“You didn’t know?”
I almost turned to face him. I even tilted my head some. But Cole kept talking, saving me the need to finish the turn.
“Jesus, what has your father told you about us?”
I told him the high-level stuff. The accusations, the names, the fear that he’d put into me. I didn’t tell him anything else, though, frankly because there wasn’t much else.
“He never told you that our father died a little over a year ago?”
“He would sometimes come home happy and excited and talk about having struck a critical blow to the Reapers,” I said. “But he never said, like, ‘I killed Cole’s father,’ or ‘I killed this guy.’ He seemed to think I was fragile and couldn’t face the harsh realities of life. He wasn’t exactly wrong.”
“That sucks,” Cole said. “I’m sorry your father is like that.”
I don’t know why that was the point where I lost control. But maybe it was just the final blow of the hammer to my emotional psyche, the one that turned a crack into a full-blown collapse. Maybe it was just the straightforward nature of Cole’s words.
Whatever it was, it had me in tears. And when these tears came out, they were not tears punctuated by a sniffle every so often. These were the cries of a woman mourning the fact that she’d never grown up, had never had a proper childhood, and had seemingly fallen behind in life by a decade or so.
I buried my head in my hands. I knew Cole could see me, but I didn’t want to see myself. I just wanted to sink into this couch, to drown in my tears, and land at the bottom, emerging only when it was safe. But…
Cole put his arm around me.
He would not let me drown.
He was showing that him having my back was not just cheap talk. It was serious. It was genuine.
I still cried. I still sobbed and groaned like a hysterical woman at a funeral. But I didn’t get any worse.
I didn’t lean into Cole, but I didn’t resist him either. I appreciated the gesture, and even could admit that it was making me feel certain things... but those were feelings I couldn’t readily access, nor was I sure I wanted to access them even if I could.
“I don’t know why you’re helping me,” I said. “No one has ever seen this side of me and been OK with it. I don’t even know that anyone’s seen this side, period.”
Cole just squeezed tighter and leaned his head against mine. Again, I did not lean into him, but I did not pull away either. To say I was confused was the biggest understatement I could make.
“Tell me,” I said, finally tired of the focus being on me. “What was it like having an older brother? I’m an only child, so I have never known what it was like to be a sister to anyone.”
“Well, let’s see, am I allowed to write a half-dozen books about the number of fights that we had?” Cole said.
For the first time since I’d gotten back to Cole’s place—really, for the first time in a long time—I laughed, and it wasn’t with sarcasm or the intent of deflecting something harsh or unfair. I just genuinely felt comfortable around Cole.
I feel comfortable. I do. I really do.
“Our relationship has always been kind of strained,” he said. “He blames me for... well…”
“For what?”
He shrugged.
“Something with my mother. I try not to think about it. She died a while ago.”
What happened?
“But anyway, because of what happened, growing up, it always felt like he was picking on me. Blaming me for things, saying I was at fault, that sort of thing. I’d go back at him, calling him an arrogant shithead, you know, brotherly love. I’ll admit I got jealous of him from time to time, especially when he got... well, yeah, I got jealous of him from time to time.”
It was painfully obvious there was much more to Cole than what was expressed.
But it was equally obvious the same was true for me, and I sure wasn’t in a position to confess those things.
“We had a falling out about a year and a half ago over some things, but slowly, it’s getting better, so, yeah, that’s that,” Cole said. “What’s it like being an only child?”
