Chapter 204: Here I Am

NORA’S POV

Saturday morning arrived with pale blue skies and a bitter mountain chill that frosted the edges of every windowpane on Elm Street.

Outside, the snowplow had already cleared the center of the road, pushing fresh white banks up against the curb.

Knox stood by the open bed of his truck, his breath curling into white plumes in the freezing air. He tossed my duffel bag into the back, wedging it securely between his hockey gear and a pair of emergency snow chains.

He was wearing his black winter coat, his collar flipped up against the biting wind, his dark hair ruffled by the breeze.

The front door of the house swung open, and Mom stepped onto the porch.

She wasn’t wearing a coat, just a thick woolen cardigan over her flannel shirt, cradling a large silver tin wrapped in a red holiday ribbon.

"Don’t you dare drive off without these," Mom called out, walking down the steps with careful footing on the cleared salt path.

Knox turned, immediately stepping forward to meet her at the bottom of the porch stairs so she wouldn’t have to walk on the icy driveway.

"Ellen, you didn’t have to bake anything else," Knox said, his tone laced with gentle protest. "You already fed me enough food to last through December."

"Nonsense," Mom said firmly, pressing the warm tin directly into his chest. "Cinnamon rolls and sourdough walnut scones for your bus ride on Monday. Hockey boys burn through calories like steam engines, and I know how terrible roadside cafeteria food is."

Knox looked down at the tin in his large hands.

For a second, he seemed almost at a loss for words, his throat bobbing as he swallowed.

Then Mom reached up.

Before he could offer a polite handshake, Mom wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders, pulling him into a tight, warm hug.

"Thank you for taking care of my girl, Knox," she murmured softly against his coat. "And remember... there’s always a seat for you at my table. Whenever you need it."

Knox stood completely still for half a heartbeat.

I saw the exact moment the defensive armor he had spent a lifetime building simply dissolved. His shoulders lowered, and he wrapped one long, muscular arm around Mom’s back, returning the embrace.

"Thank you, Ellen," Knox said, his voice unusually husky. "For everything."

When Mom finally let go, she patted his cheek with a warm palm and gave me a knowing, teary-eyed smile.

"Drive safe, you two. Call me the second your tires hit campus."

"We will, Mom," I promised, hugging her tightly before climbing into the warm passenger seat of Knox’s truck.

Knox stowed the tin behind the front seats, slid behind the wheel, and turned the key. The engine rumbled to life with a steady, reassuring purr.

As we pulled away from the curb, I looked back through the rear window. Mom was standing on the porch, waving with one hand tucked in her cardigan pocket, until the yellow house disappeared behind a stand of snow-dusted pines.

The drive back to Briar was quiet, comfortable, and warm.

Route 93 stretched out before us like a ribbon of wet black asphalt cutting through endless white hills. Soft rock music hummed from the dashboard speakers.

Halfway through the trip, Knox rested his right hand over mine on the center console. His fingers laced through mine, his thumb stroking across the back of my knuckles in a steady, unconscious rhythm that made my chest ache with fond warmth.

Neither of us talked much about what waited back on campus.

We didn’t have to.

Monday was looming like a shadow. Three games in four nights across Vermont and Maine. Hostile arenas. Long bus rides.

And for me, an endless stack of research papers.

This weekend had been our quiet haven, and the real world was waiting just past the highway exit.

When the familiar brick buildings and gothic spires of Briar University appeared on the horizon, the knot in my stomach tightened slightly.

Knox navigated the slushy campus roads, eventually pulling the truck up along the shoveled curb in front of North Hall.

He shifted the truck into park and turned in his seat to face me.

His gray eyes were soft, searching my face with unhurried tenderness.

"Here you are, Bennett," he murmured.

"Here I am," I echoed.

Knox reached out, his long fingers cupping the side of my jaw. His thumb brushed over my lower lip, tilting my chin up as he leaned across the center console and kissed me deep and slow.

It tasted like coffee and quiet promises, pulling the breath right out of my lungs until my fingers gripped the lapel of his jacket.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against mine, his breath warm on my skin.

"Text me before you go to sleep tonight," he murmured. "I have team meetings and gear check until nine."

"I will," I whispered, smiling against his lips. "Good luck with Brennan."

Knox let out a dry, wry chuckle. "I’ll need it."

He hopped out, grabbed my duffel from the truck bed, and walked me to the front glass doors of the dorm. With one last lingering squeeze of my hand, he jogged back to the truck and drove off toward the SinBin.

I watched the red taillights vanish around the corner before turning toward the elevators.

The third-floor hallway was quiet when I stepped out. Most students weren’t returning until Sunday evening, leaving the corridor smelling faintly of floor wax and radiator heat.

I unlocked the door to Room 304 and pushed it open.

"I’m back," I called out softly, setting my duffel on the floor by the coat rack.

Priya was sitting on the futon in her favorite heather-gray sweatpants and an oversized hoodie. Her laptop was open on her lap, surrounded by highlighters, index cards, and a thick bound casebook on administrative procedure.

On the mini-fridge counter across the room, Bear’s Pyrex dish sat cleanly washed, drying on a paper towel.

Priya looked up from her screen, blinking as if shaking off a haze of deep concentration.

"Nora!" she exclaimed, closing her laptop with a sharp snap and setting it on the cushion beside her. "You’re finally back! How was Oakhaven?"