Page 35 of Echoes of Us

I t happened gradually.

Marie started missing gatherings - political science study groups, family commitments, and papers to write. Each time, Cole would still come, and Ashley tried not to notice how his eyes would find her across rooms, how he'd gravitate toward whatever conversation she was in.

The lab had become their unofficial territory.

Tonight, Ashley sat perched on a counter, legs dangling, watching Cole adjust some equipment.

The sleeves of his white shirt were rolled to his elbows, revealing forearms corded with subtle muscle.

A lock of dark hair fell across his forehead as he bent over his work, and her fingers itched with the memory of brushing it back.

"You should consider it," he said, not looking up from the delicate calibration he was performing. His hands moved with precise grace over the equipment, each motion controlled and sure. "A physics masters. You have the mind for it."

Ashley laughed, the sound echoing in the empty lab. She shifted on the counter, and his eyes flickered briefly to her crossed legs before returning to his work. "I really don't."

"You do." He glanced up then, his gray eyes intense in the lab's fluorescent lighting.

He took a step closer, ostensibly to reach for a tool near her, but the movement brought him into her space.

The familiar scent of his cologne wrapped around her, making her head spin slightly.

"The way you think about problems, how you see patterns.

.. it's not that different from what we do here. "

"Maybe," she managed, watching a muscle tick in his jaw as he concentrated.

This close, she could see the faint stubble darkening his jawline, the tiny scar above his eyebrow that she used to kiss.

"But I love what I do. Working with patients, helping them understand their own patterns.

.." She trailed off, distracted by his proximity.

"That must take a certain kind of patience," Cole said quietly, his voice dropping lower.

Her heart stopped. In another life, on their first date, he'd said those exact words.

"It does," she agreed softly. "I love that by helping one person, you're really helping everyone in their life.

It ripples outward." She caught herself gesturing with her hands the way she always did when talking about her work.

"When someone starts to heal, it affects their relationships, their decisions, their whole world. "

Something shifted in Cole's expression as he watched her talk, his eyes softening. "You light up when you discuss this."

"I do?"

"Yeah." He moved closer, reaching past her for a tool, though there was plenty of room to go around her. "It's... interesting."

"Interesting?" She raised an eyebrow, trying to ignore how his sleeve brushed against her arm.

"The way you see people." His voice had that thoughtful quality she remembered, the one that meant he was really considering something. "Like puzzles."

"Not puzzles," she corrected. "Stories. Everyone's carrying their own story, trying to make sense of it."

"And what's your story?" The question came out barely above a whisper, his eyes fixed on hers.

The air between them felt electric, charged with something that had nothing to do with the lab's equipment. Ashley's breath caught as he shifted slightly, bringing them even closer.

"Cole-" she started, but footsteps in the hallway made them both freeze.

He stepped back quickly, turning to his equipment with studied focus. Ashley's heart hammered against her ribs as Dale appeared in the doorway, his expression carefully neutral as he took in the scene.

"Ready to head out?" Dale asked Cole. "Marie's waiting at the coffee shop."

"Yeah," Cole said, but his voice sounded strained. "Just finishing up here."

Ashley slid off the counter, gathering her things with hands that weren't quite steady. As she left, she could feel Cole's eyes on her back, and something told her he wasn't really seeing the equipment anymore.

Different timeline, she reminded herself again. But this time, the words felt hollow.

The moments kept collecting, though Ashley refused to acknowledge them for what they were.

For example, when he found her in the library late one night, surrounded by psychology texts and empty coffee cups, without a word, he'd cleared a space across from her and pulled out his own work.

Hours passed in comfortable silence, broken only by the soft whisper of turning pages.

If she caught herself watching his hands as he took notes, the way his fingers curved around his pen, well - she was just tired.

Everything looked interesting after midnight.

Or the time she caught him teaching first-years about wave functions.

She'd meant to just drop off some papers for Dale but found herself lingering in the doorway, watching Cole's hands move through the air as he explained complex theories with surprising patience.

He'd looked up, caught her eye mid-explanation, and stumbled over his words.

