Page 39 of Echoes of Us

A shley's hands were covered in flour, the fine powder turning her skin ghostly pale as she worked the pie dough.

Her mother hummed softly by the sink, the familiar tune mixing with winter afternoon light that spilled through kitchen windows.

They'd been baking for hours - cookies, bread, now pie - as if enough butter and sugar could somehow make everything normal again.

"You're overworking it," her mother said gently, watching Ashley's too-vigorous kneading.

The dough was probably ruined, tough from her restless fingers, but neither of them mentioned it.

Just like neither of them mentioned the dark circles under Ashley's eyes, or how her phone stayed face-down on the counter, collecting notifications she couldn't bear to read.

Six days. Six days of hiding in her childhood home, pretending the world outside didn't exist. Pretending she couldn't still feel Cole's hands on her skin, his mouth against hers, the way he'd-

The dough tore under her fingers.

"Here." Her mother's hands covered hers, steady and warm. "Let me show you again."

Ashley nodded, letting her mother guide her movements into something gentler. The kitchen smelled of cinnamon and home, so different from the sterile chemistry of the physics lab. So different from that night when-

A knock at the door made her jump, flour clouding around her like startled ghosts.

"Probably Sarah," she said quickly, wiping her hands on her old Yale sweatshirt. "She threatened to come drag me back to campus."

But even as the words left her mouth, something shifted in the air. The afternoon light seemed to hold its breath. Ashley's heart started racing before she even reached the door like some part of her already knew.

When she opened it, Cole Westwood stood on her parents' porch, snowflakes caught in his dark hair.

Her breath caught at the sight of him - hands shoved deep in his coat pockets, nose red from the cold, looking somehow both completely out of place and exactly where he belonged.

The porch light hadn't come on yet in the early winter dusk, but she didn't need it to see how his eyes burned into hers, how his jaw clenched against words he was barely holding back.

"You ran away again," he said simply.

The accusation hit harder than she expected.

Behind her, the kitchen still hummed with warmth and safety - her mother's quiet movements, the lingering scent of cinnamon, the half-finished pie waiting on the counter.

But here, with Cole's eyes stripping away her careful pretense at normalcy, reality crashed back like a wave.

She stepped outside, pulling the door closed behind her. The December air bit through her thin sweatshirt, flour dust swirling off the fabric like snow. She crossed her arms, suddenly aware of how she must look - messy hair pulled back, old sweats, traces of baking still on her hands.

Cole's jaw clenched at her shiver. Without a word, he shrugged out of his coat and draped it over her shoulders.

His warmth lingered in the fabric, wrapped around her like an embrace.

His scent - God, his scent - made her head spin with memories of his hands on her skin, his mouth against her throat, the way he'd-

"Don't go to Harvard." His voice was rough, urgent. "Dale told me. Don't..."

"Cole-"

"I was an idiot," he cut her off, running a hand through his snow-damp hair. "Dating Marie, pushing you away - I did everything wrong. I was so caught up in proving I didn't need anyone that I forgot how to just..." He gestured helplessly between them. "Be."

Tears pricked at Ashley's eyes. "Marie," she whispered. "How could I do that to her?"

"Marie and I aren't together." His words came quickly, like he needed her to understand. "Haven't been for a while now."

Something twisted in her chest. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"You didn't ask."

She made a sound between a laugh and a sob. "You can do better than that."

Cole stepped closer, close enough that snowflakes fell between them like stars.

"Because you seemed happy," he said softly.

"Content. When I saw you with the research group, with Dale.

.." His voice caught. "I convinced myself you wanted my brother.

That maybe you deserved someone steadier.

Someone who didn't burn through everything he touched. "

"Stop." She pressed her hand against his chest, feeling his heart race under her palm. The contrast between his warm skin and the cold air made her fingers tingle. Or maybe that was just him - always him, making her feel too much. "You don't get to decide what's better for me."

"I know." He caught her hand, holding it against him. "I know that now. But Ashley..." His other hand came up to brush a tear from her cheek. The gesture was so achingly gentle that it made fresh tears fall. "I can't watch you leave again. Not like this."

"Why did you date her?" The question slipped out before she could stop it. She needed to know, needed to understand how they'd ended up here.

His thumb traced her cheekbone, catching another tear.

