“You moved,” Beth murmured, peering through the windshield at the three story building.
“Yeah,” was all he could think to say, because telling her being in their place for the last three years without her had been like being in hell, slowly roasting alive. He also didn’t tell her that he had left everything behind, except his clothes. That everything in his apartment was new and untainted by the memories of her touch. She would find out soon enough.
Unlike the homey arrangement of her apartment, his was simple. Basic. The walls were red bricks and the floor hardwood. The only splashes of colors were the pictures the girls had colored and were pinned everywhere. His furniture was simple, worn, but comfortable. There were books, papers, and the occasional piece of clothing strewn throughout the place, but it was reasonably clean.
“It’s nice.” She said quietly. She scanned the walls. “Do you still have the painting of the blue bird?”
The blue bird had been one of the most ridiculous paintings of some bird type thing anyone had ever seen. But she’d seen it in the window of the pawn shop across the street the morning they’d moved into their apartment together and had instantly fallen in love with it. She had brought it home and hung it over the fireplace. It had been the first item to get brought into their home.
Cole didn’t have a fireplace in his apartment. He didn’t have the blue bird.
Rather than answer her, he hauled her things across the room towards the narrow hallway in the back and the three sets of doors.
“The bathroom is through there.” He motioned with a jerk of his head towards the door at the very end of the hall. “My office.” He gestured to the door on his left. “The bedroom.”
He kicked open the door on the right and trudged through. He set the bag down on the bed to save her from bending down and quickly scooped up the discarded bits of clothes he’d left lying around. Beth was in the doorway when he turned to her, arms laden with dirty laundry.
“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I wasn’t expecting company.”
He stuffed the bundle into the hamper and quickly examined the room for any boxers he might have forgotten. Satisfied there was nothing else, he looked her way and was caught off guard by the ghost of something excruciatingly painful reflecting behind her eyes.
“Beth?”
Her gaze shifted away from the bed to him. Her lips twitched in what was probably meant to be a smile. Instead it trembled and fell flat.
“Everything’s different,” she murmured with broken enthusiasm.
Cole said nothing.
“It’s nice,” she whispered, taking a tiny step deeper into the room.
Guilt twisted his insides like spaghetti on a fork. The pain crippled his words. He didn’t know how to apologize when he didn’t know what he was apologizing for. It was becoming impossible to remember she had left him. Didn’t he have a right to move on?
Avoiding her eyes, Cole moved to step around her and escape. “I’m going to call Lily and let her know we’re back.”
She didn’t stop him.
Cole stalked into the kitchen and leaned against the counter. His hand shook when he raised it to cover his face.
This was a place he had built to forget her. Now she was there, destroying him all over again.
He made roast chicken pasta salad for supper. The apartment was quiet despite there being two people present. Beth had stayed in the backroom for most of the afternoon. He assumed she was either resting, or keeping out of his way. He didn’t try drawing her out. He wasn’t ready to face her there in his space. Not yet.
He was in the process of dumping the freshly cooked pasta into the bowl of ingredients when the phone jingled. He dug into his pocket and fished the thing out.
“Hello?” He mashed it between his ear and shoulder while shaking the last of the pasta into the bowl.
“Hey!” Lily’s cheerful voice filled his ear. “What are you doing?”
He set the pasta pot aside. “Making supper. What are you doing?”
“I was just about to hang your daughter upside down by her ankles from the ceiling fan.”
Cole made a humming sound. “Again? What did she do this time?”
“She told Willa that drinking a cupful of hot sauce would give her super powers.”
His eyebrows went up. “A whole cupful? That seems excessive.”
“Cole!”
Biting back his snicker, he cleared his throat. “You’re right. She’s a terrible child. We should trade her in.” He couldn’t see it, but he could feel her hot glare through the phone. “Is Willa okay?”
Lily sighed. “Yes, she’s fine. Thank God Sloan caught her before she could actually do it. He’s upstairs with Calla now, talking to her about not tricking her sister like that.”
“Especially not with hot sauce,” Cole mumbled, tracking down a wooden spoon. “That stuff’s expensive.”
There was amusement in her voice now when she spoke. “You know, she’s just like her father. Remember the time you put vinegar in Sloan’s Sprite?”
Cole burst out laughing at the memory. “Aw, his face was priceless. And what do you mean you? I recall you holding the Sprite bottle while I poured.”
“I don’t recall that.”
“Of course not.”
Now even she was laughing.
“So, how are things going over there?”
Spoon in hand, Cole shot a glance towards the hallway and the closed door leading into his bedroom.
“Okay,” he mumbled for lack of anything better.
“You guys okay? Do you need anything?”
A bigger apartment with separate sections. But he didn’t say as much.
“No, I think we’re okay. Probably going to eat and get some sleep. I have to work in the morning.”
There was a pause in which Cole could have sworn he could hear her ravaging her bottom lip. Her concern was a palpable force oozing through the phone.
