Cole: You have no idea.
I sit there, staring at our last few messages, my heart racing and my palms clammy.
How the hell am I going to walk into his apartment tomorrow morning and look him in the eye?
28
FREYA
“No, no, no, no,” I chant as my engine dies and I begin a slow, painful roll to the side of the road.
She didn’t want to start this morning. That should have been my sign to call an Uber. But no. I trusted that she’d get me to Cole’s place in time for breakfast, and I hopped in. Bad decision.
The car rocks as others drive past me; a couple even beep their horns as if that’ll help the situation.
It’s not an overly busy road. Thankfully, I’m only a couple of miles from my parents’. I haven’t hit the busy city traffic yet.
Resting my head back, I close my eyes and pray for a miracle.
I know it isn’t going to come, that isn’t how my life works, but still, I reach for the key and turn it.
She tries, she really does. But there’s nothing.
“Argh,” I cry as I reach for my purse sitting on the passenger seat.
I dig around inside until my fingers brush my cell, and then I pull it free.
Memories of messaging Cole last night linger in my head. How can they not? The things he told me…the thought of himstanding in his bedroom, watching me sleep in nothing but my lacy lingerie...
Surely, he was just teasing. He can’t have done that.
He…
Shaking my head, I find his contact, but my thumb hovers above it, refusing to make the call.
He’d come for me in a heartbeat; I know he would.
He’ll be awake and in his home gym.
I’ll totally ruin his morning.
After weighing the options, I close my contacts and open my Uber app instead.
I’m a fully grown woman who can sort out her own problems.
My first priority is getting Cole his breakfast so he’s fueled up for training. My car can be dealt with after that.
I’ll be a big girl, and I won’t even call Dad. I’ll just speak to the garage and ask them nicely to collect it. It’ll all be fine, and I’ll more than likely be on the road again before the end of the day.
I continue lying to myself as I book my ride. Thankfully, it’s only a few minutes away, so by the time I’ve sorted my stuff out, the Uber driver’s pulling up behind me.
“For Freya?” I ask, pulling the back door open.
“Uh…yeah,” the driver says, looking between my car and me with a deep frown. “Are you just going to leave that there?”
“Trust me, if I could move it, I’d be driving it right now,” I point out as I drop into the back of his car.
“Someone is on their way to get it,” I lie. “But I really need to get to work.”