"I dated Marie because she was safe," he admitted, the words coming rough like he had to force them out.

"Because she wanted the version of me everyone else wanted.

The controlled one. The one who could...

" He swallowed hard. "The one who could be more like Dale. "

Ashley's heart cracked. Of course. She'd seen it at the department dinner - how hard he tried to mirror his brother's careful grace. The beginning of a transformation she couldn't bear to watch complete. "Cole-"

"But you." His forehead dropped to rest against hers, snowflakes melting between them. "You see right through me. Always have. It terrifies me, Ashley. The way you look at me sometimes, like you know exactly who I am. Who I could become."

If he only knew. She closed her eyes against fresh tears, remembering the Cole from her future - the one who'd learned to wear his brother's mannerisms like a second skin. "I need you to stay yourself," she whispered. "Promise me that. No matter what happens, stay who you are."

When she opened her eyes, his expression was raw, confused. "What are you talking about?"

"Nothing. Everything." Her hands slid up to frame his face, memorizing the sharp line of his jaw, the way his pulse jumped under her touch.

She could feel him trembling, though, from cold or emotion, she couldn't tell.

"I just need you to know that I love you exactly as you are.

Not who anyone wants you to be. Not who anyone needs you to become. Just you."

Something broke in his expression. His hands tangled in her hair as he kissed her, desperate and deep. She tasted snowflakes and tears and truth on his lips. When they finally broke apart, they were both breathing hard.

"Stay," he breathed against her mouth. "We'll figure it out. The research position at Harvard - we'll find a way. Just... stay."

Ashley's heart squeezed painfully. She wanted to. Oh, how she wanted to. But Dale's death date loomed in her mind, a clock ticking down to inevitable tragedy. How could she stay and watch it happen? Watch Cole slowly become someone else in the aftermath? Could she be the one to prevent it?

The hubris of her actions so far had not been lost on her, and she knew nothing anymore.

"I can't." The words felt like glass in her throat. "What happened in the lab-"

"Was real." His grip tightened in her hair. "Don't you dare try to dismiss it. You felt it, too. I know you did."

Fresh tears spilled down Ashley's cheeks. "I'm so sorry. I never meant-"

"Stop apologizing." He kissed her again, softer this time like he was trying to erase the guilt from her lips. "We all made mistakes. But Ashley..." He pulled back just enough to meet her eyes. "Running away won't fix them."

She stared up at him, at the snowflakes caught in his eyelashes, at the raw honesty in his expression. This was her Cole - burning bright and real and completely himself.

How could she leave when he was looking at her like she was everything?

"I don't know how to stay," she whispered, the confession breaking something loose in her chest. "I don't know how to watch-" She caught herself. "I don't know how to do any of this."

"Then we'll figure it out together." His hands slid down to frame her face, thumbs brushing away fresh tears. "Just don't run from me again. Please."

"I won't. Not now, not ever." The promise sat right on her tongue, true and terrifying all at once.

He kissed her then, sealing her promise with a warmth that made her toes curl. Finally, she was finally in his arms.

"Come inside," Ashley offered softly, tugging at his hand. "You must be freezing."

Cole's eyes widened slightly. "Your parents-"

"Already know someone's on the porch. Mom's probably been watching through the kitchen window this whole time." A laugh bubbled up, surprising them both. "Besides, you can help us fix the pie dough I murdered."

The warmth hit them like a wave as they stepped inside. Her mother had tactfully busied herself with the oven, but Ashley didn't miss the small smile playing on her lips. Flour still dusted the counter where she'd left their earlier attempts.

"Mom," Ashley said, her voice steadier than she felt. "This is Cole."

Her mother turned, wiping her hands on her apron. Her eyes moved between them, taking in Cole's snow-damp hair, Ashley still wearing his coat, their joined hands. Her smile widened. "The physicist who's been making my daughter question her life choices?"

"Mom!" Ashley was fighting a grin now too.

"I prefer to think of it as expanding her horizons," Cole replied smoothly, and Ashley's heart did a funny little flip at how easily he stepped into this moment. "Though I have to admit, quantum mechanics isn't usually this intimidating." He gestured at the disaster zone of flour and dough.

Her mother laughed. "Well, come on then. Show us if physics translates to pastry."