by Rebecca Shea
"Frankie," he says quietly as I shuffle nervously from foot to foot. "Judy said you were back here and to knock." He points his thumb over his shoulder at my bedroom door .
"Why are you here, Cole?" I push past him, opening my bedroom door. I toss the pile of clothes in my hands into a laundry basket that has been sitting in my room since I left all those years ago. My hands shake as I tighten the belt on my robe .
And just like he always did, Cole follows me into my room, closing the door behind him and leaning against it just like he used to .
"Because I have something you want….and to get it back, you're going to give me something I want." He raises his eyebrows and narrows his eyes slightly. His perfect lips twist into a little smirk .
"Oooooh, really." I chuckle nervously and roll my eyes .
"Yeah, really." He steps away from the door and takes a step toward me. Our eyes are locked on one another as he invades my space .
"What do you want so badly from me, Cole? Seems like you've taken everything possible from me already." My voice shakes with emotion that has snuck up on me and I clear my throat to shove it down .
He stops mid-step and blows out a long puff of air. I watch him close his baby blue eyes for a moment. "I deserved that," he says softly, resuming his advance toward me. I can smell him and my knees shake. Musky and clean. "I want thirty minutes of your time. That's it." His presence is even more intimidating as he moves closer. He was always tall, but now he towers over me. His blue eyes lock on mine and I inhale sharply .
"And what do I get in return?" I take a small step backward, making myself just out of his reach. His eyes drop to my chest as my robe falls off one of my shoulders. He licks his bottom lip slowly as his eyes find their way back up to mine .
"Two things. Your purse." He takes another step toward me, trapping me into the corner of my room, and with one more step he closes in on me. His hands grip my upper arms and his thumb strokes the thin, soft fabric of my robe. I gasp at his touch, my arms trembling under his grasp. "And the truth," he says, pinching his eyes closed before opening them again. "You deserve the truth ."
"What if I don't want the truth?" I try to shrug him off of me, but he inches even closer, pinning me firmly up against the wall. I can feel every one of his rigid muscles through the thin fabric of my robe, and my entire traitorous body reacts to his closeness. My nipples tighten against his chest and my heart races along with his. The air between us is wrapped in the slightest hints of beer and the same cologne that enveloped me in his bed last night. Heat pools between my legs as Cole brushes the knuckles of one hand over my cheek before pulling his hand away while his other hand grips my other arm firmly .
"Would you rather live the rest of your life believing a lie?" He releases my arm and I can feel the warmth of his breath against my face he's so close. His blue eyes penetrate mine, looking for my answer. An answer I can't give because I want nothing more than the truth, but I don't know that I'm strong enough to handle his truth .
I close my eyes, my entire body trembling—with fear and with need…of the truth and for Cole Ryan .
Both of his hands drop to his sides as he takes a step back, and I immediately miss his closeness. "You know where to find me," he says, his voice is full of despair. "When you're ready ."
I swallow hard against my dry throat as Cole disappears out of my bedroom, the door slamming closed behind him .
* * *
I spend the next couple of hours curled up next to mama, hoping that being near her will calm me down. The walls are thin in this house, and from the look on her face when I came into her room, I know she heard everything .
Not a word is spoken about Cole, but he is the elephant in the room. Mama looks at me with sad eyes, knowing he’s my one true love—but also the person who broke me .
She squeezes my arm with her good hand and tucks my head under her chin while we watch a movie in her room, her silent way of comforting me. I finally give in and kiss her goodnight, so I can put myself to bed in hopes of sleeping all thoughts of Cole away .
But for the next few hours, I toss and turn wildly in my bed as the realization settles in…there is no getting over Cole. I can still smell him in my room. I can still feel his hard body pressed against mine. Sweat beads along my hairline as I wrestle between wanting to know the truth and leaving the past behind me .
Seconds, minutes, and hours tick by when I finally give in and push myself out of bed. I slip into a pair of flip-flop sandals and pull a sweater on over my silk camisole and pajama shorts. Twisting my doorknob slowly, I pray the hinges don't squeak as I pull the door open and sneak quietly down the hallway .
Once I'm safely outside, I haul ass across the street and right up the front steps of his porch. I ball my fist and beat on his door—hard. It might be three-thirty in the morning, but I'll be damned if he's going to sleep when I can't .
I wiggle my toes as I wait a few seconds before banging again. The turn of the lock jolts me as the door flies open .
Cole is stepping into a pair of jeans. "What the fuuu—" he mumbles before suddenly stopping when he sees me standing in front of him. His jeans never made it the entire way up, and I can’t help but stare at the familiar way they hang open, resting on his hips. His boxer briefs are on full display, along with his toned abs and that trail of fine hair that leads from his navel down into the waistband of those briefs. I pinch my eyes closed for a moment, drowning out the memory of what's underneath those briefs .
I meet his wary gaze and, square my shoulders and lift my chin, taking in a deep breath and clearing my throat. "I'm ready ."
He blows a puff of air from his mouth and shakes his head. Running a hand through his mussed-up hair, he opens the door wider with his other hand. "It's three-thirty in the morning, Frankie, but by all means come on in ."
