Page 2 of Knotted Laces

As she talks, I think about the way she smiled at me at dinner—after offering me the bowl of mashed potatoes. Is that progress? Or just more of the same?

“So, I don’t know.” She sighs. “It’s a tangle for sure.”

“Don’t sound so upset,” Lex rumbles, tone teasing. “You know you love nothing more than a challenge.”

I commit that piece of information to memory, doubly so when she laughs, when I hear that single glimpse of soft amongst strong and capable and badass and know that Lex’s teasing is filled with truth.

They continue to talk as I add that to my mental list of things I’ve learned about Athena Phillips.

Bad ass FBI agent.

Great shot.

Competitive.

Removed.

Quiet and set apart unless she’s like this—with Lex at her side.

Family seems to be a mystery to her.

And I’m desperate to know why.

Fuckingobsessed.

“Well,” Lex says, snapping me out of my thoughts. “I’m going to head off to bed.”

“Me too,” my brother says.

There’s the noise of chairs scraping and footsteps on the porch and?—

“I’ll catch up with you guys in the morning,” Athena says. “I just want to enjoy the night for a bit longer.”

There’s something wistful about the statement and I still, wanting to know why.

Wanting to know everything about her.

Maybe that’s why I listen to them exchange good nights and wait for their footsteps to move inside, up the stairs, to disappear into their respective bedrooms. Maybe it’s why when Athena doesn’t come inside, I slip out of my room and into the kitchen, peering out through the wide window behind the sink and seeing her sitting in the chair, head tilted up toward the sky, curls flowing down her back in a sweep of dark waves.

I stare, soaking her in.

And I don’t know if it’s because she’s in law enforcement and her instincts are honed—or just because I’m standing there like a creeper, staring at her from the shadows of the kitchen—but eventually she spins around.

I freeze as our eyes connect.

My heart launches itself against my rib cage as she pushes up out of the chair, starts for the door to the kitchen, and I scramble, searching for anything that won’t make me look like a fucking creep…

And have the feeling I fail as she walks through the door and I’m still standing there like a fucking creeper.

“Cam,” she murmurs in greeting.

“Athena,” I manage back.

Her brows flick up, eyes promising retribution.

“Sorry,” I mutter, wrapping my fingers around a glass. “Uh, I meant, Ats,” I amend. I hold up the cup. “I…uh…just needed some water and a snack.”

Right on cue, my stomach growls.

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