When the trail opens out near the park, I’m hit with another unwanted sight.
Cole and Caspian. They’re side by side at the trailhead, stretching, cheeks flushed, laughing at something I can’t hear.
Caspian’s in fitted gear that probably costs more than Frankie’s whole garage. Cole’s drowning in an oversized hoodie and still looks so good it rips something open in me.
Caspian hands him a bottle of water. Their fingers brush. Cole tips his head back, throat working, then laughs again at whatever smooth bullshit Caspian just said.
We never ran together. Cole hated running. Said he’d only do it if there was a bear after him. So where’s the fucking bear?
Jealousy burns through me, hot and fast.
Caspian steadies his back when Cole leans too far into a stretch, and I almost groan out loud. Since when has Cole been that bendy? And would it kill Stone if he kept his hands off Cole in public spaces so I wouldn’t have to watch?
In my head, I walk over. I grab Cole by the hoodie and kiss him until I’m all he remembers.But that’s just a fantasy.
Reality is me standing here, locked out of my life while someone else gets the smiles, the touches, the parts of him I used to think were mine.
So I just jog off, lungs burning, the sound of their laughter fading to nothing.
Just like me.
COLE
This cursed week is ticking toward my date with James Lexington III. I pull into my parents’ driveway, park, and quickly text James that I’m running late.
“Remember, I’m meeting a grown-up friend for dinner,” I say when I unbuckle Noah.
“Why can’t Uncle Caspian come here?” he asks. “I want to see him too.”
I hide a smile. “Because it’s not Caspian I’m meeting, bud. Look, there’s Grandma.”
“Then who?” Noah persists. “Caspian’s your only friend.”
I sigh. He’s not wrong. Caspian’s been my best friend since the last one left four years ago.
Before that, there were more people, like Alex and Devon, my old bandmates. Things got weird between us after I literally became a dad overnight and had to cancel all our plans. They said they understood, but we drifted apart once they left for uni.
Mom gives me a critical once-over while somehow also checking her watch.
“What kept you? Judging by that Walmart George ensemble, it wasn’t choosing proper eveningwear.”
“Life kept me,” I mutter. “Didn’t have time to change. I’ll add the diamond tiara next time.”
She sighs. “No need to get cheeky. You’d look dashing if you made even a little effort. Great bone structure, nice hair, although a little trim wouldn’t kill you.” She touches my cheek, brief but warm. “I know you’ve got money. Why not ask where James gets his suits? They’re impeccable.”
“If I ever want to wear something by Posh and Pretentious, James will be my first call.”
She sighs again but perks up. “I had the maid organize all my jewelry in the living room by genre. I’ll teach Noah about value, and the proper occasions for a gentleman to gift his beloved a diamond brooch.”
“Sounds like a fun night,” I say to Noah, then turn to Mom. “One hour, okay? That’s his bedtime.”
As the door closes, I hear Noah ask, “Grandma, did dinosaurs wear bracelets?”
Fifteen minutes later, I step into Maison Argent, the poshest restaurant near Baywood.
James stands up and kisses my cheek. He lingers, the faint cologne cloud following me as he pulls out my chair, brushing my shoulder on the way. His hand stays a second too long at the back of my chair, like I need help sitting.
What’s next? A subtle ear lick?
