surfacing from deep water, my head heavy and thoughts hazy. The first thing I register is the warmth enveloping me, a sense of comfort that feels both foreign and familiar. As my eyes flutter open, I’m met with the sight of Cole’s chest, rising and falling steadily under my cheek. Panic flutters in my chest—how did I end up in his arms?
Memories from last night are patchy at best. Champagne, laughter, the soft lull of music. But everything after the show blurs into a foggy mess. Yet, lying here with him, there’s an undeniable rightness that battles with my confusion.
He stirs, his arms tightening around me, drawing me up. His lips find my neck, and his gentle kisses send shivers down my spine. “Morning,” he murmurs, his voice raspy with sleep.
I pull back slightly to see his sleepy face and blond hair sprawled on the pillow. “Did we… last night, did we do anything?” I blurt out, my voice tinged with uncertainty.
His lips curl into a half smile. “You’ll have to be more specific. We did a lot of things.” His fingertips brush my lips.
Heat floods my cheeks. “I mean… did we have sex?”
“No,” he says, eyes locking with mine. “But it’s definitely on the agenda now.” He tightens his grip around my waist and flips us so I’m on my back, his face hovering above mine.
Despite the chaos in my mind, I don’t push him away. His closeness, his touch, it’s all too tempting. “That’s a bad idea,” I whisper, even as my body betrays my words, my nipples hardening and my panties dampening as his fingers trace circles on my lower belly.
“Why?” He caresses my neck with his lips. “We could be friends with benefits.”
“We’re not friends,” I try to argue, clinging to a shred of reason.
He chuckles. “Fine, acquaintances with benefits?” His hand slips into my underwear, and I part my legs almost instinctively, revealing my undeniable arousal.
He groans, his hardness pressing against me as he slides his fingers inside.
“I think that’s called a one-night stand,” I manage to say, a moan escaping me as he adds another finger.
“Call it what you want, as long as I get to kiss you, taste you, bury myself in you.” His words are a whisper against my lips as he kisses me deeply, his fingers moving faster inside me, his thumb pressing on my clit.
Just as I’m about to climax, he stops, leaving me gasping in frustration. “I’ll give you what you need, Angel,” he murmurs, sliding off my underwear and positioning himself, his bare length teasing my entrance.
I trust him now, knowing I’m on the pill and safe. Our eyes lock, and we lose ourselves to each other. His movements are slow, deliberate, drawing out each sensation. He whispers in my ear, “You love me, don’t you, Evangeline? Despite everything, you do, don’t you?”
On the edge of sanity, teetering on the brink of an earth-shattering orgasm, I can’t hold back the truth. “Yes,” I breathe out, and he kisses me fiercely, passionately, and I come, my cry muffled by his searing kiss.
His thrusts become harder, and I respond in the way I know he loves, my heels on his muscular back, spreading myself wider, digging my nails into his skin, and sucking on his neck.
He climaxes with a roar, my name on his lips, collapsing on top of me. “Here you are,” he whispers against my neck, licking it lazily. “My girl is back.”
At that moment, I can’t deny it. I am his girl, even when I don’t want to be.
Cole pulls out of me and rolls to the side, taking me along with him, our bodies fitting together as if made for this very moment. He holds me close, his heartbeat a steady rhythm against my ear. There’s a vulnerability in his embrace that I’ve never really felt from him before.
“I’m almost scared to wake up and find this isn’t real,” he whispers, his voice tinged with a fear he rarely shows.
His words echo in my mind, mirroring my own fears. The ease of lying here with him, how natural it feels, terrifies me. I’ve spent so long building walls, and now they’re crumbling without my permission.
“Shouldn’t you be getting ready for the game?” I ask, peeking at the alarm on the nightstand, partly to distract myself from the intensity of the moment.
He tightens his hold, a knowing smile in his voice. “Ah, I was wondering how long it would take for you to start running away again.”
“I’m not running,” I protest weakly, but it sounds unconvincing, even to my own ears.
