Page 16 of Echoes of Us

She'd shed her sweater hours ago, the late spring warmth making even the library's usually cool air feel heavy. Her hair was piled messily on top of her head, held in place by a pencil, and she'd been chewing on her bottom lip so long it was starting to feel raw.

"So this is where you've been hiding."

Ashley's heart stopped. She knew that voice - would know it anywhere - but it wasn't sharp or mocking tonight. It held something else, something that reminded her achingly of her Cole.

He stood at the edge of her light, hands in his pockets, looking unfairly good for someone who should be stressed about finals. His hair was slightly disheveled like he'd been running his fingers through it, and his gray eyes studied her with an intensity that made her skin tingle.

"Not hiding," she managed, proud of how steady her voice sounded. "Just studying."

"Dale mentioned you've been asking about physics.

" He moved closer, and Ashley's breath hitched as he leaned over her shoulder to pick up a flash card.

The movement was deliberate, almost predatory, his chest barely brushing her back.

Even in the library's dim light, she could see the way his forearms flexed as he turned the card between his fingers, his signet ring catching the lamplight.

This close, he smelled like expensive cologne and something darker that made her head spin.

"Though this looks more like psychology. "

"Social psych final tomorrow." She tried to focus on her notes instead of the heat radiating from his body, the way his presence seemed to steal all the oxygen from the air. "Physics isn't until Friday."

"Ah." He set the card down with deliberate slowness, then circled the table like a cat stalking prey.

When he pulled out the chair across from her, the movement was pure liquid grace.

He sprawled into it with the kind of effortless confidence that came from knowing exactly how good he looked, one arm draped over the back of the chair, his Yale crew team t-shirt pulling just right across his chest. "Dale also mentioned you might need some help with that. "

Ashley's breath caught. The Cole from the party had been all sharp edges and cruel smiles, wielding his beauty like a blade. But this... this was something else entirely. The way he watched her now was different - still intense, still dangerous, but tinged with genuine curiosity. "Did he?”

"Mhm." Cole leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. In the lamp's warm glow, his usual mask seemed to slip just slightly. "Though I have to admit, I'm curious why someone who clearly hates physics would volunteer for a summer of it."

She should be careful. Should keep her distance.

Every alarm bell in her head was ringing - this was the same man who'd had a girl on her knees just days ago, who treated women like disposable pleasures.

Instead, she found herself… drawn to him.

"Maybe I don't hate it. Maybe I just haven't had the right. .. perspective."

His eyes darkened at her words that predatory focus returning. "I could help with that."

Ashley's brows furrowed. "What?”

"Tutor you," he said, and though his smile wasn't quite predatory, it held enough of an edge to keep her wary. "For your final."

She studied him carefully. Everything about this Cole Westwood screamed danger - from the lazy confidence in his posture to the way his fingers tapped an absent rhythm on the table like he was already planning his next move.

She should say no. Should make an excuse. Should do anything except- "Okay."

His eyebrows rose slightly, genuine surprise breaking through his calculated demeanor.

Like maybe he hadn't expected her to agree.

Like maybe he hadn't expected himself to offer.

"Okay," he echoed, that mask of indifference sliding back into place.

Then added, with a dangerous curve to his lips, "But not tonight.

You look like you're about to fall face-first into your notes. "

"Wouldn't want to ruin your reputation by being seen with the library girl," she said before she could stop herself.

Something sharp and interesting flashed in his eyes. Instead of the cruel comeback she expected, he let out a low chuckle - not quite genuine, but not entirely fake either. The sound made her heart stutter traitorously in her chest.

"Friday," he said, unfolding himself from the chair with that liquid grace. "After your social psych final. We can start with the basics."

"I know the basics," she protested automatically, even as her mind screamed at her to stop antagonizing him.

His smile turned, knowing but not cruel. Almost... playful. "We'll see." He took a step back, then paused. "Two days, Ashley."

The way he said her name - like he was testing how it felt on his tongue - made her chest ache. She watched him disappear into the shadows, her heart thundering against her ribs.

Two days. She stared at the space he'd vacated, trying to reconcile this version of Cole with the one from the party. That Cole had practically paraded his conquests in front of her. This one offered physics tutoring at midnight in a deserted library.

The whiplash of it all made her want to laugh. Or cry. Or maybe both. Was this how it started? A quiet moment in a library, of all places? Or was this just another one of his games - one she was walking into with her eyes wide open because she couldn't help herself?

