Her child became an afterthought. It was only alcohol at first, but when that didn’t seem to do the trick anymore, she turned to drugs instead. A few lines turned into pills, which turned into heroin, and before long, the only thing she cared about was her next fix. When the neighbors found me digging through the trash for the second time in the span of a week because my mom hadn’t been home in days and the hunger pains became unbearable, CPS was alerted, and I entered the foster system.
I was seven years old.
I may have been young, but watching your own mother turn into someone you no longer recognize tends to leave a lasting impression, and I’ve been hyperconscious of my alcohol consumption ever since. I made it a point not to open a bottle after a particularly shitty day at work. It’s not unusual for someone in my position to de-stress with a glass of whatever your choice of poison may be. You see a lot of shit you’d rather forget in law enforcement, and it would’ve been so easy to use booze as a crutch.
Not me. I refused to end up like her. But ever since that fateful day, I’ve found myself staring at the bottom of a bottle one too many times. Too consumed by grief to give a shit about anyone else, let alone myself. Using them as an excuse to be weak. Elena would be fucking ashamed of me if she could see me now. My heart squeezes painfully in my chest at the thought of her. My stomach revolts as I push through the front door of my cabin and make my way straight into the bathroom, just in time for the retching to begin. Once I’m done, I flush, washing away the evidence of my guilt, and sit with my back against the wall for what feels like hours. Then I drag myself to my feet and crawl into bed, where I cry myself to sleep for the first time in months.
thirteen
Charlie
Ikeep myself busy for most of the day, working on giving the resort’s website an overhaul and checking on the place before I decide to pay Cole a visit. Judging by his strange behavior this morning, I can only assume he falsely believes we had sex last night, and for some reason, that possibility caused him a tremendous amount of discomfort. I need to set the record straight so he doesn’t beat himself up over something that never happened. I may think he deserves to suffer just a little for storming out of my place like a child, unwilling to hear me out, but I’m not a total asshole. The man obviously hates the thought of being intimate with me, and I don’t want to be the reason he keeps torturing himself. Talk about a swift kick to the old self-esteem.
I raise my fist and knock on the door before I step back and wait for him to answer. It takes longer than expected, but his heavy footsteps finally approach and I straighten my shoulders as I prepare myself to face him. The first thing I notice is that he looks like hell warmed over. It’s obvious he’d been sleeping and that he’s still very much hungover, despite the extra hours of shuteye. The second thing I notice is his broad chest and thick, muscled thighs. He’s standing there in nothing but black boxer briefs, and the fact that my mouth literally waters at the sight pisses me off just a little bit. Especially now that I know the attraction is very much one-sided.
“It’s not a good time, Charlie,” he tells me in his gravelly voice while he looks at me with those haunted eyes. There are faint lines on his cheeks where the seams of his pillow have embedded themselves into his skin, and for some reason, I find that more endearing than it should be. It makes him seem more human, somehow. Less perfect.
“I disagree,” I tell him as I shove past and step into his humble abode. He wasn’t lying when he claimed the carpets smell, and admitting that he’s right, even just to myself, only irritates me further. I wait for him to shut the door and watch him pad into the kitchen on bare feet, where he begins preparing a pot of much-needed coffee. He presses the power button and finally hasthe decency to face me as he leans against the kitchen counter and folds his arms across his chest.
I take a seat on the floral sofa and scrunch up my nose when a cloud of dust rises into the air, making the particles dance in the sunlight.
“I came here to tell you that I think you had the wrong idea when you woke up in my bed this morning. I would’ve set you straight, but you kept cutting me off and stormed out before I had a chance to tell you.”
“Tell me what?”
“That nothing happened between us last night.”
The unfiltered hope lighting up his gold-speckled irises hurts more than I’d like to admit. Is the thought of sleeping with me really so revolting? I mean, I’m aware I’m a little curvier than a woman should be by society’s standards, but I’m not a freaking whale, either. I know I’m not ugly. There’ve been enough men showing interest over the years to make me believe I’m not a total toad.
I swallow the emotion down and force myself to lift my chin as I meet his glassy eyes.
“I’m assuming you don’t remember what happened after the alcohol hit, but the reason you slept in my bed wasn’t that we had, erm, relations,” I say, dropping my gaze to hide my embarrassment. “I didn’t think you were in any condition to find your way back to your cabin, so I offered up my couch. Turns out, your job required you to sleep in some questionable places, and you weren’t going to settle for anything less than a warm bed. You did say you didn’t mind sharing. Thank you very much for that generous offer, by the way,” I say, barely suppressing an eyeroll. “But I wasn’t going to get into bed with a stranger. I mean, we’ve only known each other for a couple of weeks. Plus, by that time you’d already taken off your underwear, and I really didn’t want to risk certain parts of yours accidentally crossing over that invisible line and rubbing up against my backside. Again. We barely know each other, and you were quite drunk. Anyway,” I finish, throwing up my hands in exasperation.
I’ve always been a nervous rambler. An annoying habit I’d be all too happy to kick, but probably never would.
“The point is, I slept on the couch. Nothing happened. We didn’t so much as kiss, so you can stop feeling guilty, or sleazy, or disgusted, or whatever else it was that put that look on your face this morning. Your virtue is still very much intact.”
Cole studies me for several painful beats, in which I busy myself by rubbing my thumbs together to keep from screaming. Then he calmly turns around, takes two mugs out of the cabinet, and holds one out to me in silent question. I give him a curt nod, and heproceeds to pour us each a cup, going as far as preparing it exactly the way I like it. Not at all surprising, really. The man is a freaking federal agent. It’s his job to be perceptive. When he’s done, he places my drink on the coffee table and plops himself into the seat across from me. He cups his mug with both hands and blows the steam off the top before he takes a tentative sip. Then he finally looks at me.
“Thank you for coming over to let me know. And I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions and acting like a toddler. I’ll admit I was feeling a little raw this morning when I thought you and I had…”
He trails off and I swallow hard, trying to hide the blush that is surely creeping up my throat behind my own mug, but Cole doesn’t seem to notice my growing discomfort.
“I want you to know that I didn’t run out on you because I was disgusted. Fuck, Tink, you have no idea how stunning you are, do you? Trust me when I say, disgusting is the last word I’d use to describe you, and if I wasn’t so messed up, I’d have fucked you within ten minutes of meeting you.”
“What makes you think I’m that easy?” I ask, and we share a grin as the tension slowly begins to dissipate.
“There are some things in my past that I’m not quite ready to open up about, and when I thought something had happened between us, I handled the situation poorly. I’m sorry if I gaveyou the impression that you’re not desirable. My behavior had nothing to do with you. The truth is, I simply needed some time to process.”
“And did you?”
Cole huffs out a humorless chuckle. “No. I spent a half hour puking my guts up and then cried into my pillow like a little bitch before I passed out. Only just joined the land of the living again when you banged on my door.”
The thought of this strong, badass man crying himself to sleep is almost unfathomable, and, not for the first time, I wonder what happened to cause him such torment. But I know from personal experience that trusting others with your pain is not easy for people like us, so I don’t pry.
“Well, you can stop beating yourself up about it. You may have flashed me your goods, but I’m honorable enough not to take advantage of a guy who clearly can’t hold his liquor. You’re lucky you were with me and not some horny cougar, because let me tell you, you might be an ass, but that backside of yours is pretty irresistible.”
Cole cracks a smile and leans back in his seat, visibly more at ease now that he knows he hasn’t been accosted.