I step over the threshold, my shoulder brushing against his bare chest. I pull my sweater tighter and wrap my arms around my waist as Cole closes and locks the door behind us. I notice my bare legs poking out from under the sweater as I catch a glimpse of myself in a mirror. Maybe it was a mistake to come straight here in my pajamas, but it’s too late as I follow Cole through the main living room and into the kitchen .
"Want something to drink?" he asks over his shoulder as he pulls a coffee filter out of a cupboard and drops it into the coffee pot. It's impossible to miss how his body has changed from the lean young man he was ten years ago into the solid man he is today. The curve of every muscle is on full display with every movement he makes .
"No, thanks." I drop my eyes from him and rub my arms briskly to fight off the shiver that just rippled through my body .
He glances at me quickly before he dumps coffee grounds directly into the filter without measuring and presses start on the display. The coffee maker purrs to life and the smell of fresh brewed coffee begins to fill the kitchen .
"Suit yourself, but this isn't going to be a quick conversation, so—" He stops himself and looks at me, pinning me with his blue eyes. Pulling his bottom lip in between his teeth, he leans against the kitchen counter, his hip resting against the stone countertop as he clears his throat. "What I'm asking you, Frankie, is that you please hear me out. That you promise not to leave or walk away until I'm finished." His tired blue eyes plead with me to stay—to not run like I always do .
I begrudgingly nod in response and his shoulders fall as he visibly relaxes, a deep sigh escaping his perfect lips .
He whispers, "Thank you," before turning and pulling two coffee mugs out of his cupboard. He empties the coffee pot into the two mugs, handing me one, clearly ignoring my earlier response declining a drink .
"Trust me. You're going to want coffee." He looks at the clock on the wall, reminding me that t
his is the middle of the night and not exactly a convenient time for this conversation—not that there ever would be a good time. "Follow me." He nods his head and I follow behind him down the hallway toward his bedroom. Only we don't turn left into his bedroom, we turn right into what I remember was his father's room. He flips on the lights and what used to be his father's room has been transformed into a huge office with a library and sitting area. French doors were added that lead to an outdoor patio, but Cole gestures me over to the sitting area. A plush couch and two oversized chairs are positioned in front of a stone fireplace, creating a comfortable ambience .
My eyes take in the room, blinking in awe at how beautifully the space was transformed and just how remarkably different it looks. I would’ve never guessed this was once a bedroom. The closet doors have been removed and replaced with built-in bookshelves .
Cole notices me looking and entertains my curiosity. "After Pops died, I had a hard time coming in this room. Everything reminded me of him and how sick he got. Carter suggested I make the space something usable instead of leaving the door closed and shutting my memories inside here. So we made it my office and sitting room." His face looks pained as he speaks of his father's memory and the space that was once his .
"It's beautiful," I remark quietly. "You've done a lot to the house. You'd never guess that from seeing the outside—" I stop myself, realizing how bitchy that sounds. But the front porch is basically a dilapidated mess, however once you walk through the front door you're moved into an entirely different world .
He nods, taking a seat on the couch. "There are some memories I wasn't ready to touch just yet." He swallows hard and sips his coffee, my heart sinking because I know his meaning—the front porch. We'd spend hours on each other's porches talking, sharing…planning our futures. Our last night together we sat on his front porch and I told him of my plans to get us out of Crescent Ridge…to get married and start a family. I should have sensed something was different about him that night, but I didn't realize then that he was already so far gone from me at that time .
He pins me with his gaze and I take a seat opposite him on one of the oversized chairs. I tuck my feet up under my bottom and hold the large mug of coffee in both hands. For not wanting a drink, I'm thankful for something to hold as it steadies my shaking hands .
"Frankie," he pauses, "before I start, I have to ask you…are you happy?" His eyes fall to my left hand, particularly my ring finger where Ted's ring sits .
Anger bubbles just below the surface, because that's not why I'm here. I'm not here to talk about whether I'm happy. I'm not here to talk about Ted. I'm here for the truth about what happened all those years ago .
I sigh loudly, showing my annoyance. " Cole — "
His eyes are full of pain as he cuts me off. "Answer me, Frankie ."
"I am," I reply. "I'm happy." I lie. I don't even know what I feel anymore. I'm comfortable with Ted. He provides some level of stability to my life, but I can't say he's the love of my life .
He nods again, and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His head falls forward and he shakes it back and forth as if shrugging off unwanted thoughts. Silence fills the space between us as I wait for him to begin, and I squeeze the ceramic mug again to calm my fraying nerves .
Clearing his throat, he lifts his head and looks directly into my eyes. His fingers are laced together and he bobs his knees nervously. I've never seen Cole so out of sorts. Ever. Cole was always the epitome of collected and put together, never letting his nerves or anxiety get the better of him .
"Ten years ago," he starts, his voice steady but low, "you believed a lie I put into place." I inhale sharply and my back stiffens. "I was never with Whitney Carson. Ever ."
He wasn't …?
My heart pounds in my chest and I rub my stomach that hurts so much it feels like I might vomit. But…I'll never forget seeing them kiss on his front porch or the swell of her stomach when she ran over to me that night after I saw them. What does he mean he wasn't with her ?
