I fucking hated Cole Nelson.
Chapter 23
Cole
Oh lord I had really fucked up this time. And Jesse proved it to me by not speaking more than a “good morning”to me for nearly three weeks. The man wouldn’t even look at me during breakfast. Anything that had to do with the business was communicated over email or text. In fact, the only time he acted like he tolerated me was during Mr. Whitaker’s monthly visit. But the moment the old lawyer went home, I was back in the doghouse.
And it was all my fuckin’ fault.
I couldn’t blame him. The words I’d said that night were unforgivable, born from panic and fear rather than truth. Jesse wasn’t some slut who’d manipulated me. He’d been honest from the start while I’d been the one hiding, denying, fighting what was between us at every turn.
Every morning I’d watch him move around the kitchen, making coffee in silence, his shoulders stiff whenever I entered the room. The distance between us felt like miles even when we sat at the same table. I’d catch myself staring at his hands, remembering how they felt on my skin, or at his mouth, recalling the taste of him. Then I’d force myself to look away before Evelyn noticed.
She never mentioned what she’d seen at the party, but I caught her watching us sometimes, her eyes sad. I wondered if she pitied us… two grown men who couldn’t figure out how to talk to each other.
I tried to apologize once, cornering Jesse in the barn when he was alone.
“I didn’t mean what I said,” I told him, my voice rough with regret. “I was scared, and I lashed out.”
He’d looked at me then, really looked at me for the first time in days, his hazel eyes hard with hurt.
“That’s the problem, Cole,” he’d said quietly. “When you get scared, you get cruel. And I won’t keep being your punching bag. Not anymore.”
He’d walked away after that, leaving me standing there with nothing but the hollow ache in my chest for his company.
I threw myself into ranch work, pushing my body until exhaustion dulled the pain. The beef business continued to thrive despite the tension between us. Orders poured in, and somehow, we managed to fulfill them without speaking more than absolutely necessary. The ranch hands noticed the change, exchanging glances when Jesse and I passed each other without a word, but they knew better than to ask.
Tonight, I sat alone at the kitchen table long after Evelyn had gone home, nursing a glass of whiskey and staring at the grain of the wood. Three weeks of silence. Three weeks of watching Jesse slip further away. Three weeks of knowing it was my fault.
The creak of the stairs made me look up. Jesse stood in the doorway, hesitating when he saw me. He wore sweatpants and a T-shirt, his hair damp from the shower.
“Sorry,” he muttered, turning to leave. “Didn’t know you were still up.”
“Wait,” I said, the word escaping before I could stop it. “Please.”
He paused, his back to me, shoulders tense.
“I miss you,” I admitted, my voice breaking on the words. “I miss us.”
Jesse turned slowly, his expression guarded. “There is no us, Cole. You made that pretty clear.”
“I was wrong,” I said, setting down my glass. “What I said to you... it was wrong and cruel and I didn’t mean any of it.”
“Then why the fuck did you say it?” he muttered in reply, his voice trembling. “Why do I always have to be the one you take your anger out on?”
I didn’t have a good answer for him. The truth was, Jesse had always been my safe target. Even when we were kids, I’d lash out at him when I was hurting, knowing he wouldn’t hit back. But he wasn’t a kid anymore, and neither was I.
“I don’t know,” I said honestly, rising from my chair. “It’s like... you’re the only one I can be real with. The only one who sees all of me. And sometimes that scares the hell out of me.”
Jesse leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. The defensive posture made my heart sink, but at least he was still here, still listening.
“That’s a shit excuse,” he said quietly. “Being scared doesn’t give you the right tohurtme.”
“I know,” I agreed, taking a cautious step toward him. “I know that, Jesse. And I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”
His jaw clenched as he looked away. “Do you have any idea what it feels like? To hear you say those things after...” He swallowed hard. “After I told you how I felt about you?”
The pain in his voice cut through me like a knife. I’d spent three weeks drowning in my own regret, but I hadn’t fully considered how deeply I’d wounded him with my words.
