Page 57 of Unbreakable Bonds (The Boston Romance #2)

COLE

I make my way through Boston's streets, each stride carrying the weight of betrayal. The city's constant noise should drown out the chaos in my head, but after hours of walking, the questions only grow louder, more insistent.

Why did she do it? How could she side with my mother after everything? Don't my feelings mean shit to her?

The anger burns through my veins, making my hands clench and unclench as I push through crowds of oblivious pedestrians. Their casual chatter and laughter grate against my raw nerves.

"Cole! Cole, wait up!" Jeremy's voice cuts through the noise.

I catch his reflection in a store window but keep moving. Let him follow if he wants – I'm not in the mood for conversation. But then something stops me dead in my tracks. A piano, displayed behind pristine glass, and a young boy sliding onto the bench with pure excitement radiating from his face.

My hand moves to my chest, an old ache stirring as the kid presses down on a key. His face lights up at the sound, and suddenly I'm nine years old again, touching my dad's piano for the first time. That same magic, that same wonder.

I sink onto a nearby bench, unable to look away from the scene. Jeremy settles beside me, and for a while, we just watch in silence. When the boy notices us, he waves with uninhibited joy. I raise my hand in return, but the moment shatters as his mother appears and leads him away.

Rising to leave, I'm stopped by Jeremy tapping the wood beside him. When I don't move, he shifts and pulls something from his pocket, his hand curled into a tight fist.

"You leave me no choice, Cole." He opens his palm, and the sight of what lies there hits me like a punch to the gut.

"God, I can't believe you still have it."

"I do. And this is an ideal moment to use it." He holds up the silver coin, offering it to me like he did countless times in my childhood.

I accept the coin, its familiar weight settling in my palm. Jeremy introduced this to me when I was around nine – the 'speaking coin.' When someone offers it, they're asking you to speak from your heart while they listen without interruption. Simple, but powerful.

Man, he and I had many coin conversations.

Jeremy always knew when I needed to talk, even before I did. I plant my elbows on my knees, letting the silver disk glide between my fingers. The words start pouring out, raw and unfiltered.

"I'm fucking furious." My voice comes out rough.

"How can a mother who claims to love her son lie to him for fifteen years?

How!" I surge to my feet, pacing like a caged animal.

People passing by throw concerned glances, but I couldn't care less.

"And now Alisha – she swore she'd support me, but there she was, holding my mother's hand like they're best friends! "

The coin burns in my palm as memories of that scene flash through my mind – Alisha and my mother, heads bent together in conversation, hands clasped. The betrayal tastes like acid in my throat.

"How am I supposed to forgive any of this? I can't!"

Jeremy sits quietly, his face unreadable as I wear a path in the concrete. When I finally drop back onto the bench, exhausted, I offer him the coin. He takes it, wrapping his fingers around it deliberately.

"You've jumped to conclusions, young man." His voice is steady, certain. "You hurried away without listening to any explanation."

"Oh, come on!" The words explode out of me. "It was clear as day. My mom was pulling Alisha into her web of lies, and she fell for it like everyone else!"

Jeremy raises a brow and holds up the coin. Right. Rules are rules. I scratch my beard and mutter, "Sorry."

"Alisha did no such thing." His words carry weight.

"The sole thing she did was allow your mother to tell her side of the story.

And before she stepped into that bistro, she made one thing crystal clear – no matter what your mother said, she was on your side.

What you saw wasn't Alisha taking your mother's side.

It was her showing compassion while staying loyal to you. "

Fuck.

The truth of his words hits hard, but I'm not ready to let go. "She was holding my mother's hand."

"Is that forbidden?" Jeremy's voice sharpens. "Cole, listen carefully. You have every right to be mad at your mother. But do you want to live in this state for the rest of your life? Mourning in anger won't change what happened."

I slump back, letting his words sink in. This past week has been hell, the negative emotions consuming everything like wildfire.

"You can keep seeing the situation purely from your viewpoint," Jeremy continues, "but if you do, nothing will change.

Or you could choose to listen to more than your side.

" He releases a heavy sigh. "Your mother doesn't expect forgiveness.

But maybe, by allowing her to explain, you'll get answers to questions that have haunted you for years.

