“Keeping you safe. That’s the deal. That’s what this…” He takes a breath. “That’s what you mean to me.”
“What do I mean to you?” My voice comes out smaller than I intended.
He pulls back so I have to look at him. His eyes are intense and afraid in a way I haven’t seen before.
“Everything,” he says. “You mean everything. And when I heard your voice out there, when I realized you were in danger because of me…” He swallows. “I can’t lose someone else. Not like that. Not you.”
Tears burn behind my eyes. “You won’t lose me.”
“You don’t know that. Nobody knows that. Emma didn’t know. One minute she was laughing on the phone, the next…” He shakes his head. “I couldn’t save her. But I can save you. And I will. Every time. As many times as it takes.”
“Cole—”
“I need you to understand.” He cups my face, and his thumbs brush my cheekbones. “What you said about being convenient and people only picking you when it’s easy.”
I bite my lip.
“You’re not convenient.” His voice is fierce. “You’re necessary. You’re…” He pauses. “You’re the first thing that’s made sense in three years. The first person who’s made me want to try again. To open that door instead of keeping it locked.”
“The closet door with all the Christmas things.”
“Yeah. But it’s not just Christmas. It’s living instead of existing and letting someone in instead of staying alone because it’s safer.”
“Is it? Safer?”
“I thought so. But you know what’s actually safe?” He leans his forehead against mine. “This. You. Choosing to be brave enough to care about someone even when it’s terrifying.”
A tear spills over, and he catches it with his thumb.
“I’m terrified,” I admit. “Of getting hurt again. Of being the placeholder. Of?—”
“You’re not. I promise you, Holly. You’re not convenient. You’re not a placeholder. You’re the person I want. The person I choose. On purpose. Not because you’re here. Because you’re you.”
More tears fall. I don’t try to stop them.
“I’ve never…” My voice breaks. “I’ve never had someone pick me like that.”
“Then let me be the first.”
He kisses me. Soft at first, then deeper when I open for him. His hands slide into my hair, and I grip his shirt, pulling him closer, needing him closer, to feel his weight and heat and certainty.
He makes a sound low in his throat and pulls me onto his lap. I straddle him, aware of the hard length of him beneath me, separated only by thin layers of fabric.
My temperature rises. “Cole?—”
“I need you,” he says against my mouth. “Need to feel you. Need to know you’re here. Safe. Mine.”
“I’m here. I’m yours.”
His hands slide under my shirt, rough palms against bare skin, and I arch into him. He groans. “I want this. You.”
“Yes.”
“Holly—”
“I’m sure, Cole. I want you. I want to know what it feels like to be chosen on purpose. And…” I take a breath. “I told you that I’ve never done this before. So I need you to be patient with me.”
His expression softens. “I remember. And I will be. I promise you, Holly. We’ll go at your pace. You tell me if it doesn’t feel right. You tell me to stop, and I stop. Understand?”
