like entering a different reality, one marked by Cole’s absence. It leaves a void I’m reluctant to acknowledge. I hate that I miss him, hate that a part of me longs for the very thing I know I should avoid. The silence he’s left behind is both a relief and a torment.
Ethan is back too. He and Poppy have worked through their issues, and he is here, in the kitchen, his arm casually draped around her. They’re laughing about something trivial. Their ease with each other is so starkly apparent. It’s a sight that stirs something in me, a flicker of something like hope or perhaps envy.
Seeing them together, so effortlessly reconciled, forces me to confront my own tangled feelings. Poppy had once been as adamant about staying away from Ethan as I am about keeping my distance from Cole. Yet here they are, seemingly having found a way back to each other. It raises an uncomfortable question in my mind. If Poppy can navigate the murky waters of a broken, then mended relationship, could I?
The thought unnerves me. I’ve been so focused on self-preservation, on protecting my heart from further damage, that the possibility of revisiting what Cole and I once had feels both terrifying and strangely alluring.
“Are you coming with Poppy to the game today? She told me you’re a pro,” Ethan says with a genuine smile, attempting to bridge the gap between us for Poppy’s sake.
His casual question catches me off guard, and I hesitate to say no, with Poppy looking at me so earnestly.
I’m about to answer when my phone interrupts, its ringtone slicing through the moment. Grateful for the reprieve, I mutter a quick apology and retreat to my bedroom, answering the call without checking the ID. “Hello?”
“Miss Sinclair?” The voice is unfamiliar, professional.
“Yes, speaking.” I sit on the edge of my bed, a sense of unease creeping in.
“This is Rebecca, Dr. Mahoney’s secretary.” The name hits me like a wave. Dr. Melissa Mahoney, the nerve reconstruction specialist whose expertise seemed like a distant dream, unreachable due to the astronomical fees.
“Miss Sinclair? Am I catching you at a bad time?”
“I… well, no, but I’m not sure why you’re calling. We contacted Dr. Mahoney’s office last year with all my medical history, but it was not a good fit.”
“Well, as you know, Dr. Mahoney and her team are probably the best in the field. If anyone can help you, it’s her.”
Why do you think I came to you in the first place? I think but only shake my head.
“Yes, I’m well aware, but I don’t have the funds to afford Dr. Mahoney’s rates.”
Rebecca hesitates, then says, “Well, Mr. Westbrook has offered to cover all your medical expenses.”
“Mr. Westbrook?” My mind races. Cole? His father? It doesn’t matter. I’m not a charity case. “Thank you, but no. I’ve moved on from that possibility,” I reply, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside me, and end the call.
Reeling from the call, Poppy’s voice catches me off guard. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”
I give her a half smile. “We both know that’s not entirely true.”
“Okay, fine, that’s not true.” She walks in and leans against my desk, her expression laden with concern and curiosity. “Why’d you say no to the doctor?”
Nodding, I decide to explain. “Yes, she’s a nerve specialist, but—” I shake my head. “Cole offered to pay her.” I look down at my hand and brush the scar.
A sigh escapes as my finger traces the familiar scar. “Hope’s a dangerous thing. I’ve made my peace. And I don’t want his guilt-ridden gestures.”
Poppy sits beside me, her presence comforting. “It’s not guilt, Eva. And even if it were, don’t let pride stand in the way of a chance to heal.” Her finger touches my scar, a gesture so gentle and understanding.
Her touch brings a wave of emotion, and I lean my head on her shoulder. “I need time,” I whisper, the weight of everything pressing down on me.
She wraps an arm around me. “Come to the game and the party afterward. It’ll do you good to let loose for a bit.”
The thought of seeing Cole again stirs dread but also an inexplicable longing. I miss him more than I dare to admit, even to myself. The thought terrifies me, but deep down, I know I can’t keep avoiding him.
