Page 21 of Echoes of Us

T he library had emptied hours ago, leaving them alone in their third-floor study room.

Outside, night pressed against leaded windows, turning them into black mirrors that reflected the warm glow of their desk lamp.

Ashley shifted in her chair, tugging self-consciously at her skirt - the only clean thing left after a week of marathon study sessions.

The fabric was shorter than she'd remembered, made worse by how it rode up every time she crossed her legs.

"Again." Cole's voice cut through her fatigue. "The equation for quantum tunneling."

She recited it perfectly, the formula flowing from her lips like poetry after seven days of his relentless drilling. His eyebrows rose slightly - the closest thing to approval she'd seen all week.

"And its practical application?"

"The sun," she said, surprising herself with the certainty in her voice. "Without quantum tunneling, nuclear fusion wouldn't be possible. The sun wouldn't shine."

Something shifted in his expression. He leaned back, abandoning his rigid posture for the first time in hours. "Interesting choice of example."

"Why?"

"Most would pick something more obvious. Scanning tunneling microscopes. Flash memory in computers." His eyes held hers. "But you went straight for the sun. The thing that makes life possible."

Heat crept up her neck. "Maybe I like looking at the bigger picture."

"Do you?" He turned slightly toward her, his knee almost brushing hers under the table. "Then tell me this - in a universe governed by uncertainty, where even particles can exist in multiple states simultaneously, how do we know anything for sure?"

The question hit closer to home than he could know. Ashley stared at her notes, seeing not equations but the tangled threads of past and future, of certainty and chaos. "Maybe we don't. Maybe certainty is just... an illusion we create to feel safe."

"Safe," he repeated, testing the word. "Is that what you want? To feel safe?"

She looked up and found him watching her with an intensity that made her breath catch. "No," she whispered. "I want to feel alive."

The air between them changed, charged with something more dangerous than physics. Cole's eyes dropped to where her skirt had ridden up, then snapped back to her face. His hands clenched on the table.

"What are you doing here, Ashley?" His voice was low, rough. "Really doing here?"

"Studying physics," she said, but even she heard the lie in her voice.

"Bullshit." He moved so suddenly she gasped - one moment in his chair, the next standing over her, bracing his hands on her armrests. "You don't need physics. You don't need a summer research position. So why are you really here?"

She should lie. Should make up something about academic curiosity or career advancement. Instead, she found herself reaching up, tracing the sharp line of his jaw with trembling fingers. "Because I can't stay away from you."

He jerked back like she'd burned him, something like fear flashing across his face before anger replaced it. "Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Don't look at me like that." He pushed away from her chair, running a hand through his hair. "Like you see something worth saving."

His words vibrated through her. Ashley stood, her legs unsteady. "Is that what you think this is? That I want to fix you?"

"Isn't it?" His laugh was sharp. "The good girl with her psychology degree, trying to understand what makes the bad twin tick? Let me save you the trouble - I'm not a thesis project."

"No," she said quietly. "You're not. You want to know what I see when I look at you, Cole?

I see someone who's so afraid of failing to meet expectations that he'd rather burn everything down first. Someone who's brilliant but terrified of that brilliance because it ties him to a future he never chose.

" Her voice cracked. "I see someone who pushes people away before they can leave him. "

He went very still. "You don't know me."

"Don't I?" She stepped closer, close enough to see the pulse jumping in his throat.

"Tell me I'm wrong. Tell me you're not running away after graduation because it's easier than admitting you love physics as much as Dale does.

Tell me you don't sabotage every real connection because it's safer than risking disappointment. "

"Stop." His voice was raw.

"Why? Because I'm right? Or because you're not used to someone seeing past your carefully constructed walls?"

"Because," he ground out, "you're talking about yourself."

The accusation knocked the breath from her lungs.

“No, I’m not,” She shook her head in denial.

"No?" His voice turned dangerously soft as he stepped closer.

"Then why are you really here, Ashley? Running straight from a breakup into physics of all things - something you clearly hate - just to stay here for summer?

" His eyes burned into hers. "What are you trying to prove?

Or better yet, who are you running from? "

Her first instinct was to laugh at how wrong he was. Running from? If only he knew she was running toward him, had been since the moment she woke up in this timeline. She didn’t give a damn about Charlie. Every decision, every move calculated to bring her closer to the man she loved.

But something in his steady gaze made the laughter die in her throat.

"You're so focused on fixing everything around you," he continued, his voice gentler now, "on rebuilding that fantasy of yours that you won't even look at what you've lost. What you're afraid to face."

His words, his truth, skewed as it was, were too close for comfort.

Her house - their house - with its half-packed boxes and dreams of a nursery. Her career, her patients, the life she'd built so carefully. All gone. She'd been so determined to save him, to save Dale, that she hadn't let herself feel the magnitude of her loss.

"Stop," she whispered, but the dam was already breaking.

"When was the last time you actually let yourself grieve for what you had?" His words were quiet but relentless. "Or are you too busy avoiding it to notice?"