“Yes, you are. But it’s okay.” His breath is warm against my skin. “I’m patient and persistent. I’ll be here when you’re ready.” He tightens his hold on me. “You’re mine,” he says, and it’s a declaration that should scare me more than it does.
I try to laugh it off. “Someone’s confident.”
He pulls back to look at me, his eyes serious. “It’s not about confidence. Fate gave you to me twice. I learn fast.” Then he kisses me, a soft, lingering kiss that speaks of promises and unspoken dreams.
“I’ll go get breakfast,” he murmurs against my lips. “I know you’ll be gone before I come back. So I’ll soak in this moment a minute more.” There’s a wistfulness in his voice, a resignation to the inevitable.
His words hang heavy in the air as he gets out of bed and jumps into a pair of gray sweats and a white T-shirt that are resting on a chair in a corner. “Because now that I’m out of this bed, I don’t know how long it will be before you allow me in again.”
Watching him walk away, a complex mix of emotions swirls inside me. Fear, longing, and a deep, undeniable connection.
The moment the door clicks shut behind Cole, I spring into action. It’s like an instinctive response made of guilt and self-preservation. I rush to the bathroom, my movements hurried and a little clumsy. After using the toilet, I scramble to gather my clothes, each piece feeling like a tangible reminder of my pending “walk of shame.”
Slipping out of the room, my heart pounds in a frantic rhythm. The hallway is mercifully empty as I take the stairs to the floor above.
Once I reach my room, I don’t bother to check if Nessa is back. I need to wash away the remnants of Cole from my skin to try and cleanse the overwhelming sensations and emotions that cling to me.
The shower is scalding, steam fogging up the mirror and enveloping me in a cloud of heat. I stand under the spray, letting the water cascade over me, trying to wash away the traces of last night. As the water runs down my skin, it’s not just him I’m trying to scrub away—it’s the confusion, the fear, the undeniable truth of my feelings for him.
I shampoo my hair twice, lathering my body repeatedly, but no amount of soap and water can cleanse the memories, the feelings that are rooted deep inside. The way he looked at me, the sound of his voice, the gentle yet desperate way he touched me—they’re imprinted in my mind, refusing to be washed away.
In that steam-filled bathroom, I know I can’t keep running forever. Sooner or later, I’ll have to face what I feel for Cole, confront the truth of what lies between us. I need to be all in or find the strength to break it off completely because I know that by playing this back-and-forth, I’ll end up hurting us both.
For now, I wrap the towel tighter around myself, trying to hold on to the remnants of my resolve, my independence, and my attempt to keep my heart guarded.
Stepping out of the bathroom, I find Nessa in the room, a knowing grin playing on her lips. “How was your night?” she asks, her tone teasing.
I counter, trying to keep my voice casual, “How was yours?”
Her smile widens, a sparkle in her eyes. “Actually, I came back earlier, and you weren’t here. I was worried, but then Liam sent me a photo of your shoes and bag in the room he’s sharing with Cole. I figured you were okay.”
My heart skips a beat at the mention of Liam knowing where I was. “Cole and I—” I start, but the words get stuck in my throat.
Nessa laughs. A light, carefree sound. “Oh, I know what you two did. No need to explain.”
Sitting down on the edge of the bed, I let out a heavy sigh. “It’s complicated,” I say, my voice a mix of resignation and confusion.
Nessa sits beside me, her hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair from my face—a gesture of sisterly comfort. Her eyes, usually so full of playfulness, hold a gentle understanding as she studies my face. “Isn’t it always with men?” she asks, her tone hinting at shared experiences of heartache and love. “But hey, you’re both adults. As long as you’re happy, that’s what matters.”
Glancing back at her, I’m grateful for her understanding and support. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” I admit. “One moment, I’m determined to keep my distance, and the next, I’m… with him. It’s like I lose all sense of control.”
She squeezes my hand. “It’s okay to be confused. Just don’t be too hard on yourself. Love, or whatever it is you’re feeling, can be messy. But it’s also the thing that makes life worth living.”