She told herself it was just professional admiration - he'd make a good professor someday.

These little moments meant nothing. Cole had Marie.

Ashley had her resolution to keep things professional.

And if sometimes she found herself remembering how his cologne smelled when he reached past her for equipment or how his voice changed when it was just the two of them talking late in the lab - well, that was just muscle memory. Her body remembered another Cole.

Tonight was no different. They'd ended up alone in the lab again, something that seemed to happen more often lately.

Ashley sat cross-legged on her usual counter, reading through practice patient files for one of her courses while Cole worked on his research.

The quiet felt comfortable, lived-in, until she heard him curse softly.

"Problem?" she asked, looking up to find him shaking his right hand.

"Just a burn from the equipment. It's fine."

She moved to help without thinking - a natural response, she told herself. Nothing to do with how his hands had been distracting her all evening.

"Let me see."

"It's nothing-" he started, but she'd already taken his hand in hers.

The touch was clinical and professional - she'd treated minor burns before. If her heart beat faster when her fingers wrapped around his wrist, that was just... concern. Professional concern.

"You should run this under cold water," she said, her voice steady despite the weird flutter in her stomach.

"Ashley." The way he said her name made her look up. He was closer than she'd realized, his eyes dark in the lab's fluorescent lighting.

"Yes?"

His free hand moved toward her face, hesitating just inches from her cheek. She could feel the heat of it, could see something unfamiliar in his expression.

Then his phone buzzed. The sound snapped Ashley back to reality. She dropped his hand like it burned, stepping back quickly. What was she doing?

As she watched him answer his phone, turning away to speak softly to his girlfriend, Ashley pushed down whatever that moment had been. She was just projecting - seeing her Cole in his gestures, hearing her husband in his voice. That's all this was.

That's all it could be.

* * *

Candlelight caught in wine glasses, turning the physics department's end-of-semester dinner into something almost magical. Ashley leaned against a window, the glass cool against her bare shoulder, watching the scene unfold like a photograph she'd seen in another life.

The sound of laughter drew her attention. Cole held court with a cluster of professors, his tie slightly loosened, cheeks flushed with wine. Without Marie here tonight, he seemed somehow more himself - or at least what she'd thought was himself.

He gestured as he spoke about quantum mechanics, and Ashley's wine glass froze halfway to her lips. The way his wrist turned, how his fingers traced invisible equations... she'd seen that gesture before, just moments ago, from across the room, from Dale.

Margaret Westwood moved between her sons like a ghost in cream silk, touching Cole's arm in that particular way she had. The same touch Ashley had watched her give Dale earlier like she was steadying herself against something only she could see.

Cole smiled in response - that gentle, measured smile that had always made Ashley's heartache.

Dale's smile.

The wine turned to ash in her mouth as memories crashed through her: Cole sprawled in a library chair those first weeks, bursting with unhinged energy and vigor.

That Cole would have shot back answers with quicksilver wit would have made the professors either love him or hate him but never ignore him.

That Cole burned too bright to be ignored.

This Cole paused before speaking, considered his words with careful precision. Like his brother.

Exactly like his brother.

Her hands trembled as she set down her glass, eyes tracking between the twins. How had she never noticed? The way they both touched their signet rings when thinking. How their laughs had started to mirror each other. Even the way they shifted their weight when listening - a perfect echo.

"Remarkable, isn't he?" Margaret materialized beside her, candlelight catching in her perfectly coiffed hair. Her wine glass trembled slightly, betraying the steadiness of her voice. "How he's grown."

Something hungry lived in Margaret's tone, something that made Ashley's skin crawl. When Cole glanced their way, Margaret's chin lifted in approval. Like a conductor guiding an orchestra.

Like a mother molding a son into the shape of another.

Cole's spine straightened automatically, his posture shifting to match his brother's across the room. Perfect mirror images, reflecting something that hadn't happened yet.

"Just like his brother," Margaret whispered, the words slipping out like a prayer, like a confession. She pressed her lips together immediately, but it was too late.