I finally convinced Keller I needed to see Cole now. He kept saying Cole’s safe, but I had to see it with my own eyes.
Not just that Cole’s alive and safe.That he’s okay.
I didn't expect to walk in while he was telling Frankie we “just had a blip,” like Frankie was silly for even asking.
I didn’t expect my knees to give out right after.
Now I’m stretched on Cole’s couch with a medic leaning over me. He’s stitching my cheek — or maybe sticking acupuncture needles for all I can tell.
I’ve had a shot of pain relief, but nothing beats the real medicine: Cole gripping my hand.
His grip isn’t just protective. It’s desperate. I can tell he’s trying to be the calm one, but every tremor gives him away. Fury, fear, love he can’t quite cage.
He thinks I’m asleep when he leans in and whispers that he loves me. His voice shakes just a little. My chest burns hotter than my ribs when he goes scarlet after I open my eyes and whisper that I love him too.
He presses a kiss to my forehead, lingering just long enough that I feel how badly he wants more.
I can’t wait until I’m healed enough to kiss him back the way I want.
Kate’s voice drifts in from somewhere above my head, recommending a kale smoothie recipe. Cole listens in horrified silence.
“You’d make a great team with Caspian,” he mutters.
“Yes, he did mention your high caffeine intake,” Kate says smoothly. “Among other health issues.”
I huff a laugh but regret it immediately when it pulls my ribs.
“You’ve upset the patient,” Cole says, glaring at Kate like she’s prescribed me arsenic. “Shouldn’t you be in the guest room, sleeping? I thought you were all about healthy lifestyle choices.” There’s too much heat in his voice for it to be just annoyance. He’s not only snapping at her, he’s protecting me with all that he’s got.
Kate gets the hint and retreats upstairs soon after.
Drifting in and out of sleep, I feel Cole easing down beside me, careful but close enough that our legs touch. He strokes my hair slowly, like he’s reassuring himself I’m still here.
I close my eyes, feeling an odd floating sensation, not sure if I’m awake or asleep. I think Cole’s singing, but that must be a dream. Or a hallucination. Or a memory, because he’s singingThis Night,but he soundsexactly like then — my eighteenth birthday, him pale with nerves and clutching his guitar like a shield. Back then, I couldn’t believe he’d remembered, carried a detail from our drive up to Pisgah. My favorite track that year, the one I’d played on repeat just to see him roll his eyes and then secretly hum along. Back then, when he had finished singing, flustered and perfect, Dad showed up with his lopsided cake and tried to cover the fact he was misting up.
Did that really happen just now, or is the memory playing tricks on me? I swear I can smell the cheap frosting.
Cole’s hand is wrapped around mine, thumb tracing. He’s braver than he was then, but I can hear the same tremor under the note. Still, he draws courage from the song, like always, and the more he sings, the steadier he gets.
I whisper, rough and broken, “You’re gonna kill me, Hudson.”
His eyes dart to mine, startled that I’m awake.
“You sing that and I’m right back in that tent at Pisgah,” I murmur, lips tugging even through the ache. “The hottest night of my life.”
Color floods his cheeks. “Stop it.”
“Best time ever,” I add, teasing him. Loving the way his breath hitches. He leans down then, pressing another soft kiss to my forehead. Tender. Restrained. But the heat in his eyes promises the rest, once I’m healed.
I drift again. At least I think so because no way in hell did Cole just whisper: “FYI: our hottest night hasn’t happened yet.”
My pulse spikes. Dream or not, I’ll be holding onto that.
COLE
Xaden’s sprawled on the couch like gravity finally won. One arm covers the side of his face that didn’t need stitches, his chest risingand falling in the slow, steady rhythm of real rest. The bruising along his ribs is still visible, though, and every time I look at it, a fresh wave of fury hits. When I saw what they’d done to him, to my beautiful, gentle Xaden, I had violent thoughts for the first time in my life.
I’ve been up for hours, unable to settle. Kate’s gone now, but we swapped numbers. Mom will drop Noah home after lunch. The house feels too still and too quiet without Noah running around with his toys.