Her words are a balm to my confused heart. Maybe she’s right. Maybe I need to allow myself to feel, to experience whatever this is with Cole, without overthinking every step.
“You know,” she starts, her voice lighter but with an undertone of seriousness, “life’s too short to have regrets. You should grab happiness wherever you can find it.”
I nod, absorbing her words, but I can’t help noticing the slight waver in her voice. “What about you? Are you… grabbing your happiness?” I ask tentatively, curious about the guarded look that momentarily flickered in her eyes.
For a brief second, her smile falters, and she looks away. “Oh, you know me,” she says with a laugh that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m all for living in the moment. But sometimes, the moment catches you off guard.”
Her words hang in the air, loaded with meanings. I want to press further, to understand the hidden depths of her statement, but I hesitate. Nessa has always been the strong, unflappable one, and seeing this crack in her armor is both surprising and concerning.
“Is everything okay with… you know, the moment you’re in now?” I venture cautiously, aware that I’m treading on potentially sensitive ground.
Nessa promptly recovers her composure, the mask of nonchalance firmly back in place. “Oh, absolutely,” she replies, a bit too fast. “Just enjoying the ride, you know? Life’s a game, and I’m playing it.”
But the way she avoids my gaze tells a different story. It’s clear that there’s more going on beneath her carefree exterior. Whatever is happening in her life, especially concerning “the moment” she’s caught up in, it’s affecting her more than she’s letting on.
She stands up before I can press her further. “Get dressed; I’ll get Poppy and bring you breakfast. We have a lot to do today.” Her tone is brisk, leaving no room for argument.
I nod, appreciating her effort to keep the day upbeat. We do have a full day of activities and I start to think that getting out and about might be what I need to clear my head.
The day turns out to be a whirlwind. Nessa, Poppy, and I hit the outlet mall, laughing and shopping like there’s no tomorrow. It’s a welcome distraction, letting me immerse myself in the simple joys of friendship and retail therapy.
Later, we make our way to the game. We’re given amazing seats in the friends and family section, a perk of being connected to the players. The stadium is alive with energy, the crowd buzzing with anticipation.
As the game starts, my eyes are drawn to Cole. He moves with his usual grace and precision, a true athlete. Watching him, I’m reminded of the fluidity of his movements this morning, the way he seemed to know my body as well as his own.
But then, in a heart-stopping moment, everything changes. There’s a rough play, a clash of bodies, Cole and an opponent crash to the ground, a tangle of limbs, and grimaces of pain. The referee blows his whistle, signaling a foul play, and a red card slices through the air. But my gaze is glued to Cole, who lies motionless on the green turf.
Panic seizes me, cold and unyielding. My heart feels like it’s in my throat, each beat a drum of fear. I barely register the crowd’s reactions, their gasps and shouts fading into a distant buzz. I see the athletic trainers rushing onto the field, their movements urgent.
“Cole,” I whisper, ignoring my friends standing beside me.
I’m on my feet before I know it, my body acting on a primal instinct to be near him. I make my way through the crowd, my vision blurred by tears that threaten to spill over. Pushing past people, I hear my name called by Nessa and Poppy, but I can’t stop, can’t think beyond the overwhelming need to reach him.
Reaching the entrance of the players’ tunnel, I’m met with the stern faces of security guards. “I need to see him. I’m his girlfriend,” I plead, my voice breaking with emotion.
They exchange uncertain looks, clearly unprepared for this situation. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but we can’t let anyone through without proper authorization.”
“Please,” I beg, my hands clasped in front of me, the tears now freely flowing down my cheeks. “He’s everything to me. I need to know he’s okay.”
My heart pounds against my rib cage, each second feeling like an eternity. Just as I’m about to plead again, a familiar figure appears—Liam. His face is etched with concern, but there’s an authority in his stride that commands attention.
“Let her in,” he says firmly to the guards. His presence changes the atmosphere, and the guards step aside without further protest.
