“It matters to me.”
I tell him about Patricia and her comments on single mothers, the suspicious timing, stable family structures, and how it feels like the entire town is watching me, waiting for me to screw up.
Cole’s expression goes dark. “Give me her name.”
“What? No.”
“Rachel.”
“You can’t go fight my battles for me. That’s not how this works.”
“I’m not fighting your battles. I’m just going to have a conversation about basic human decency.” But he says it with this edge that suggests the conversation might involve his fists.
“Cole. Please. It’s not worth it.”
He studies my face for a long moment. Then he nods. “Okay. But if she says anything to you again, I want to know.”
“Deal.”
He’s still holding me. Still close enough that I can feel the warmth of him. My hands are resting on his chest, and I can feel his heartbeat under my palms.
“Come with me,” he says quietly.
“Where?”
“Rooftop. You need air.”
The Morgan house has a small rooftop access from Jake’s room—a flat square area that’s just big enough for two chairs and a view of the stars. Jake used to sneak up here as a teenager to avoid doing homework. I’d forgotten about it until Cole led me through the upstairs hallway.
The evening air hits my face when we step outside. Cooler now that the sun’s down. The sky is that deep blue purple that comes right before full dark, stars starting to appear in clusters.
Cole sits down with his back against the low wall. I sink down beside him, and without thinking, I lean into him. He wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me closer.
“Better?” he asks.
“Getting there.”
We sit in silence for a while. Just breathing. Just existing. The town spreads out below us—strings of streetlights, the distant glow of the lake, the soft sounds of evening settling in.
“I’m not good at this,” I say finally.
“At what?”
“Accepting help. Letting people take care of me.” I pick at a loose thread on my jeans. “Derek used to help me. Then he’d throw it in my face later. ‘Remember when I did this for you? Remember how much you needed me?’ Like every kind gesture came with strings attached.”
Cole’s quiet for a minute. “I’m not Derek.”
“I know.”
“Do you?” He shifts so he can look at me. “Because I’m not keeping score, Rachel. I’m here because I want to be. Not because I expect anything back.”
“Why?” The question comes out quietly. “Why do you even care?”
“You’re Jake’s sister, a good person who got dealt a bad hand. Because—” He stops, jaw working like he’s trying to figure outwhat to say next. “Because you matter. To Jake. To Tommy. To me.”
Chapter seven
Chapter 7