Wouldn't it be nice to let go of that weight you've been carrying? "

"Man, you missed your calling. Should've been a psychotherapist."

Jeremy's laugh lacks humor. "No, I've mastered these life lessons by dealing with my own family issues. And I learned that listening is key."

Jeremy's gaze drifts to the clouds passing overhead, his expression growing distant.

"Around the same time your dad died, I had to admit my wife to a psychiatric hospital.

" His voice drops low, heavy with old pain.

"That decision destroyed my relationship with my children.

Both my son and daughter cut me out of their lives completely – no chance to explain, no opportunity to make them understand why I did what I did. "

The revelation hits me like a physical blow. Jeremy – my rock, my second father – carrying this weight all these years. The thought of Samantha doing the same to me makes my stomach turn. If she ever shut me out like that...

Damn.

The realization crashes over me like ice water. I drag a hand down my face as understanding finally breaks through. My running from the diner, refusing my mother's calls – I'm doing exactly what Jeremy's kids did to him. She reached out to Alisha because I wouldn't give her a chance to be heard.

"Thank you, Jeremy."

"For what?" He slides the coin back into his coffee-colored pants pocket.

"You followed my stubborn ass and made me see that dwelling in anger only keeps this situation in a vacuum."

"That's your conclusion, my friend." His hand lands on my knee, warm and steady.

"Just remember – the more anger you carry in your heart, the less capable you are of love.

And you've got two amazing women in your life who adore you.

They deserve all your love. Go home and apologize to Alisha.

That woman loves you with her whole feisty personality.

And when you're ready, give your mother a chance.

She's human, Cole. Humans make mistakes. "

My throat tightens as I grab Jeremy's hand, squeezing it. "For what it's worth, I've always seen you as my second dad. Your presence in my childhood made a tremendous difference. I hope your children come back to you."

A sentimental expression crosses his face as he nods. "Thank you, Cole. I've always treated you like a second son." His lips curve slightly. "And actually, my daughter reached out two months ago. She's living in Canada now, has a family. Says she wants to restore our relationship."

We both stand, and I catch myself grinning at the little boy who's returned to the piano. But Jeremy's not finished.

"Cole, there's something else I need to ask you."

I turn to find him fidgeting with his collar, uncharacteristically nervous.

"Of course."

He clears his throat, takes a deep breath. "I understand this might come as a surprise, but I'd like your permission to ask your mother out on a date."

My mouth falls open. Of all the things I expected to hear today, this wasn't even on the list.

"What I'm saying is that your mom and I have become closer through the years."

My nose crinkles involuntarily, making Jeremy roll his eyes.

"Not like that, young man. Nothing's happened. But we've both changed, and I—"

I grip his shoulders, forcing him to meet my eyes. "You don't need my approval to ask my mom out, Jeremy. But since you want my opinion – if anyone can handle my mother, it's you."

His eyes gleam as his roaring laughter fills the street. "Yeah, I can handle her."

We walk in comfortable silence until a food truck catches our eye. After grabbing hot dogs, we head back toward the store, but it's already closed.

"Need a lift?"

"That would be great."

"Come with me. I parked in the next street."

We round the corner, and my steps falter. A police car sits midway down the block, lights flashing, and officers are clustered around a familiar vehicle.

"Pardon me," I say, approaching one officer.

He turns, offering a professional smile. "Good day, sir. Are you the owner of this car?"

"Yes, I am." The words catch in my throat as I spot the shattered side window. I pull out my wallet, hand over my license. "What happened?"

"Someone broke into your car. We received a call about the alarm going off. Witness saw someone running away. Was there anything valuable in sight?"

"No."

The officer's eyes narrow. "That's odd. Most thieves who break in mid-day do it for valuable items. They know the alarm will sound, so if there's nothing worth taking..."

I shrug, then freeze as memory hits. "Shit. My phone. I left it on the passenger seat."

"Ah, that would explain it," he nods. "High-end phone, easy to sell. Worth the risk."

After taking my statement, we drive home. Glass fragments force Jeremy into the back seat, and the wind whipping through the broken window makes conversation impossible. I drop him off, then head for my apartment, my mind already shifting to thoughts of making things right with Alisha.