Page 9 of Unbreakable Bonds (The Boston Romance #2)

COLE

I peek through the window and find my fear of being the worst father in history pipe down as I see my daughter sitting on the couch watching TV. Her blonde hair is up in a ponytail, and as she laughs, her blue eyes twinkle with an intensity that could light up a city block.

When Alisha told me cooking together could change our relationship, I was skeptical, but seven days later, I have to admit she was right.

Samantha opened up the day we started cooking.

She answered questions about her life in Los Angeles and told us she disliked high school because she got bullied there.

We even laughed and teased each other, and at the end of the day, I found myself looking forward to the next day.

A big thanks for this shift goes to Miss Firecracker, whose sparkly personality helped Samantha feel more at home.

Nervousness awakens in my gut as I stroll inside, knowing what sensitive topic I have to address. Standing in the doorway, I study Samantha, who has her feet up on the couch, her hands around her legs, and her head resting on her knees as she watches TV.

"Samantha, can we talk?" My voice comes out softer than intended.

With hesitance in her action, she grabs the remote control and mutes the sound on the television. The silence feels heavy, loaded with all the things we haven't said yet.

"Is something wrong?" Her voice trembles slightly.

"I received a phone call from Los Angeles this morning, and it concerns your mom." The words feel like rocks in my throat.

Her eyes become watery. "Your mom's ashes arrived here in Boston."

Her breath hitches, and her pupils dilate. "Why? Who did that?"

I run my fingers along my jaw while answering, trying to keep my voice steady. "I've arranged for them to be transferred here. This morning, I got the call. And I..."

A bomb of emotions explodes in my chest as Samantha leans forward and wraps her arms around my neck.

I place my hands on her back and return the hug, my heart cracking and healing all at once.

This is the first time we have hugged, and it feels like coming home.

Her small frame shutters in my arms, and my heart opens as she bursts into tears.

"Thank you, Cole," she whispers between her sobs. "I miss her so much."

"That's why I did this. I thought you might want her here. This way you can visit her whenever you feel like it." She nods against my chest.

We stay in this embrace, and as my palms caress her back, my soul connects on a deeper level with hers, because I understand what she's going through. The serious, introverted side of my personality grew stronger after my father's passing. Loss changes you in ways you can never predict.

Samantha sits up straight, and after wiping the remaining tears from her eyes with trembling fingers, she fiddles with her hands in her lap.

"You want to ask me something, don't you?" I say in a mild voice. "I realize I may not always look approachable, but I am. Especially for you, Samantha."

"Even for the lady stuff?" she adds with a slight grin.

I clear my throat, heat crawling up my neck. "Okay, you've got me there. Maybe not for everything."

She chuckles, then her expression turns serious. "How did you meet my mom?" A gentle flush of pink colors her cheeks.

I hold my breath for a moment as I ponder how to answer this delicate question. Samantha's eyes lower as she awaits my reply, her shoulders tensing like she's preparing for rejection.

Honesty has worked the best so far, so...

"I was seventeen when my dad died, and I struggled a lot to deal with it.

I had just finished high school and needed a break.

So when an old friend of my father's asked me if I wanted to work and help out at his firm in Los Angeles, I said yes.

That's where I met your mom. She was a server in a diner where I'd go during my lunch breaks. "

Her lips curl up as she listens, hungry for every detail about the mother she lost. "She told me you were younger than her. Is that true?"

I chuckle. "Yeah, she was three years older than me, but thanks to my height and posture, people assumed I was older."

"Did you love her?"

I let out a long sigh, memories flooding back like a broken dam.

"The truth, please," she whispers, and in that moment she looks so much like Jessica it makes my chest ache.

I scratch my forehead. "I loved your mother.

She was my first real love, but eight months after we started dating, I got accepted to college back in Boston.

She wanted me to pursue my dreams and also get into law school herself.

I mean, she had been working for years to be able to do it.

So, she told me to go back, and promised we would make it work.

.." My voice catches. "But then, three months later, she stopped returning my calls and messages, until she called me one day to break up. "

As I tell Samantha this, memories I had buried deep down rush to my mind.

Jessica didn't give me any explanations, just said she couldn't do the long-distance relationship anymore.

I tried to convince her otherwise, but she wouldn't listen.

Maybe that's part of the reason why I've never been able to open up like that again.

Too much to process at the same time for such a young boy.

Who would have thought the real reason was that she was pregnant?

"So... after everything I had gone through with my father and with how hard I had worked to get into this college, I decided to focus my attention on me and my education."

"Why didn't she tell you she was pregnant?" Samantha's voice cracks on the last word.

"I don't have an answer to that question. I wish I did."

"So you wanted me?"

I stare at her and watch how a glassy layer of sadness is ready to spill, and my heart sinks seeing how she bites on her lip to hide any sound wanting to escape from her mouth. Without thinking, I pull her against my chest, where she lets out another set of tears that soak into my shirt.

"You thought I didn't want you?" I whisper as emotions restrict my voice.

She nods in my embrace, her whole body trembling.

"God, I'm so sorry, Samantha," I sigh, holding her tighter.

"If I had known..." Regret washes over me like the long and slow waves on a shallow beach.

How I yearn to go back in time. My brain fires tons of burning questions as I'm holding her in my arms. Why, Jessica, why didn't you tell me? Why did you raise our child alone?

Minutes later, Samantha sits back up and glances at me. She fumbles with the end of her ponytail, and as I stand up to get a drink, she whispers, "Thank you for not dumping me with a foster family, Cole."

I twist my head and answer as our eyes connect. "You're welcome. I'm glad you're here with me."