“Okay, I’ll go,” I say, a decision that feels both frightening and necessary. As I agree, I realize that no matter how much I try to push it away, the pull toward him remains, a force as undeniable as gravity.
I change my mind about twenty times about going to the game and also hate myself for the extra care I put into my appearance, knowing that I will probably see Cole at the party.
The excitement in the air is palpable as I arrive at the game with Poppy and Nessa. Despite my initial reluctance, the energy of the crowd is infectious, and I find myself swept up in the moment, forgetting him, the doctor, and the conflicting emotions in my heart and head.
As the game progresses, I watch Cole on the field, his athletic prowess on full display. He moves with a grace and intensity that captivates the audience. I catch myself cheering for him, surprised at my own investment in his performance. Every successful play, every strategic move he makes draws a reaction from me, and I feel a sense of pride in his achievements. It’s confusing, this blend of admiration and lingering hurt, but for the moment, the former overshadows the latter.
The game ends with a triumphant victory, and the crowd erupts into a frenzy of celebration. Cole’s team is exuberant, their joy contagious. As we leave the stadium, the atmosphere is electric, full of adrenaline and euphoria.
We arrive at the after-party with Ethan, who has his arm lovingly wrapped around Poppy. I can’t help but notice the way he looks at her; like she’s the most precious thing in the world. It’s heartwarming to see them together, so obviously in love. It’s a reminder of what real, unselfish affection looks like, and for a moment, I feel a pang of longing.
As soon as we walk in, Cole and Liam appear out of thin air. His blue eyes light up when he sees me, and I think that maybe he missed me too.
Ethan grabs Poppy’s hand and takes her to the dance floor, but Nessa takes a sidestep until her arm brushes against mine.
I look at her. “I’ll stay by your side. Dickwad won’t get closer.”
Smiling at her, I shake my head. I’ve seen the heated glances she exchanges with Liam, and I would hate for my cowardice to affect another relationship. “Nah, I need to speak with Cole anyway.”
“Okay…” she trails off, her eyes narrowing as she looks at him. “If you need me, do this”—she raises her fingers in a V hand and slaps the back of the other fist—“and I’ll be right there. It means save.”
I chuckle but hug her. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
The atmosphere in the room shifts as Cole approaches me, his presence commanding and his cologne wrapping around me. The thrum of the music fades into the background as he stops so close I can see the faint scar at the corner of his left eye.
“Would you like to dance?” he asks, a hint of hope in his voice.
I shake my head, wrapping my arms around myself and feeling a familiar tension rise inside me. “No, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
He leans in, his voice low. “We’re not enemies, Angel. You said it yourself.” He extends his hand.
“No, we’re not,” I agree, my voice steady despite the flutter in my chest. “But we’re not friends either.”
He hesitates, searching my face. “Why not try? For old times’ sake.”
“Because with you and me, it can never be just friendship,” I reply, the truth of my words stinging as I say them, but I still take his hand and follow him onto the dance floor.
He studies me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. “Is this your way of admitting you still love me?” he asks, a flicker of vulnerability crossing his features.
Sighing, I feel a pang of regret. “You were my first love, Cole. You said it yourself; we never forget our first. But that doesn’t mean…” I stop, not sure I know what I want to say next.
“Why tell me you’re not seeing anyone then? Why tell me James Dean is not your man?” he presses, pulling me closer against his body. “You didn’t have to admit I was the only one. You had to know what it would spark in me.”
I did know and did it anyway. I am just confused about my reasons.
“Does it make a difference?”
He shakes his head. “No. You are mine. I agreed to give you space, but that doesn’t mean I am giving up.”
My heart is racing, and I want to change the subject. “I received a call from Dr. Mahoney’s office. I know you’re behind it, and I don’t want your pity.”
He looks taken aback. “Angel, it’s probably my father’s doing. I told him what happened to you because of me. And for the record, I could never pity you. I’m in awe of you. I can’t stop wanting you.”