She gathered her notes, movements sharp with frustration. The worst part wasn't that she'd agreed to let him tutor her. The worst part was that some twisted piece of her wanted to see every version of him - even the ones that might break her heart.

God help her.

* * *

Ashley's hand trembled slightly as she turned her key in the lock. The walk back from the library felt surreal, like she was floating between two versions of her life - the one she'd lost and this new, precarious reality she was building.

Soft lamplight spilled from beneath the door. Of course, Sarah would still be awake.

Her friend sat cross-legged on her bed, surrounded by physics notes, her strawberry-blonde hair falling out of its messy bun. She looked up as Ashley entered, then did a double-take. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Something like that," Ashley murmured, dropping her bag by her desk. The memory of Cole's smile - not quite kind, but not cruel either - flickered through her mind.

"Spill." Sarah pushed her notes aside. "You've got that look."

"What look?"

"The 'Cole Westwood just did something that's going to ruin my life' look."

Ashley sank onto her bed, pulling her knees to her chest. "He offered to tutor me in physics."

Sarah's pencil clattered to the floor. "He what?"

"For the final. He..." Ashley swallowed hard. "He found me in the library. Dale mentioned I might need help."

"Ashley." Sarah's voice was gentle but firm. "This is Cole Westwood we're talking about. The guy who..." she trailed off, but they both knew what she meant. The party was still too fresh and the image of him with that brunette was too raw.

"I know who he is." Ashley's voice came out sharper than intended.

But did she? The Cole who'd cockily offered to help her tonight wasn't the same man who'd kiss her awake on Sunday mornings, the one who'd come home early just to console her after a failed counseling session and wasn't the one who bent for her on one knee, promising to take care of her for the rest of their lives.

The ache in her chest deepened as another memory surfaced - one that had defined them. The moment she'd first realized she loved him, she really loved him. Not the careful, cautious love she'd known before, but something that cracked her chest wide open and rebuilt her from the inside out.

The Dallas rain drummed against her hotel window, a steady rhythm that should have been soothing. Instead, Ashley sat cross-legged on the massive hotel bed, her presentation notes forgotten as she stared at the card that had just fallen from her folder.

Cole's precise handwriting covered one side - a physics equation she didn't understand. She almost set it aside, assuming he'd accidentally mixed his notes with hers, but something made her look it over.

The first side bore Schrodinger's time-independent equation - elegant, complex, beautiful in its certainty. When she turned it over, her breath caught.

"I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride," she read aloud, her fingers tracing Neruda's words. The rest of the poem blurred through her tears, but this line—this one line—now felt like it was written just for them.

She found another card. This one had Einstein's field equations on one side. The other held lines that made her heart stop. Dickinson's words pierced through her:

"If I could see you in a year,

I'd wind the months in balls…”

Her eyes skipped down the page, each word imprinting on her soul:

"But, now, uncertain of the length

Of this, that is between,

It goads me, like the Goblin Bee…

That will not state--- its sting."

With trembling fingers, she discovered one final card, a simple string theory equation, followed by words in his own voice: "Come back to me. The universe may be infinite, but my world makes sense only when you're in it."

Her hands shook as she gathered the cards, holding them close to her chest. She let the rain wash over her, let herself sink into the certainty of love that had settled deep within her bones.

Her throat tightened. God, she missed him. Not this sharp-edged boy with a dangerous smile, but her husband. The man who loved her so completely that it took her breath away.

"Hey." Sarah's voice was soft. She'd moved to sit beside Ashley, their shoulders touching. "Talk to me."

Ashley pressed her palms against her eyes, fighting back tears. "He's different when we're alone," she said finally. It wasn't a lie, not really. "There's something... I don't know. Something real."

Sarah was quiet for a long moment. "Just... be careful, okay? Cole Westwood doesn't do real. He does games. And you're too good to be anyone's game."

If only she knew. Ashley nodded, not trusting her voice.

Later, after Sarah had fallen asleep, Ashley lay awake, staring at the ceiling.

The Dallas memory wouldn't leave her alone.

She rolled onto her side, tears sliding silently into her pillow.

Somewhere between now and her future, this reckless, damaged boy would become the man who quoted poetry for her.

Who made her favorite breakfast and remembered her taste in coffee.

But right now, he was none of those things. Right now, he was all sharp edges and calculated moves, more likely to cut her than catch her.

And still, she couldn't stay away. Because somewhere in those dangerous gray eyes, she'd seen a flicker of the man she loved. The man who, in another lifetime, would build his whole world around loving her right.