The words hit, and everything inside me goes still. No thoughts. No feelings. Just a sudden, brutal emptiness.
“You’re too young,” he continues, voice tight. “Sixteen years younger than me.” He drags a hand over his mouth like he’s trying to wipe away the moment. “I’m not built for this. I live alone. I’ve closed myself off.”
“Cole,” I breathe, the name breaking apart on my tongue.
He shakes his head, sharper this time. “It’s not going to open again.”
There’s something raw in his eyes now. Fear. Guilt. Like wanting me is already a failure he can’t afford.
Then he turns and walks away.
Just like that.
I stand there for a moment, stunned, forcing air into my lungs one breath at a time. My legs feel unsteady as I make my way back home, every step heavy with what almost happened. When I finally close the door behind me, I rest my forehead against it and shut my eyes.
One slow breath. Then another. And nothing feels steady anymore.
I shouldn’t feel stupid after a kiss. Especially not a kiss like that. It was all heat and hunger. It was every ounce of temptation I’ve felt for the man at the wrong time. Who kisses someone after that kind of conversation? It came out of nowhere, but I felt him, all of him, in every possible way.
He was raw and starving, as if he’s been punishing himself every single day since he lost his wife. A devoted father. Protective of his space, his time, his son, his land.
And me.
He’s protective of me too. I’ve started to notice it in small, unspoken ways.
When I climbed into the apple tree to check how the fruit was coming along—Liam steady on a ladder nearby—I saw Cole move without thinking. Just a few steps closer. Not rushing. Not calling out. Just positioning himself where he could reach us if he needed to.
Another time, when I struggled with the riding mower, he lingered close. Pretended he wasn’t watching. But I saw it. I feltit. The way he stayed within arm’s reach, ready to pull me back if something went wrong.
He never says anything. He doesn’t have to.
He’s fiercely protective of Liam—I’ve never doubted that. And sometimes I wonder if that instinct stretches to me too, even when I’m not around. If he’s the same way when I go into town.
Then again, I can’t really picture Cole talking to anyone unless he absolutely has to.
I hate this. I hate not knowing where I stand with him. I hate not being sure. More than anything, I hate feeling unwanted this way. Like I was a mistake, like he regrets ever letting me stay on the property, let alone kissing me.
It eats at me the next day when I don’t see Cole or Liam at all. His truck is gone, so they must be in town. But when I go into town to follow up on renting a business space, I don’t see them or the truck anywhere. When I get home, I don’t even bother to see if he wants me to come over for dinner.
The door isn’t open, the curtains are closed. I make my own dinner.
All I think about is the age difference. Liam likes to talk about everything, including how old his dad is. Cole is thirty-eight and I’m okay with that. Why can’t he be? Is it because he doesn’t think he deserves to be happy? Is it because he’s afraid that he’s going to suffer in one way or another if he is?
I don’t get it. I don’t regret kissing him. I can’t. Not when I’ve never felt anything remotely close to what I felt with his mouth on mine, his hands spreading over my body, his affection pouring into me as quickly as I could breathe.
The only thing I regret is thatheregrets it.
The next two days, I basically give up having any access to Cole. He’s a ghost. He might as well live across the country or a world away. Occasionally I see Liam and he greets me as we take care of his garden. I read by the fire every night except for the five minutes I watch the fireflies.
But I don’t bother to put myself in Cole’s line of sight. I don’t bother to ask Liam about his dad when he comes over because he’s bored. I accept that Cole can’t handle whatever he’s feeling right now and as much as I want to help him sort his emotions out, it’s not my job. It can’t be my job. I know that.
Everyone has their own pace for handling emotions and figuring out exactly what they want. If I spend time with Cole, he’ll see it as a push and resent me. Plus, I’m not going to put myself into a situation where I’m not wanted, even if I’d rather help him figure things out, sort through things, and whatever else I can do.
He’s a big boy.
He can handle himself.
But god, I just hope he’ll handle me again.