“It’s fine, Lil,” he said before she could speak.
“I know,” she lied horribly. “I just worry about you. I know how hard it was for you last time…”
“It won’t be like last time,” he mumbled. “This is only until her hands heal. Then I’m taking her home. That’s it.”
“Cole…”
“What was I supposed to do?” he said a little sharper than he’d intended. “Leave her there with no way to take care of herself?” He willed his temper to calm down. “It’s fine.”
Her sigh echoed between them.
“You know I love both of you, I just don’t want to see either of you getting hurt again.”
“I won’t, because I know better this time.”
He heard a shout in the background, then the sound of piercing shrieks and giggles. Lily sighed again, but it was light and hid a slight laughter.
“I think the talking to has ended. I better go finish up on supper. Call me later, okay?”
Promising that he would, he disconnected the line and set his phone down. The spoon sunk into the creamy mixture and he was about to stir when a movement caught the corner of his eye. Having lived alone for so long, there was a quick moment of surprise before he remembered why there was someone else in his home.
She stepped lightly into the room, still clad in her sweats. The sleeves covered her bandaged arms all the way to the knuckles of her hands. She offered him a smile that looked forced and painful.
“Hey.”
He gave her a nod and went back to finishing up supper.
“You learned to cook,” she realized with a slight grin. “No more microwavable dinners, huh?
Cole shrugged. “I had to eat.”
He knew he was being curt, even rude, and it had been his idea for her to be there, but he hadn’t thought just how hard it would be. Seeing her there, with him, in the same place, it was a reminder of everything they’d once had. Everything she had just walked away from for no reason. It infuriated him. Not just at her, but at himself for being so stupid.
“Beth.” He raised his head and forced himself to look into her face. “I’m sorry.” He set the spoon aside and pressed his palms down flat on either side of the bowl. “I wasn’t expecting this to be so hard.”
He expected her to get annoyed by his indecision, by his rapid flip of emotions, but she gave a resigned sigh and nodded.
“I know.” She mashed her lips together. “Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea.”
It was a way out. It wasn’t too late. He could take her home, get her out of his life again, and continue where he’d left off. He could do it. He would certainly try.
“No,” he said more to himself then her. “We just need to adjust. It’ll take some time, but we can do it.”
He turned away from her and reached for the cupboard. He drew down bowls. She was still standing in the same spot when he divvied up the pasta. He slid one bowl over to her and motioned for her to take the stool on the other side of the counter.
She wavered, her apprehension a thick coil wound tightly around her. He could see her thinking, the wheels grinding behind her eyes. Part of him almost hoped she would be the strong one to put her foot down and demand he take her back.
But it turned out that she was as weak as he was.
She sat.
Cole released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and it wasn’t out of relief. Not entirely.
“How’s your hands?” He took his time retrieving a fork from the cutlery drawer.
“They’re okay.”
The utensils rattled when he slammed the drawer shut. He walked around the counter to her side and claimed the stool next to hers. His fingers closed around the bowl and he dragged it the rest of the way to him.
“How many times did the doctor say you needed to change them?”
“Twice a day,” she murmured.
He nodded. “We’ll change them after your shower, before bed.”
For someone who knew her routine like his own, it hadn’t really clicked until that moment that he was in charge of bathing her. The realization struck him simultaneously like a quick, double jab that left him temporarily winded.
“I can do the shower myself.” She must have seen the, oh fuck on his face.
It was a relief, but he also knew she was lying. How could she possibly scrub all that thick, glorious hair when she couldn’t even bend her fingers enough to grip a spoon?
“We’ll figure it out,” was all he was willing to give her. “Open.”
He fed her first, then, while she strolled around the sitting area, he polished off his bowl and dumped both into the sink.
“How long have you been here?” she asked while he doused their dirty dishes with hot water.
Cole didn’t glance up, unable to meet her eye when he answered. “A year.”
“What made you move?”
The fact that I waited three years for you to come back, and you didn’t. And that place was suffocating me.
“Rent’s cheaper,” he lied.
“I remember passing by this place on my way to the hospital,” she mused. “Never been inside though.”
He said nothing while concentrating with a little too much focus on scrubbing the dishes clean and putting them away. He ran a cloth over the counters and rinsed the inside of the sink. It was the most cleaning he’d ever done at once. Normally, he didn’t even wash his supper dishes until the next day, simply because he would take his supper into the office and forget his dishes there until he needed something, or ran out of spoons. But the mindless task helped calm him.
“We probably shouldn’t submerge your hands,” he mumbled after a minute, coming to terms that ignoring the elephant in the room wasn’t going to make it go away. “I can draw you a bath and…” wash you. Touch your naked skin. Somehow the rest of that sentence seemed to lodge itself in his throat.
