Chapter seventeen
Noelle
WhattheactualFUCKdoes that mean?
Actually, I know what it means. He made his truth very clear in the letter. Cole loves me, more than I thought anyone could be loved by someone, as more than just a friend. He sure as hell fucked me like it.
And yet, even now, with this whole speech about home, he doesn’t say it. Doesn’t even hint at it. Is that how things would be between us?
The thought is all it takes for me to deflate. There is no future for us, not like this. What I need is someone who isn’t afraid to speak his mind when it comes to me, someone who never wastes a chance to tell me how they feel.
I need transparency. Clarity. Reassurance that what we have is real.
Besides, even if he said the words things would never work out between us, not while he’s with the Vultures. I don’t fit inside his pro-hockey, Vancouver high-rise life. He has a whole different world to get back to, and one day, a wife and kid. Moving in, even temporarily, would only complicate things for him. Hard to datesomeone if your female best friend is living in your house—hell, I’m sleeping in his bed. How is he going to explain that?
Cole’s body jerks in a violent shiver, his skin ice cold to the touch. These blankets clearly aren’t working; I need to figure out something that does. Beneath me, I feel his underwear is still soaked by the snow, which can’t be good for him. I didn’t bring him dry ones. Maybe I should get them before we do something he’ll regret.
“I’ll get you some dry boxers,” I say, and before I can stop myself I kiss his cheek. We might not have forever, but we still have the weekend. And I’ll be damned if I waste it. “I’ll be right back.”
His face softens, a strange look in his eyes. “I’ll be right here, waiting for you.”
The parting words of his letter echo through my mind like a broken promise.I hope there will be a day where the stars align for us.
I know, looking into his eyes, that our stars were crossed from the beginning.
Much like we did with last night, we don’t talk about what happened by the fire.
I sent him to take a hot shower, hoping it would be more effective in warming him than the fire, and in the solitude I had a very respectable mental breakdown. Nothing can happen between us, no matter how badly both of us want it to. It would only result in heartbreak and the end of the healthiest relationship I’ve ever known. In short, it’s not worth losing him.
No. What I need now is to forget this weekend ever happened, and remind my brain that me and Cole are friends who’ve fucked once, nothing more. And the best way to do that?
Get disappointed by other men like nature intended.
I unlock my phone and navigate to the app, immediately regretting that decision when the first profile pops up. What is it with guys only having pictures of them holding guns or fish, aren’t their grammar and bro-like personalities torture enough?
Still, I continue to swipe. Somewhere on this app is my rebound, or at the very least a good distraction. Maybe I’ll even get enough unsolicited dick pics that I will forget what Cole’s looks like. In any case, it’s a step forward in getting over him. If that means getting under someone else, well, who am I to complain?
Thankfully, the women’s profiles have a lot more effort to them, and every single one of them ishot.
I’m a few matches in when a freshly showered Cole strides into the kitchen to pour himself a glass of orange juice, smelling of eucalyptus and looking good enough for me to forget why I need to get over him in the first place.
From where I sit on the island, I get the perfect view of his ass when he bends over to check something in the freezer.
“News?” he asks when he nods towards my phone.
I shake my head. “No, just playing around. Killing time.”
I don’t think he’s noticed my screen, as he takes his glass without a word and heads towards the living room. He hasn’t reached the couch when I hear his footsteps draw closer again, all the way up to my side, downright glaring at my phone.
“Is that a fucking dating app?” Cole demands. His body is rigid, tension radiating off him like he’s waiting for the puck to drop. Something pulls in my lower belly at the side—I’ve always loved his feral side.
Still, I raise a brow. If he doesn’t have the guts to tell me how he feels, he has no say in what apps I’m on. “Sure is. Got a problem with that?”
“I really fucking do,” Cole says calmly, though his voice is thick with restraint. He steps forward until our faces are mere inches apart, those bright blue eyes holding me hostage. “You need to delete that app right here, right now. I licked it so it’s mine, Noelle.Youare mine.”
A shiver runs down my spine as the image of his face between my thighs flashes before my eyes. It would be so easy to fall into it again, convince myself it was another one-time thing. But we would both know that would be a lie. That we want it to be more.
I think that piece of knowledge is the only reason I feel bold enough to speak up.