“You need to move on,” I whisper, but as I say the words, I feel a stabbing pain in the center of my chest.
“Like you have?” he challenges.
“I’m trying,” I admit, my defenses crumbling. “It was all a mistake. I shouldn’t have—we shouldn’t have.”
He smiles, cupping my cheek. We’re just standing there in the middle of the dance floor. “I don’t want to just sleep with you, Eva. I want to make love to you. To be with you, but I’m okay with just taking what you’re ready to give me.”
“Until you aren’t,” I mutter and shake my head.
He softens, his eyes holding mine. “Will you come to Vegas? Please.”
“No.” Poppy had mentioned, albeit a bit awkwardly, that if the team won this game, they’d be off to some exhibitions in Vegas. She’d said she’d love to go there with her girls. Nessa had agreed enthusiastically, and I pretended to speak with the girl sitting on the other side of me.
“Seeing you there would mean a lot to me.”
I hesitate, torn between the desire to be near him and the need to protect my heart. “Isn’t that blurring the lines?”
“Not really. We’re not enemies anymore, right? And you’re not asking me to stop loving you.”
“It’s implied,” I reply, my voice firm.
He rolls his eyes, “Nothing is implied between us. I need to show a little bit more patience until you are ready to admit that you still love me.”
“I never said I didn’t.” It slips out of my mouth before I can think better of it, and as his smile widens, I know these words are like fuel on the fire. “But I don’t want to,” I add, but he doesn’t care.
“Come to Vegas then. You’re strong enough to resist me, aren’t you, Angel?”
He’s goading me. I know he is, and I’m also not sure I am strong enough, but I’m also too proud, so I jerk my chin. “I can resist you, Cole Westbrook. You’re not half as cute as you think you are.”
“Oh yes, I am, and I know how you love everything about me.”
I roll my eyes despite the frantic beat of my heart. “Fine, I’ll go to Vegas if only to prove that I have no issue resisting you.”
“Fine. Game on.”
“What if I win?” I ask, crossing my arms on my chest.
“I won’t lie and tell you I’ll let you go because that’s insulting, but I promise to fully step back and wait for you to come to me.”
“Okay…” I’m almost scared to ask, but I don’t need to because his smile turns devious.
“But if I win, Evangeline Sinclair, you’re mine. And you will give me a second chance.”
“Fine!” I reply, and suddenly, his lips are on mine, kissing me here in the middle of a crowded living room.
“Why did you do that?” I ask breathlessly as soon as he breaks the kiss.
“Sealing the bet, Angel.”
The dance with Cole leaves me reeling. As I pull away, my thoughts whirl with confusion and a hint of fear. His kiss, so unexpected and public, still tingles on my lips, a burning reminder of the chemistry we can’t seem to escape.
I move to the room’s edge, needing space to gather my thoughts. Despite the party’s buzz, I feel alone, engulfed in a wave of emotions. His words replay in my mind: challenging, confident, unsettling. The idea of going to Vegas, being near him again, feels like a mistake, yet I find myself irresistibly drawn to it.
“Are you okay?” Nessa asks, her eyes full of concern.
I force a smile, not wanting to spoil her night. “Yeah, just… overwhelmed.”
She nods, understanding. “Men like him can have that effect.”
I look back at where he stands, surrounded by his teammates, the life of the party. He catches my gaze and winks, an arrogant, confident gesture that makes my heart skip a beat. I look away, but it’s too late. The seed of doubt is planted.
Did I fall into his trap? Agreeing to go to Vegas, to his challenge, feels like stepping into a game I’m not sure I can win. My resolve, my determination to keep my distance, suddenly seems fragile against the force of his will, his charisma.
I take a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart. I need to be strong, to remember why I need space, why I can’t let him pull me back into the chaos of our past. But as the music pulses around me and the laughter of the party fills the air, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m walking a tightrope and Cole Westbrook is waiting on the other side.
