Her mouth curls into a subtle smile. “If not, he chose wisely. He’s smart. He knows a good quarterback and a good name when she sees one.”
The kid has great instincts.
Hope wraps her hands around her mug. “It was a rough night. He didn’t sleep much, but when he did, it was squished into the corner on the floor.”
She carries her tea and follows me from the kitchen to the back of the house. “It was nice of him to come today. Matt asked about him.” She pauses. “He’s really good with him.”
He’s good with me.
The thought startles me, and it’s suddenly a bit harder to breathe.
I inhale and let it out, stopping near the back door. “We told him we would, but we need to be careful. I don’t want him to get attached.”
There’s something about those words that pinches me right in the center of the chest. Hard.
Hope nods. “He’ll have to be placed in a home, but I’m hoping that if we give him a little time here, it’ll make it easier. I hate to throw him into another strange environment just yet.”
My body tenses at the thought of him going somewhere with people he doesn’t know or trust. He hasn’t even had time to learn to trust us.
Hope pulls the door open, and we step out where Cole and Matt sit at a table, watching videos on his phone again.
Cole’s eyes flick to mine, but his gaze falls away just as fast.
There are so many unspoken questions I’m not prepared to answer.
That brilliant smile appears, and my stomach sucks itself in tight.
“See right there.” Cole points to his phone. “They weren’t even expecting it. Total fake out. It’s called a sneak.”
“You doing all right?” Hope asks as if she can sense my turmoil.
I stare at Cole and his blue eyes that hold nothing but gentleness as he explains the next play to Matt.
I’m absolutely not ok.
“Yeah.” I lie.
Patience. Let myself explore.
It sounds awful, like complete torture.
Cole peeks at me again. He blinks once. Twice. His smile falters a little, and I wonder what he’s thinking.
I wonder if it’s possible he feels any of these strange things I do.
Chapter 28
COLE
I lean over the counter, my elbows pressing into the hard, cold surface. My thumb moves over the screen, searching for anything that resembles the burn marks.
I grip my phone tighter as my stomach rolls with the possibilities.
Maybe it’s not what I think it is. Maybe it’s just a symbol or one of those things you do that signifies something, like a tattoo.
“You ready to go?”
I click my phone off and shove it in my pocket. “Yeah.”