When she gives me a genuine smile, I know I'll remember this moment for the rest of my life. "Do you want me to drop you off at school?"

"No, I'm taking the bus today. Thanks for the offer."

I pull my ringing phone out of my pocket and answer. "Hey, Tommy. How is it going?"

"Not good."

"What's wrong?"

"Uh... Alisha is not doing well. She's having a panic attack."

"What?" My instinct kicks in. "I'm on my way. I'll be there ASAP."

I end the call and turn to Samantha. "I need to go. Alisha needs my help. Is it okay if I leave you here?"

She giggles. "Cole, I'm fifteen, not a baby. I'll be fine. Go, I'll see you after school."

With an urgency I've never experienced before, I grab my keys and rush out to my car.

As I drive out of the apartment building, my attention drifts to a fierce blonde.

What the hell happened? Two days ago, I told her I arranged private self-defense classes for her.

At first, I wanted to do it myself, but since I experience specific reactions when I'm near her, I asked Tommy.

With an unsettled mind, I rush to the gym, and once inside, I make my way over to Tommy, who uncrosses his legs and takes an active stand.

"Where is she?"

"She's alone in the private room. I've made sure no one goes in there."

I narrow my eyes. "What the hell happened?"

"Elli came in with an envelope that had her name written on it. The moment she opened it, she freaked out. I tried to calm her, but when I touched her, she launched her nails at me, and screamed, 'Don't touch me.' Man, the woman is hot, but one broken mess."

My nostrils flare at his insensitive words. To regain my calmness, I take a deep inhale through my nose while flexing my neck muscles. "Okay, you're dismissed from training her."

When he sees my furious expression, he nods and walks off. I make my way to the end of the hallway, and when I arrive at the door, my hand lingers on the handle. For a moment I listen, and when I hear nothing, I enter.

Inside I find her standing in the middle of the gym room with her shoulders and head hung down.

Her chest rises and falls in rapid, shallow breaths, each one looking more painful than the last. A piece of paper lies at her feet, and her laboring breath tells me her emotions are sky high.

Not wanting to scare her more, I say her name while approaching her with caution.

"Alisha?" I stop when I'm two feet away from her, noticing her body is mimicking a statue. Every muscle in her frame is rigid, like she's trying to hold herself together through sheer will. "Talk to me."

Instead of repeating myself, I wait. Moments pass, but then her lips move. Her voice trembles with desperation, raw and broken.

"I want him to leave me alone. Why can't it stop?"

Her head lifts, and my breath hitches as her gaze meets mine. Suffering, loneliness, despair, fear. Those and many more deep-seated emotions whirl around in her depths like a storm trying to tear her apart. I grab the note from the floor, and as I read the text, my blood runs cold.

I miss you, Alisha Alexandra McQueen. See you soon, doll face.

My eyes fly back to hers, and my heart aches to see her struggling and fighting with this demon. I take another step towards her.

"Go away!" Her voice cracks like breaking glass.

"I'm not going anywhere."

She steps forward, presses her palms against my chest as she tries to push me back.

Her hands are trembling, ice-cold against my shirt.

"Are you deaf? Leave!" Her voice is an octave higher as she continues to scream at me.

"I don't want you here." Her hands turn into fists, and as she turns her back toward me, her head drops. "I can handle this alone."

Sweat beads on her forehead, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. The strong, vibrant woman I know is fighting to stay in control, but I can see her slipping.

"Alisha, it's okay if—"

She spins on her feet, lifts her chin high, and with irises on fire, she stares straight into my eyes while pushing her finger into my pecs.

"Don't you say it's okay to cry. Everyone keeps saying that goddamn shit," she exclaims, now pressing her full hand against my rib cage with greater force.

Her whole body trembles with the effort to hold back tears. "But I will not cry."

I hold my breath as I gaze into her green seas.

All the beauty of the universe can't compete with this simple thing I perceive: determination.

It transforms her eyes into orbs of the brightest fire, and in them, I read she will fight this to the very last tear she's holding.

God, I admire her strength and bravery. I know how it feels to battle them, so I promise myself I'll do everything to help her beat this demon.

"You will be okay." I keep my voice steady, an anchor in her storm.

"How can you say that?" Her words come out in a rush, like they've been waiting to escape.

"After months, my fucking mind still can't forget, Cole.

The moment I close my eyes, he's back, staring at me with his malicious gaze.

" Her voice breaks, but she pushes on. "The bastard loved every second of what he did to me.

He enjoyed seeing my pain and fear. And now," she says, pointing to the letter, her hand shaking violently, "he's out there watching me, and it's scaring the shit out of me. "

She steps forward, and to my surprise, she rests her forehead gently against my chest. A whirlwind of emotions overtakes me. I want to wrap her in my embrace, but knowing that might trigger her anxiety, I lower my head and whisper, "What can I do to help you?"

After she swallows, she whispers, while digging her fingers into my shirt, "Teach me how to fight. Please. I need to be sure I can beat him next time."

Fire blazes through every vein in my body. She believes he'll come back and hurt her. No way in hell. I lean backward and lift her chin until I stare into her eyes. They're still wild with fear, but there's something else there now—a spark of hope, maybe.

"I'll help you."

She lets out a long sigh. "Thank you."

"You are not broken. I'll teach you how to protect yourself so that when he visits you in your dreams, you'll be the one kicking his ass and making him scream in pain. Am I clear?"

A soft smile flashes across her face, when she raises her head, and it's a dazzling sight. Where Samantha's laugh gives me a sense of happiness, this woman's smile radiates through my skin and melts into my soul.

"When do you want to begin your training?"

As she inspects me, I already know her answer. "Now!" she says.

"Okay, then let's do this, Miss McQueen."