowly lowering my feet back to the pavement.

His hands lingered around the curve of my waist for one long, electric second, his warm palms burning straight through my navy wool coat before he finally stepped back.

"I saw your hockey diagrams on every single question," Knox murmured, his eyes sparkling with genuine sincerity. "The central bank line changes, the neutral zone money supply... everything. You saved my life, Nora."

"You did the work, Sheridan," I smiled softly, feeling a warm pink blush creep up my neck. "I just drew the lines."

"Come on," Knox said, reaching for my free hand with a boyish and eager smile. "I’m taking you to the steakhouse across town. Porterhouse steaks and whatever dessert you want. My treat."

My smile faltered slightly as reality rushed back in.

I looked down at the heavy canvas duffel bag sitting at my feet, then back up into his expectant gaze with a pang of quiet regret.

"I... I can’t, Knox," I said gently. "My bus to Oakhaven leaves in fifteen minutes. I promised Mom I’d be home for the four-day reading break."

The bright excitement in Knox’s expression flickered, replaced by a sudden, sharp tension in his jaw and I couldn’t help but feel guilty too.

His eyes dropped to the packed bag, then rose back to mine, searching my face with an intense, possessive scrutiny that made my heart stutter.

Four days.

The weight of four whole days apart seemed to hang in the space between us.

Without saying a word, Knox leaned down, grabbed the thick strap of my canvas duffel, and hoisted the heavy bag effortlessly over his broad shoulder.

"Then I’m walking you to your bus," he said quietly.

We fell into step beside each other, walking down the paved pedestrian path toward Transit Bay 3, where the large silver-and-blue regional coach bus was idling with its lower luggage compartments open.

The cool autumn wind rustled the dry leaves along the curb, blowing a stray curl across my cheek.

Beside me, Knox was unusually quiet. His long legs matched my shorter stride, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets as his broad shoulders shielded me from the gusting wind.

I stole a glance at his sharp side profile from the corner of my eye.

His jaw was set, his brow slightly furrowed in thought. The easy, playful banter that usually defined our interactions had vanished, replaced by a charged, magnetic silence that made every step feel heavy.

We reached the front boarding door of the coach.

A dozen students were handing their tickets to the driver, filing up the narrow steps into the heated cabin.

Knox set my heavy duffel down beside the luggage rack, then turned to face me.

I gripped my small backpack against my chest, looking up at him under the overcast gray sky.

"Thank you, Knox," I murmured softly. "For carrying the bag... and for the coffee yesterday. And congratulations on the eighty-one. You really deserved it."

"Nora?"

His voice dropped into that low, gravelly rumble that always sent shivers straight to my core.

He stepped closer, closing the remaining foot of distance until his towering six-foot-three frame completely blocked out the rest of the busy depot.

He raised his right hand.

His large, calloused fingers came up to gently cup the side of my neck, his thumb resting against the sensitive curve of my jawline.

My breath hitched in my throat, freezing solid in my chest.

His skin was burning hot against mine, sending an electric shockwave racing straight down my spine. My pupils dilated as I stared up into his dark, hypnotic eyes, completely paralyzed by the raw intensity in his gaze.

Slowly, Knox leaned down until his lips hovered barely an inch from the shell of my ear, his warm breath stirring my hair.

"Four days, Bennett," Knox whispered, his voice thick with a dark, possessive rasp that made my knees tremble. "Don’t stay away too long... I don’t like playing on ice when you’re not in the rink."

My chest heaved softly, the heat radiating between us so consuming that the rest of the world completely faded into nothing.

"Next passenger for Oakhaven!" the bus driver called out from the open doorway.

The spell snapped.

I blinked, my cheeks burning with a furious, breathless flush. I swallowed hard, giving Knox one last, trembling nod before turning around and climbing the narrow bus steps.

I found a window seat halfway down the left aisle, sliding into the cushioned seat and resting my backpack on my lap.

I pressed my trembling fingers against the cool, tinted glass, looking down at the concrete platform.

Knox was still standing exactly where I had left him.

His hands were shoved deep into his jacket pockets, his curls whipped by the wind, his dark eyes locked straight onto my window seat through the glass.

The heavy pneumatic doors of the bus hissed shut with a sharp hiss.

The diesel engine roared to life with a deep vibration, and the coach slowly began rolling forward, pulling out of the transit bay and turning onto the main highway toward Oakhaven.

I watched Knox’s tall silhouette grow smaller and smaller in the distance until the bus rounded the bend and Briar University disappeared behind the rolling autumn hills.

I sank back against the headrest, letting out a long, shaky exhale that rattled in my chest.

I reached up with trembling fingers, touching the side of my neck where his hand had rested.

My skin was still burning. The electric static of his touch lingered on my pulse point, refusing to fade no matter how many miles stretched between us.

Don’t stay away too long...

His words replayed on an endless loop in my mind as the bus cruised down the two-lane mountain highway.

Red, gold, and orange leaves covered the forest outside. It was a beautiful sight, but I couldn’t stop thinking about the truth I was trying to ignore.

I had told myself I was coming home to Oakhaven for quiet study time, to help my mom at the bakery, and to find safe, familiar comfort with Drew Miller.

But as the bus crossed the county line, the realization settled in my chest.

I was running away from Knox Sheridan because he terrified me. Because every single rule I had written to protect my heart had burned to ashes the moment he looked at me.

And now, ninety miles of highway wasn’t enough to stop me from thinking about him

—

By four-forty-five in the afternoon, the coach bus pulled to a gentle stop beside the town square in Oakhaven.

The hiss of the air brakes broke the silence of the quiet streets.

I hoisted my duffel bag over one shoulder, grabbed my backpack, and stepped down onto the familiar brick sidewalk.

The air in Oakhaven was clean, and cool, smelling rich with damp pine needles, woodsmoke from nearby stone chimneys, and fallen leaves.

There were no roaring arena crowds here. No SportsCentral news cameras. No viral social media videos, and no billionaire fathers threatening to tear down lives with legal contracts.

It was peaceful. Still. Safe.

I walked down Main Street, my boots clicking softly against the pavement as a few local shop owners waved warmly through their storefront windows.

Two blocks down, the painted wooden sign hung proudly above the storefront: Sugar & Spice Bakery.

I pushed open the heavy front glass door and the familiar brass bell rang out, echoing through the warm shop.

Instantly, the rich, intoxicating aroma of freshly baked sourdough, sweet vanilla glaze, and warm roasted cinnamon washed over my senses, wrapping around me like a familiar blanket.

The swinging wooden door to the back kitchen flew open.

My mother rushed out, wiping her flour-dusted hands on her dark green apron. Her face lit up with overwhelming, tearful joy the moment her eyes found mine.

"Nora!" Mom cried out, opening her arms wide.

"Mom!"

I dropped my duffel bag on the wooden floor and threw my arms around her neck.

Mom wrapped her arms tightly around my back, holding me close as a small sob of pure relief escaped her lips.

"Oh, look at you, honey," Mom whispered, pulling back to cup my cheeks in her warm, flour-dusted hands, her eyes shining with tears. "You’re home. My sweet girl is finally home."

Standing in the warm, cinnamon-scented bakery with my mother’s arms around me, a wave of comfort washed over my tired shoulders.

I was home.

And tomorrow afternoon, Drew Miller was picking me up for our date.