Cole.
Oh my God. Cole.
It hits me like a brick, knocking the air from my lungs. I can’t comprehend what just happened. What any of this means. What he saw.
His dad just died. Right in front of him.God.
I look down at my screen. Four minutes. “Come on, come on.” I dart another glance down the street, and a sob rips out of me.
“Shit.”
Nate… Matt…
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I run a hand through my hair, then wipe at the tears spilling down my cheeks.
Cole.
I just talked to him last week. Everything was fine.
Normal.
And now?—
“Oh my God,” I cry.
He just watched his dad die.
The sobs come hard and fast, sharp and broken, my chest caving with each one.
Nate was such a good guy. Truly one of the good ones.
The ache rises, tightening my throat.
One minute.
My fingers drum against my phone, and by the time the Uber pulls up, I’m a wreck—tangled hair, tear-stained face, and the tank top I was sleeping in is doing nothing to hide my breasts. They’re practically hanging out.
But I don’t care. It doesn’t matter.
I tumble into the backseat, let my head fall back, and close my eyes.Just breathe. Get your shit together so you can be there for Matt.
Matt.
Nate.
Cole.
I think about the first time Matt met Cole. Nate had asked him to be his godfather, but Matt still hadn’t given him an answer. We were on a plane to Chicago for the baptism, and he only had a few days left to decide. He was twenty-three, I was twenty-two, both fresh out of college and trying to figure our shit out. He had an apartment in Chelsea; I was living with a roommate close by.
I settled into the luxury seat next to Matt on his dad’s plane. He had a bottle of his favorite whiskey in hand, smirking because he knew it was my “slutty drink”—the one that loosens me up, makes me feel all kindsof sexy. I shook my head, fully aware of what he was hoping for on the flight.
“Have you decided what you’re going to do yet?” I asked as he poured me a double shot, then filled his own glass halfway.
“No. I don’t know anything about kids. What am I gonna do, take him to a strip club and teach him to smoke a joint?” he scoffed, shaking his head. “I’m not good for this kid. My parents fucked me up. Why would he even ask me this?”
I laced my fingers through his while he took his first sip, letting the whiskey sit in his mouth for a few seconds before swallowing. He licked his lips, then exhaled. “Mmm. That’s good.”