The tears came without warning, hot and sudden. She pressed her hands to her face, trying to hold them back, but they slipped through her fingers like time itself had done.

"Shit." The word was soft, almost reverent. Then his arms were around her, solid and real, one hand cradling the back of her head as she cried into his chest. He smelled of coffee and chalk dust and something uniquely Cole, and it only made her cry harder.

"I've got you," he murmured into her hair, all traces of coldness gone from his voice. His thumb brushed tears from her cheek with surprising gentleness. "I’m the biggest asshole alive. I’m sorry."

"It's not your fault," she managed through broken tears, fingers clutching his shirt. "You're right. I haven't wanted to look at it. At any of it. It's easier to just..."

"Keep moving," he finished quietly. "Trust me, I know something about that."

She pulled back just enough to look at him, really look at him. In the dim light of their study room, his carefully constructed walls had cracked, showing something raw underneath. His thumb was still stroking her cheek, wiping away her tears.

"Why do you do that?" she whispered.

"Do what?"

"Pretend not to care. Push people away before they can..." She trailed off as his hand stilled on her face.

"Before they can what?" His voice had roughened. "Leave? Disappoint me? Choose someone else?" His eyes searched hers. "You tell me, Ashley. You seem to have already made up your mind about who I am."

"No," she said softly. "I don't have any answers. Just... questions. So many questions."

Something shifted in his expression. The hand on her cheek slid into her hair, and she felt his other arm tighten around her waist. "Like what?"

She should step back. Should put space between them. Instead, she found herself leaning closer, drawn by his heat and by the way his breath hitched when her fingers curled against his chest. "Like why you're still holding me."

His eyes dropped to her mouth. "I probably shouldn't."

"Why?" she asked, her hands sliding up to his shoulders, melting into him. The quiet of the empty library pressed around them, making time itself slow.

"Ashley." Her name was a warning on his lips, but his grip tightened on her waist. "You don't want this. Not really."

"Don't tell me what I want." The words came out fiercer than she intended. She pushed up on her toes, bringing their faces closer, close enough to share breath. "You don't know anything about me either, Cole Westwood."

Something dark and hungry flashed in his eyes. His hand fisted in her hair, not quite pulling, not quite gentle. "No?" His voice had dropped to a rough whisper, and his other hand slid up her spine, making her arch closer. "I know you'll regret this tomorrow."

"The only thing I'll regret," she breathed against his mouth, "is if you don't kiss me right now."

For a heartbeat, he hovered there, so close she could feel the heat of his mouth. Then he turned his head, his lips finding her neck instead. The first touch of his mouth against her pulse point made her gasp, fingers digging into his shoulders.

His grip tightened in her hair, tilting her head back further as he traced a burning path down her throat. She felt his teeth graze her collarbone, felt his free hand slide down to grip her hip, and suddenly her legs couldn't hold her.

Cole caught her, lifting her easily onto the table.

Papers scattered, and a textbook thudded to the floor, but neither noticed.

His hands slid up her thighs, pushing her skirt higher, and some distant part of her brain registered that this was why she'd avoided his touch all week - because once he started, she knew she wouldn't be able to stop.

"God, your legs," he groaned against her throat. His fingers dug into the flesh of her thighs, then slid higher, gripping her ass and pulling her to the edge of the table. The position brought her core against him, and she couldn't help but wrap her legs around his waist, trying to get closer.

"Yes," she gasped as he sucked hard at the junction of her neck and shoulder. Her hands found their way under his shirt, mapping the muscles of his back, remembering every plane and ridge she'd known so well in another life.

He felt her trembling and pulled back just enough to look at her. The raw need in his eyes stole her breath - but there was something else there, too, something uncertain. She reached for him without thinking, her heart so full of love and longing she couldn't contain it.

That's when everything shattered.

"It's not me you're seeing, is it?" His voice had gone cold. "You're thinking of him."

"What?" She blinked, dazed. "No, Cole-"

But he was already setting her away from him, his movements jerky and harsh. "I won't be his stand-in, Ashley. I won't be anyone's second choice."

"You don't understand-"

"I understand perfectly." He stepped back, and the loss of his heat made her shiver.

"The way you look at me sometimes... you're seeing what you want to see.

Who you want to see." His laugh was bitter.

"Let me guess - Dale's too much of a gentleman to make a move, so you thought you'd settle for the bad twin instead? "

"That's not-" But how could she explain? How could she tell him he was the only one she'd ever truly wanted, in this timeline or any other?

"Save it." He was already gathering his things, movements sharp with anger. "We’re done studying. Good luck tomorrow."

"Cole, please-"

He paused at the door, his back to her. For a moment, she thought he might turn around. Instead, his shoulders stiffened. "And Ashley? Next time you want to experiment with the wrong brother... don't."

The door clicked shut behind him with devastating finality.

She sat there for a long time, her skirt still rumpled, her neck bearing marks from his mouth, trying to figure out how everything had gone so terribly wrong.

The irony of it made her want to laugh or maybe cry - Cole thought she wanted his brother when, in every possible version of her life, she'd only ever wanted him.