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Chapter Twenty-Six

Michele

A fter our Mission Impossible rendezvous at the arena last night during the charity event, Cole called to let me know he was taking me out on the town tonight. He didn’t give me too many details, only told me to be ready at one p.m. and to wear something nice. I tried to get some additional information since we were trying to stay out of the public eye until we told my dad about us, but he wasn’t having it. He wanted to surprise me, and I didn’t have the heart to tell him I hate surprises.

Too bad the universe had other plans because I woke up with my skull splitting in half and the sun pouring through the windows like it had a personal vendetta. I texted Cole with trembling fingers—something like Can’t go out. Migraine. I’m sorry. Then curled up on the couch with my blanket and the hum of the white noise machine, hoping the world would stop spinning.

Stacey stayed at Parker’s place again last night, which she has been doing a lot of recently. I may need to start the search for a new roommate soon. Maybe I can ask Cole. Nope, brain, don't go there. Cole and I are doing amazing, but are we moving in together amazing? I don’t know. What I can say is that I get closer and closer to wanting to say those three little words with each passing day. I thought it would terrify me, but I’ve been surprisingly cool about it. However, I can guarantee I won't be the one saying it first.

Now, instead of hanging out with Cole on our date, I’m curled on the couch beneath my heaviest blanket, a cool washcloth folded across my forehead. Imhotep is perched like a sphinx on my chest, paws tucked, tail flicking with suspicious intensity every time I twitch. His eyes haven’t left the door in ten minutes, like he’s preparing to go full gladiator the moment someone threatens me. Which makes the soft, rhythmic knock on the door a problem.

I burrow deeper into my blankets, expecting whomever it is to go away, but I hear it again. “Don’t freak out. We come bearing snacks and soup.” The deep and too-cheerful voice of Cole filters through the door, followed by another, albeit louder one.

“And vibes.” I’m even more surprised to hear the voice of my new friend, Darius, from yesterday’s event, at my door.

“What in the world?” I whisper, wincing slightly as I slowly sit up. Imhotep stiffens, and I swear he growls. This is not a good sign.

“Be nice, please.” I give him a pat on the head before standing and shuffling to the door, peeking through the peephole with one eye, fighting against the migraine blur. Cole is holding a brown paper bag with two hands like it might explode. Darius stands behind him with a dish towel slung over his shoulder, grinning like we’re about to throw a party instead of managing my slow death-by-light-sensitivity.

“You shouldn’t have come,” I mumble, throat raw.

“You texted us you had a migraine.” Cole runs his hand down the side of my face, lightly cupping my cheek. “That wasn’t a cancellation. That was a distress call.”

“I thought we were supposed to go out tonight,” I whisper.

“Change of plans,” he says, stepping inside as I open the door wider. “Now we’re here to annoy you into recovery.”

As soon as he crosses the threshold, Imhotep launches off the couch like a missile and plants himself between us. Tail raised. Back arched. Ears flat. A low, warbling growl builds in his throat.

Cole freezes, already prepared with Imhotep’s favorite treats. “I come in peace, you hairless demon.”

“If you were nicer to him…” My voice trails off, remembering the first time Cole and my little prince met. It didn’t go well at all. I ended up having to lock him in the spare bedroom with all his accoutrements so Cole and I could snuggle. It has also made other extracurricular activities very hard.

The cat is not impressed with his offering, turning up his nose at Cole. Meanwhile, Darius steps inside behind him and squats to scratch behind Imhotep’s ears. The traitor purrs loudly, rubbing his entire head against Darius’s leg like they’re long-lost brothers.

Cole's mouth drops open in surprise. “Are you serious?”

“He knows a kind soul when he sees one,” Darius says smugly.

Cole grumbles something under his breath as he sets the bag on the kitchen counter. “I got you ginger tea. Sea salt crackers. That migraine balm you like. And socks.”

“I picked those out.” Darius smiles as he picks up the cat, snuggling him into his cheek before placing him gently on the floor. The cat takes one look at Cole before swiping at his ankles. Thank goodness Stacey isn’t here because she’d be just as pissed as Cole right now at how easily the cat has taken to Darius.

“You did not. They’re orange with little black cats on them,” Cole snipes back, causing me to giggle softly.

“Exactly. Thought it might keep the little demon over there from attacking us.”

