Chapter 198: The Hallowed Halls of My Youth

NORA’S POV

The winter air hit us with a refreshing bite.

Fresh powder from yesterday’s storm dusted the brick sidewalks, the shop awnings, and the row of parked cars along the curb.

Small-town Oakhaven looked peaceful and serene under the morning sun. Antique iron lampposts were wrapped in fresh pine boughs and red velvet ribbons, getting ready for the upcoming winter holidays.

Knox zipped his black winter jacket, pulling on a charcoal knit beanie.

He reached down, taking my gloved hand and tucking our joined fingers securely into his warm jacket pocket.

"So, tour guide," he said, looking down at me with a playful smirk. "Where are you taking me first?"

"First stop is Main Street," I said proudly. "Try not to get overwhelmed by all the high-rises."

Knox let out a low chuckle, looking around at the quiet two-story brick buildings. "I think I can handle it," he murmured.

As we strolled down the sidewalk, the town was slowly waking up. Shopkeepers were sweeping snow off their welcome mats, and a few locals were carrying bags from the local grocery market.

"Morning, Nora!"

A cheerful voice called out from across the street.

I looked over and waved. "Morning, Mr. Ham!"

"Good to see you home for the holiday!" the older man shouted, leaning on his snow shovel and eyeing Knox’s tall, broad frame with fond curiosity. "Saw the paper... Congratulations to you and your mom on the big win!"

"Thank you!" I yelled back with a wide smile.

We continued down the block, passing the local hardware store, the family-owned pharmacy, and the small corner bookstore.

"Does everyone in this town know you?" Knox asked, amused.

"Basically," I laughed. "There are about four thousand people here. If you sneeze on Main Street, someone three blocks away calls your mom to offer a tissue."

Knox smiled, but there was a quiet, contemplative look in his eyes.

"In Boston, you can live in the same building for ten years and never know your neighbor’s name," he said softly. "Nobody looks at each other. Nobody cares."

I squeezed his hand inside his pocket.

"Well, people care here," I said gently. "Sometimes a little too much, but it’s home."

We turned off Main Street and walked two blocks toward the edge of town, where the residential streets gave way to a broad, snow-covered campus.

The red-brick facade of Oakhaven High School sat nestled beneath a cluster of towering snow-draped pines.

The parking lot was empty, the quiet grounds blanketed in white snow.

"Welcome to the hallowed halls of my youth," I announced, gesturing dramatically toward the school entrance.

Knox raised an eyebrow, looking at the modest brick building. "This is where the future valedictorian reigned supreme?" he teased.

"Reigned supreme is a generous description," I admitted as we walked along the cleared perimeter path toward the athletic field. "I was mostly the terrified nerd who drank too much coffee and argued with teachers about assignment rubrics."

Knox laughed.

We walked past the snow-covered football field and climbed the steps of the empty wooden bleachers.

Knox used his gloved hand to brush away a thick layer of snow from the top bench before sitting down and pulling me into his side.

I leaned against his shoulder, letting the solid warmth of his body shield me from the mountain breeze.

"Tell me something embarrassing," Knox prompted, nudging my knee with his. "There has to be at least one scandal in the Nora Bennett archives."

I groaned, burying my face against his jacket sleeve. "Oh god. There are several."

"Let’s hear them," he demanded, clearly enjoying himself.

"Fine," I sighed, looking out over the snowy field. "Sophomore year, for the regional science fair, I decided to do a comprehensive study on the microbial fermentation rates of wild yeast cultures."

Knox tilted his head, smiling. "Sounds very on brand."

"It was great," I said, "until I sealed three separate mason jars of active sourdough starter with airtight lids to measure gas expansion overnight in the biology lab."

Knox choked on a sudden laugh. "Nora, tell me you didn’t."

"I did," I admitted, blushing furiously at the memory. "The pressure built up at three in the morning. When Mr. Finch unlocked the lab the next day, all three jars had detonated like flour bombs. There was sticky, fermented yeast dripping from the ceiling tiles, the whiteboard, and the state testing posters."

Knox threw his head back, his deep laughter ringing out across the empty bleachers.

"You bombed your own biology lab with sourdough?" he asked, wiping a tear of amusement from the corner of his eye.

"I had to spend two full Saturday detentions scrubbing fermented gluten off the light fixtures with a toothbrush," I muttered, though I was laughing right along with him. "Mr. Finch banned me from entering the science fair for two years."

Knox turned toward me, his arm wrapping around my back to pull me closer.

His eyes were shining with pure, unvarnished affection.

"What about you?" I asked softly, resting my hand on his chest. "What was high school like for Knox Sheridan?"

The amusement in his expression faded slightly, replaced by a quiet, reflective stillness.

"Nothing like this," he answered after a moment.

He looked out over the snowy trees, his jaw tightening just a fraction.

"I went to a private prep academy outside Boston," Knox said quietly. "Everything was rigid. Uniforms, strict curfews, and zero room for mistakes. By my sophomore year, NHL scouts and college recruiters were in the stands for every single game."

He paused, letting out a faint breath that curled into white vapor.

"Nobody cared what you did in science class, or whether you had fun," he continued. "They only cared about your plus-minus rating, your penalty minutes, and how high your draft stock was. Every conversation was about the next tournament, the next showcase, the next contract."

My heart ached for him.

I reached up, cupping his cold cheek with my gloved hand, gently turning his face back toward me.

"Sounds lonely," I whispered.

Knox leaned into my palm, his gray eyes searching mine with raw honesty. "It was," he admitted softly. "I didn’t realize how lonely it was until I met you."

He slid his arm around my waist, lifting his other hand to cup the back of my neck.

"Walking around this town... seeing where you grew up, the bakery, the crate you stood on... it makes sense now," Knox murmured with conviction. "You know who you are, Nora. You’ve always known. And you don’t need a name, a trust fund, or a corporate title to prove it."

My throat tightened with emotion.

"Neither do you, Knox," I told him, looking straight into his eyes. "You don’t need Garrison’s name. You never did."

Knox looked at me for a long, silent beat.

A gentle, unburdened smile spread across his handsome face.

He leaned in, capturing my lips in a deep, tender kiss that melted away the mountain chill.

When he finally pulled back, resting his forehead against mine, I looked out past the snowy goalposts toward the dense pine woods bordering the edge of the school grounds.

Through the trees, a narrow footpath wound down toward the rushing, half-frozen waters of Mill Creek.

A nervous flutter stirred in my chest, accompanied by a profound, aching vulnerability. "Knox?" I called softly.

"Yeah, Bennett?" he murmured, his thumb still stroking my jawline.

I took a slow, steadying breath, biting my lip before looking straight into his calm gray eyes.

"Can I show you somewhere special?" I asked, my heart beating in rapid pulses against my ribs. "There’s... someone I want you to meet. In a way."