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“I decided to outright ask her why Marcus is so intent on inserting himself back into my life,” I continued, my voice growing steadier. “She fed me some nonsense about him ‘hurting’ because his fiancée Fiona left him. And now, suddenly, he’s realized I’m the ‘perfect woman’ for him after all.”
The sarcasm in my voice was sharp enough to cut, but Cole didn’t flinch.
His fingers tensed slightly against my back, though, and I knew he was holding himself in check.
“She said—” My breath hitched, and I forced myself to go on. “She said I should stop acting like a spoiled child and give him another chance. That men like Marcus are ‘one in a million.’”
Cole’s hand stilled completely, and when he spoke, his voice was dangerously quiet. “What did you say to her?”
I managed a weak smile. “I told her, ‘Then why don’t you take him?’ And I walked away.”
Cole let out a breath that was part laugh, part growl, and pulled me closer, his arm wrapping securely around me.
I didn’t resist—I couldn’t.
The steady beat of his heart against my cheek was grounding, calming.
For a moment, I let myself lean into him, let the exhaustion of the evening crash over me.
I didn’t want to go back to Oakridge, to my apartment, to the oppressive silence and the constant replay of Marcus’ face in my mind.
I didn’t want to be alone.
“What do you need?” Cole murmured, his voice soft, almost tender.
I hesitated, afraid of sounding too needy, too vulnerable. But the words slipped out before I could stop them. “You.”
The tension in his posture eased, and he tilted his head to look at me.
“Come back to my place,” he suggested. “Spend the night there.”
I nodded, the thought of being anywhere else unbearable.
The car ride to Cole’s apartment was quiet, the kind of silence that wasn’t heavy or awkward but shared.
I leaned against him, his arm around my shoulders, and closed my eyes for a moment.
The soft hum of the car, the warmth of his body, and the quiet strength in his presence—it all made me feel safer than I had in weeks.
When we arrived, the doorman cheerfully greeted Cole and gave me a polite nod.
We stepped into the elevator, and I felt a flicker of anxiety bubble up again, thinking of Marcus, of Samantha’s smug words.
Cole must have sensed it because he reached for my hand, intertwining his fingers with mine.
“I’ve got you,” he said simply, and I nodded, swallowing back the lump in my throat.
His apartment was as sleek and sophisticated, all clean lines and warm tones.
Tonight, it felt more like a sanctuary than just a luxurious space. Cole guided me to the couch, pulling me down beside him.
“You don’t have to talk about it anymore if you don’t want to,” he said softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from my face.
I shook my head.
“I needed to tell you, to tell someone,” I said.
He nodded, his expression unreadable, but his hand found mine again, squeezing gently.