"I saw you — "
He shakes his head. "You saw me kiss her. That's all, Frankie. Let me finish, please ."
Kiss her . He makes it sound so trivial. He kissed her when he was with me. He kissed her when he was my boyfriend. Anger courses through my veins and I feel heat flush my face as he continues .
"That was the first and only kiss…despite the rumors you may have heard. I begged her to play along with my lie and she hated it." He rubs his forehead and his eyes are full of shame .
I chew on my bottom lip, drawing blood as I bite back the wrath I want to unleash from inside me .
"The last time you came home…prior to that," he clears his throat. "I saw how much you'd changed. In a good way, Frankie. You were blossoming into the woman you were always meant to be. Your face brightened when you'd talk about your classes, your friends, and preparing for law school. You were living your dreams, and I was holding you back." His voice breaks and he pauses to clear his throat. I scoff but don't say anything, and I can feel my blood pressure rise as he recalls that visit home. I remember it as clearly as he does. "Frankie, I was never leaving Crescent Ridge. I didn’t have the ambition you did. I was always meant to take over Pop's auto shop and live here." He points his finger toward the floor as if all of Crescent Ridge is here in this house. "You were bound for bigger things, and as much as I loved you…still love you," his eyes hold mine at that confession, "you were bound for bigger things than Crescent Ridge, and me, so I used Whitney to push you away ."
My eyes blur with tears and I can feel my chin trembling. I know this is his story to tell, but goddammit it's my story, too. It was my future he decided to change without a discussion. One single lie he let me believe changed our lives forever. My head spins as my lungs tighten and I can barely breathe. I feel like I might hyperventilate, but manage to speak .
"So you thought you'd make a decision that impacted me? Us? Without talking to me first?" I snap at him. The mug of coffee shakes in my hand, threatening to spill because of how angry I am and how hard my hands are shaking. "So you made up a story about Whitney Carson and let me believe that story for ten fucking years, Cole?" I scream at him, no longer holding back .
Tears flood my eyes and my chin trembles. "You could’ve just broken up with me. You could’ve told me you didn't love me anymore!" I scream .
He shakes his head and rakes his hand over his face. The tears I've been holding back break free from my eyes as a sob escapes my throat. I feel Cole's hand brush against mine as he pulls the coffee mug from my hand and kneels down in front of me. He pulls my hands into his and holds on for dear life. "God, Frankie, I'm so sorry." His voice breaks .
"The baby?" I ask in between sobs, pulling my hands out of his grasp. I don't want him touching me .
"Wasn't mine." His voice is firm, and I believe him. "Branson Miller was the father. She gave the baby up for adoption ."
"But you let me believe—" I choke out. My entire world just came crashing down around me with Cole's confession .
He nods and swallows hard. "Biggest mistake of my life. Behind letting you go. I used her to push you away, Frankie ."
All the anger I've been holding onto, the bitterness, the rage breaks free and I raise my hand and slap him across his face as hard as I can. The slap echoes in the room, such a satisfying sound that I’m able to ignore the intense sting in my hand. I hate violence. Despise it. But something inside me snaps. He closes his eyes and pulls his lips into his mouth as I lose control. I kick my feet out from underneath me and begin kicking toward him, pushing him away from me. "I hate you!" I cry, the tears coming in buckets. So many decisions were made on Cole's lie and I hate him for that.
"I fucking hate you !"
His large hands grab my upper arms, pressing them to my sides as he tries to calm me, but my mouth has a mind of its own now. "Fuck you, Cole. Fuck. You." The tears come harder as my fury grows. Ten years of pent up anger I release. The prison I've been living in just opened its doors .
He stops my assault by pulling me up from the chair and wrapping me in his arms tightly, engulfing me in his embrace. "I'm so sorry, Frankie. Please forgive me," he begs .
But there aren't enough apologies to forgive what he's done—what he's destroyed. I shake in his arms, but I'm too tired to fight anymore. I fall into his chest, letting him hold me and I simply cry as I release ten years of hurt and anger. I cry for his lies and for mine. I cry for the pain he’s caused and how those lies changed the course of our lives forever. The days we'll never get back, and the sacrifices I made based on those lies. Everything inside my body hurts .
Cole felt he was doing something good by letting me go, when in reality he destroyed everything I ever wanted and everything we had planned together. His lies destroyed everything I believed in .
Eleven
M y face still stings from her slap. She got me good, and fuck, I deserved so much more than a slap across the face. Her entire body trembles under my embrace, but I refuse to let her go. She'll run and I'm so fucking tired of her running. I've been holding her for nearly an hour, and I'll hold her for twelve more if that's what it takes for her to stay and talk to me. I need her forgiveness…hell, I need her .
Her crying has finally subsided, and I press my lips to the top of her head, praying she can feel the kisses I'm pouring into her, feel the love for her I never let die. I believed I was doing the right thing in letting her go—letting her live a life she deserved outside of this shitty small town, and me .
To see the damage I've caused to her is unbearable. The pain on her face when I told her about my lie damn near destroyed me. The hurt she's been holding onto all this time is something I'll never forgive myself for .