Rushing through the tunnel, a maze of concrete and echoes, my only thought is of reaching Cole. The cool air of the tunnel does nothing to quell the heat of my worry. My footsteps echo loudly, each step bringing me closer to him.
Finally, I reach the medical room, the door swinging open to reveal Cole shirtless on an examination table, a medic tending to a cut on his forehead. Relief floods through me at the sight of him conscious, but it does little to ease the knot of worry in my stomach.
“How is he?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper as I move closer.
“Just a mild concussion,” the medic replies, giving me a reassuring smile.
Approaching him, my hand trembles as I reach out to touch his face. He looks up at me, and there’s a glint of his usual humor in his eyes despite the situation. “Well, if I knew it would make you react like this, I’d have gotten hurt way before.”
Despite the fear, I can’t help but smile back. His light-hearted comment, so typical of him, eases some of the tension in my heart. I realize then, more than ever, how deeply I care for him and how intertwined our lives are.
As I stand beside him, my eyes are drawn to a violin tattoo on his side—”Angel’s memories.” It’s a new addition, one I haven’t seen before, and a clear reference to me. My heart flutters, a mix of emotions twisting inside me. I trace my fingers over the ink, feeling the contours of each letter against his skin. His response is immediate, goose bumps rippling across his skin at my touch.
“Why?”
Cole turns his head to look at me, his eyes holding a depth of emotion that’s rare for him to show. “Because I can never forget what I did to you or the helplessness I felt when I found out I could have lost you. Never again, Angel. Never again.”
His words resonate deep within me, stirring a tumult of feelings—forgiveness, pain, and a burgeoning sense of hope. The tattoo, a permanent reminder etched on his skin, speaks volumes of his remorse and the depth of his feelings for me.
In the midst of this whirlwind of emotions, I lean in and initiate a kiss, a bold move driven by relief and a desire to bridge the distance between us. It’s a kiss that says more than words ever could—a mix of apology, acceptance, and a tentative step toward something new and hopeful.
As we break the kiss, he looks at me with a hint of his usual playful arrogance, yet there’s a softness in his eyes that wasn’t there before. “Did I win our bet?” he asks, his arms enveloping me in a warm embrace. “Are you mine?”
His question, though asked lightly, carries a weight of meaning. I pause, considering everything that’s happened, everything we’ve been through. “I need to figure out a couple of things,” I admit, feeling a sense of honesty and clarity I hadn’t felt before. “But I think we need to sit down and discuss this seriously when we’re back at Silverbrook, okay?”
I cock my head to the side, searching his face for understanding. “Can you do that? Give me a few more days?”
Cole studies me for a moment, and then a slow smile spreads across his face. “I can do that. Take all the time you need. I’ll be here.”
Despite my earlier thoughts of leaving, I find myself hesitating at the door. The idea of leaving him alone, especially with a concussion, gnaws at me. There’s a pull, a connection that I can’t seem to break—nor am I sure I want to. I turn back, my decision made. I can’t leave him, not like this.
He looks at me, a question in his eyes as I approach the bed again. “I thought you were leaving,” he says, his voice tinged with a vulnerability I’ve rarely seen in him.
“I was,” I admit, taking a seat beside him. “But I can’t. Not when you’re hurt. I’ll stay with you, at least until you’re cleared by the medic.”
A grateful smile touches his lips, and he reaches for my hand, his grip firm yet gentle. In that small gesture, there’s a sense of comfort, of unspoken understanding.
As I sit beside him, I find myself unconsciously leaning into his warmth, my body betraying the words I had rehearsed about needing space. The confusion I had felt earlier seems to dissolve, and in its place, a silent acceptance settles inside me. I catch myself tracing the lines of his palm, a gesture of connection and certainty more than any words could convey.
My heart has already made that choice. Despite the risks. Despite the fear. What I really need is to find the strength within myself, the assurance that I can survive whatever may come, even if he betrays me again.