“Imhotep likes you. He’s guarding me,” I say, trying not to laugh and wince at the same time. “He does this. You’re lucky he hasn’t clawed you yet.”

“He has clawed me,” Cole whines, his eyes narrowing at the cat as he strolls by, taking another swipe at his ankles. “See? Hates me.”

Cole sets the basket down on the table like it’s an altar and starts unpacking it with quiet care—pain reliever, eucalyptus balm, one of those cooling gel eye masks. A literal get-well survival kit.

“Dinner’s handled,” he says. “We’re doing grilled cheese and soup. Darius is on sandwich duty. He claims he’s a master.”

“I am a master. Don’t let the man slander me,” Darius calls. “Do you want it fancy or classic? I can add basil and make it gourmet.”

“Bread. Cheese. Done,” I rasp.

“Say less.”

I ease myself back onto the couch, pressing the cool washcloth to my temple again. Imhotep hops up beside me and flops across my legs like a smug king, flicking his tail in Cole’s direction with a calculated disrespect.

Cole edges around him like he’s navigating a minefield and crouches beside the couch. “How’s your head?”

“Still attached, unfortunately.”

Darius’s voice floats from the kitchen. “She’s still got jokes. She’ll live.”

Cole’s smile is soft, his eyes scanning my face like he’s memorizing every detail. Slowly, carefully, he lifts the gel eye mask from the basket and holds it out. I take it with trembling fingers.

“You didn’t have to do all this.”

“I wanted to.” He brushes his lips gently against my forehead as Darius pretends not to notice us from the kitchen, but I see the way he smiles when Cole leans in and presses a kiss to my temple.

I want to lean into him, but Imhotep shifts, letting out a low, threatening mrrrroww , and I still value Cole’s limbs.

“You take care of everyone else,” Cole says quietly. “Let us take care of you for once.”

That shouldn’t make my throat burn. But it does. I can’t remember the last time someone took care of me. To make sure that I had everything I needed. If I weren’t already half in love with Cole already, I’d be in fear for my heart. But maybe this is his way of showing me, without words, that he feels the same.

We end up curled on the couch, with Darius on one end and Cole, very carefully, on the other. Imhotep sits between us like a furry chaperone, occasionally batting at Cole’s arm if he dares move too close. They stay for hours—long after the soup is gone and I’ve changed into the new socks, which are absurdly cozy. Cole hands me my tea every time I shift. Darius tells embarrassing stories, making me laugh so hard I almost forget the pain pulsing behind my eyes.

At some point, I doze off. When I wake, the apartment is hushed. The lights are low, casting a warm amber glow across the room. A blanket—definitely not mine—has been tugged over my shoulders. Imhotep, the ever-judgmental cat, is curled into a tight ball atop Cole’s socked foot like a furry little sentinel.

“Where’s Darius?” My voice is a rasp, and when I try to sit up, a dull throb pulses behind my eyes. Cole gently pushes me back down with a shake of his head.

“In a twist even soap operas would envy, he lives in the same building as you. With my brother, Cooper, and his aunt.”

“He what ?” I screech, instantly regretting it as pain slashes through my skull. I hiss and squeeze my eyes shut.

“I probably should’ve explained that one better,” he says, wincing with me.

“You think?” I mutter.

“I’ll tell you everything,” he says, lips twitching into a crooked smile. “But only if you lie here and relax while I do. It’s a doozy.”

“Deal.” I sigh and sink back down, adjusting until I’m snug against his side. He lifts the blanket again, draping it higher over my shoulder, his fingers grazing the soft curve of my arm.

His eyes find mine—steady, searching. There’s an unspoken question there. We haven’t touched much—not with the migraine or my feline bodyguard—but now his hand inches toward mine, and I don’t pull away. His thumb brushes the back of my hand—warm, calloused, steady. It sends a quiet flutter through my chest.

“Are you feeling any better?” he asked softly.

“A little.” I turn my hand in his, lacing our fingers together. “You were really sweet today. Both of you.”

“Yeah, well…” He flashes one of his crooked smiles. “Darius is the brains of the operation. I’m just the muscle.”

“You’re more than that.” I squeeze his hand gently. “A lot more.”

The smile fades from his face, replaced by something raw and real. Not his usual charm, not that intense possessiveness he sometimes wears like armor—this is something else.

