Page 64 of Falling For My Best Friend's Brother

Chapter twenty-three

Nina

Knox’s house was tucked away in a quiet suburban neighborhood, far enough from the city to feel peaceful, but close enough to drive into town when needed. It took me about forty-five minutes to get here in an Uber.

I stood outside at the bottom of his driveway, looking up at the sleek, modern exterior. The newly renovated place stood out on the block, with clean lines and sharp edges that made it look like something out of a design magazine. The front yard was neatly landscaped, with minimalistic touches—tall, slender plants and a few low-maintenance shrubs lining the path.

It was beautiful, and I could see why it had taken so long to get completed. The house itself had dark brick accents and large windows that undoubtedly let in plenty of light in the daytime, reflecting a subtle sophistication that I vibed with.

But I couldn’t fully appreciate the beauty because my nerves were crackling beneath my skin. I sucked in a breath, my eyes darting to his car packed inside the spacious open garage. He was home. Good.

Not good. Shit.

I felt like throwing up. The weight of what I was about to do felt heavier than anything I’d ever carried. It took all of my strength and determination not to turn back and head home. I needed to do this.

With trembling hands, I climbed the steps, inhaling the crisp night air. I raised my fist, ready to knock, when I saw the door was ajar just the slightest. Frowning, I pushed it open and stepped inside, my breath catching at the thought that maybe—just maybe—he had been waiting for me too. But that was wishful thinking. He probably forgot to lock the door behind him. I hoped his neighborhood was safe.

“Knox?” I called out softly, the word barely audible, like a prayer. No answer.

Dark hardwood floors stretched out beneath my feet, muffling my hesitant steps, while the crisp white walls contrasted with the black-framed artwork hanging sporadically—a mix of abstract designs. I tried to remember if Knox had mentioned anything about art in the past. Maybe he was just like those people who bought paintings and sculptures just for the sake of decoration.

The living room was empty. I didn’t have the time to admire the grandiose interior decoration before I moved deeper into the house. It was a big house. I had no idea where to go, but my feet pulled me along. There were sounds coming from a room in the far-left corner of the living room. Hope bloomed painfully in my chest. He was here.

But then I heard it—a laugh. Low. Soft. Intimate.

Feminine.

I edged closer, my vision blurring, my heart thundering. The room—kitchen, I confirmed—came into focus one agonizing second at a time and my gaze landed on Knox, who was sitting on a chair by the fridge. But that wasn’t what expelled all the breath from my lungs. It was the woman sitting on his thigh with her arms around his neck, her face dangerously close to his.

I recognized her from the event I’d attended with Knox. Claire, the ex.

My heart skipped a beat as I took in the scene before me. Knox was gazing intently into her eyes, lips set in a straight line, while a smile danced on her lips. She whispered something to him, and he shook his head, a corner of his lips curving upward.

I thought back to that night when he’d got drunk and told me they’d kissed at a bar. Claire had wanted more, but he couldn’t bring himself to do anything with her because he’d been too busy thinking of me. It didn’t look like he was thinking of me right now.

When Claire leaned forward and pressed her lips to his, the air rushed out of my lungs, and a small, sharp gasp escaped me. It was enough. His head snapped up. Our eyes met, and time froze. There was shock in his gaze—maybe regret, maybe something else—but he didn’t move. He didn’t push her away. He didn’t say anything. He just… sat there and stared.

I felt my heart break into pieces I hadn't even known existed. My hand tightened around the strap of my bag, and I forced myself to turn, every step, a battle against the urge to collapse. I walked out without a word, closing the door softly behind me and then finally allowed one tear to slip out.

“Fuck, fuck,” I breathed through my blurry vision as I walked down the empty street. My chest hurt so freaking badly. I pressed a fist to it, wincing as my entire body shook with my tears.

I should’ve known. I should’ve fucking known that this was a terrible idea. The worst I’d ever come up with. Why did I let Lindsay talk me into doing this? God. The image of Knox and Claire kissing and doing all manner of things turned my stomach.

For a second, my head swirled, and I bent over a shrub of a house and emptied the contents of my stomach into it, heaving. When it seemed like I had nothing else to give, I straightened, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

Crap. Sorry to whoever would be tasked with cleaning that up.

I resumed my walk, my thoughts raging. I went there to bare my heart to him but ended up being heartbroken. He hadn’t said a word. Not one. He hadn’t even looked sorry. His silence was all the confirmation I needed to finally understand that he didn’t love me. He didn’t care about me.

If I wasn’t aware that he hadn’t known about my visit tonight, I would have said he’d left the door open for me to find them. Who knew? Maybe he’d wanted to drive his point home in the cruelest manner possible, so there would be absolutely no doubt that I was fighting an uphill battle.

God, I was a fool. A stupid, twenty-three-year-old girl without a shred of sense between her ears who’d gotten ahead of herself and fallen for a man nine years older than her. A man who’d made it clear, not once, but twice, that there was nothing between them other than sex. And not only had I fallen for him, but I’d also gotten pregnant too.

Laughable, really.

The crazy part was that I still cared. Even after what I saw tonight, there was a sick, twisted part of me that still cared so deeply about him. What was wrong with me? When would I learn?

“Oh God.” I murmured, my guts twisting again. Nothing came up. My stomach was completely empty.

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