Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 91285 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91285 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
When I remain silent, she says, “I don’t even know if I’ll get the part.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
She frowns. “Of course it does.”
“No.” I shake my head. “Getting the part isn’t the point. Going after it is. Doing something because you care about it, and taking the chance to make your dream a reality… that’s what matters.”
A dozen emotions flicker across her face. It’s like she’s trying to decide whether I actually mean it or if I’m just saying the right thing to sound supportive.
“Whatever happens,” I add, my voice lower now, “I’ll be here for you.”
Her breath catches, and the surprise on her expression hits like a gut punch. I get the feeling she’s not used to hearing that. It makes me wonder if the support she’s gotten in the past came with strings attached. Conditions. Expectations. Trade-offs.
What Cheyenne needs right now is to get out of her head. Away from the looming specter of her mom, the show, and everything trying to drag her back into a life she’s no longer sure she wants.
And I know exactly where she can do that.
I straighten and grab my coffee. “Finish your French toast, Hollywood.”
“Why?”
“Because we’re going on a little field trip.”
Her head tilts. “We are?”
“Yup.”
“Are you going to tell me where?”
I take a sip of my coffee, one side of my mouth hitching. “Nope. It’s a surprise.”
Her eyes narrow. “Knox.”
“Get dressed,” I say, already heading toward the hallway. “And wear comfortable shoes.”
A laugh slips out of her, and just like that, some of the heaviness hanging in the air disappears.
“You’re really not going to give me a hint?”
I glance back, holding her gaze long enough to see some of the tension in her shoulders ease.
“It’s where I go when I want to be alone,” I admit. “Or when I need to think.”
The truth of that comment lands hard, because this isn’t a place I bring people.
And that includes women.
Especially one I’m trying not to fall for and failing miserably at.
Her expression softens, as if she understands exactly what I’m saying even though I haven’t spelled it out.
“All right, McNichols. Consider me intrigued.”
I huff out a small laugh. “I knew you would be.”
25
Cheyenne
Even after we settle in Knox’s Maserati, I refrain from asking questions. Mostly because I’m still thinking about what we discussed in the kitchen. And then there’s the fact that Knox looks entirely too pleased with himself, with one hand draped over the wheel while the other rests on the center console.
The bruise under his eye has darkened into a deep purple, but it doesn’t make him look weak. If anything, it makes him look rougher. More formidable. Which isn’t helping my ability to think clearly when it comes to this man.
“You’re enjoying this way too much,” I comment, watching as the city slips past the windows.
He glances at me, his mouth twitching. “Enjoying what?”
“The fact that I have no idea where we’re going.”
“Maybe.”
I fold my arms across my chest. “You realize this is how people end up being discussed on true crime podcasts, right?”
He snorts. “Relax. If I were going to kidnap you, I wouldn’t have bothered to feed you first.”
“That’s not actually comforting.”
“It should be. I made Nutella-stuffed French toast. That took major effort on my part.”
I try not to smile. I get the feeling this is how Knox shows he cares. He doesn’t make big speeches or grand gestures. He saw that I was stuck in my head, and did something about it.
He turns onto Cannon Drive before pulling into a parking lot a minute later. I look up, confused for half a second until my gaze lands on the sign.
Lincoln Park Zoo.
I blink. “You brought me to the zoo?”
This isn’t what I was expecting.
He cuts the engine and looks at me like it’s the most obvious place in the world. “Yup.”
“You’re actually serious?”
With a shrug, he glances at the entrance. “Kind of hard to spiral when you’re looking at goats.”
I laugh. “Goats?”
“Sure. They’re pretty cute.”
My chest already feels lighter than it did fifteen minutes ago when we climbed into the car. The air is cool and the sky bright blue. It’s the kind of day that makes the city feel crisp and alive. Families walk by with strollers, and kids tug on their parents’ hands as couples wander without any obvious destination.
It’s ordinary.
Normal.
There aren’t any cameras, assistants, or handlers. No one’s telling me where to stand or who to smile at. It’s just a zoo on a weekend with Knox. And somehow that feels more surreal than any red carpet.
We fall into step and head toward the entrance. For a few seconds, neither of us says anything. As we pass through the gate, Knox reaches over and takes my hand. His fingers lace through mine, and my heart stutters. I glance around, scanning faces, looking for phones or cameras.