“You don’t have to tell me. I know I can be nosy.”

“No. That’s not it.” He glances down at our joined hands, then back up. “I have to explain everything from the beginning for it to make sense.”

He shifts slightly, our legs brushing under the blanket, and when he speaks again, it’s like peeling back an old scar. “My dad died when I was ten. Heart attack. Fell off a mountain.”

“Cole.” The sob comes fast, hot, and unwelcome. I try to swallow it down, but it claws its way out anyway. His fingers tighten around mine like he’s anchoring himself. I don’t let go. I reach up with my free hand and wrap it around his wrist, grounding us both.

“It was Cooper’s birthday. He wanted to camp. Dragged the whole family up there, even though he knew Dad wasn’t feeling right. Didn’t say a damn thing.”

The pain in his voice makes my chest ache. I don’t speak. I just let him talk.

“Dad was the only person who saw me. He never let my brothers overshadow me, allowing me to be my own person. Someone other than Beau and Cooper Hendrix’s 'little brother.’”

He lets out a bitter laugh, eyes distant. “I’ve never been able to forgive my brother for what happened, and, honestly, I don’t know if I ever will.”

I reach up, cupping the side of his face and guiding his eyes back to mine. “I see you, Cole.”

He blinks, releasing a shuddering breath as he leans into my hand like he’s been starving for that small comfort.

“I’ve spent most of my career trying to prove I’m not just Cooper’s shadow. Every hit. Every goal. Every fight. Just me screaming, ‘I matter, too.’ Now we’re on the same damn team, and the media’s obsessed with this Brothers United crap. But nothing’s changed. I’m still the echo.”

A beat of silence. Then, softer, “I rarely talk about my relationship with my brothers or my feelings at all, but…” He hesitates. “Darius… he’s Cooper’s fiancée’s nephew.”

“You didn’t know?”

“Nope. Found out when I went to pick him up for our ‘date.’ The little extortionist told me he’d blow our cover if I didn’t agree to be his big brother.”

I let out a watery laugh. “Why not Cooper or Beau?”

“He said he needed someone who wouldn’t rat him out. And since I barely talk to them, I was perfect.”

“I don’t think that’s why he picked you,” I murmur, tracing my thumb over the back of his hand. “At the charity event, he couldn’t stop talking about you. That kid thinks you hung the moon.”

He looks at me, eyes unreadable. “Is he the only one?”

I hesitate, but not because I’m unsure. My body’s already leaning toward him. My heart’s already answered.

“No,” I whisper, voice thick with emotion. “He’s not.”

His hand tightens around mine. That unreadable look softens—melts—into something fierce and tender all at once. A slow smile curves his lips, but there’s a gravity in his gaze that stills everything in me.

“I love you,” I say, chest rising with the weight of it. “Cole, I love you.”

His breath leaves him in a ragged exhale, like he’s been holding it in for years. “God,” he murmurs. “I love you, too.”

He cups the side of my face and kisses me like he means it—like the words weren’t enough. There’s nothing tentative about it now. His mouth moves over mine, hungry, reverent. Like he’s trying to memorize the shape of this moment with every brush of his lips.

I sigh, arching into him as he leans over me, his hands gliding down the curve of my waist, dragging the blanket with them. My skin prickles under his touch, hypersensitive and aching. His body is warm and solid above mine, the weight of him grounding me and setting me on fire all at once.

His mouth moves to my neck, slow and deliberate, each kiss a promise. I thread my fingers into his hair, tugging gently as his hand slips beneath the hem of my shirt, fingers splaying across my stomach before sliding higher. My breath hitches, his name tumbling from my lips in a gasp.

“Tell me again. Tell me you love me,” he murmurs, his voice gravel and velvet, lips grazing the shell of my ear.

I meet his eyes, bold and bare. “I love you.”

His mouth crashes into mine again, and this time, there’s no pause, no hesitation. Just heat. Need. Us.

Clothes are forgotten. Skin meets skin. The couch shifts beneath us, but neither of us cares. It’s slow at first—savoring. Exploring. Worshipping. The urgency is like we’ve been waiting a lifetime to get here.

His name breaks on my lips again as he pulls me closer, anchoring me to him like he never wants to let go.

And I hope he never does.