It clearly wouldn’t be the first time he’d seen her naked. He’d more than seen her naked. He’d touched, kissed, and licked every inch of her at some point or other. He’d held her, hot and damp with sweat as he drove them both over a very steep cliff into a whirlpool of colors. He knew her body better than he knew his own. In all reality, he should be immune to it, yet the prospect drowned him in a wave of lust.
“I don’t really feel like having a … a bath tonight.” Her voice quivered. “I’m actually kind of tired. But I could use some help with my teeth.”
Relief and disappointment tangled together and Cole shoved both aside.
He nodded and followed her to the bedroom. Her suitcase sat where he had placed it on the foot of her bed. He carried it for her to the dresser and set it down on top and pried it open. The flower printed toiletry bag was tucked in the corner as it always was. He pulled it free and motioned for her to follow him into the bathroom.
She stood with her hip against the counter while he ran the soft bristles of the toothbrush around inside her mouth. When she was satisfied her teeth were properly clean, he held a cup of water to her mouth and stepped back as she rinsed and spat.
“Okay?”
Straightening, Beth nodded. “Yes.”
He grabbed a towel off the handlebar and lightly dabbed at her mouth and chin. That close, he could smell the peppermint on her breath. It made him anxious to lean in and taste her, to slide his tongue over the smooth surface of her teeth and delve deep into the hot crevice of her mouth.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“Welcome.” He grabbed his own toothbrush. “Is there anything else you need?”
She shook her head. “Just to change my bandages and I need to take these off.” She tugged on her sweater. “It shouldn’t be too hard.”
Setting his brush down, Cole grabbed the little box of bandages off the back of the toilet. The process was a whole lot simpler the second time around. It was hard to strip her without letting his hands shake.
Gingerly, he wrapped his hands around the hem of her sweater and hoisted the material gently over her head and down her arms. He reached for her sweats next, hooking his fingers into the waistband and tugging them free. Both were done quickly, methodically, without giving himself a chance to really register the act. He didn’t even look at her once she was clad in her shorts and camisole.
“Better?”
She seemed to hesitate before answering. “Yes.”
Still avoiding her eyes, he turned back to the sink.
She was gone when he finished assaulting his gums. The bedroom door was partially shut and he figured she’d gone to bed. Grateful for the escape, he took it and locked himself up in his cluttered little office.
The room was smaller than the bedroom, but it had enough space for a metal desk, a swiveling chair, a trio of filing cabinets and a futon. There was already a blanket and pillow heaped on top from the countless number of nights he’d spent there when Willa and Calla slept over on weekends and took over his bed. It wasn’t the most comfortable pieces of furniture, but it did the trick most nights.
That night, he kicked off his shoes, chucked off his pants and top and crawled under the blankets without bothering with anything else. His mind and body were, for the first time, in complete agreement—both were too exhausted to give a flying fuck about anything, except getting some sleep.
It was the stench of burning toast that jarred him awake after what felt like mere minutes. For one horrific second, he wondered if the stress was finally giving him a stroke when the fire alarms shrilled to life.
Mind still lost between sleep and reality, he tumbled off the futon. The blankets formed a noose around his ankle, hindering his attempts to regain his footing. Half hopping, half stumbling, he threw himself at the door and out.
Black smoke formed a heavy fog across the ceiling. It thickened the air, making it impossible to breathe. Certain that the apartment was on fire, He slipped and slid his way down the hall, shouting Beth’s name.
; She stood in the kitchen, frantically waving a dish rag in the air the way motorsport marshals waved their flags at a race. The sink was running, drowning his toaster, yet the thing continued to billow black smoke into the air.
“What…?”
Beth turned at the sound of his voice, her expression one of absolute guilt and horror. “I am so sorry!”
Bemused, but semi-conscious of the fact that there was no fire, Cole ran to the windows and began yanking them open one by one until the late autumn chill filled the apartment and the smoke curled out into the cloudy morning. Moving quickly across the room, he grabbed a chair and dragged it under the blaring fire alarm. Climbing up, he yanked the device down and tore out the batteries, catapulting them into a blissful calm that was broken solely by the rush of water.
He hopped down and faced the only other person in the room.
“What happened?” he demanded, dropping the fire alarm down onto the counter.
Rag still in her hands, Beth flinched. “I was making toast?”
He glanced down at the ruined machine in the sink and raised an eyebrow. “Was there a bomb inside the toaster?”
She smacked the faucet off with her forearm. “I must not have checked the dial,” she confessed. “I put the bread in and went to read a book and the next thing I knew, there was smoke everywhere and the alarms were going off.” She raised her green eyes up to his, her face twisted in a sheepish grimace. “I will get you another toaster.”
Cole rubbed the tips of his fingers over his brow, more to try and erase the headache brewing behind his temples than anything else.
“What time is it?”
Her hesitation spoke before she did. “Five?”
Of course it was, because waking up at a normal hour was just asking too much.
“Okay, house rules.” He raised his head and pointed a finger at her. “You are not allowed in the kitchen. Apparently, you still haven’t learned how to cook.”
“I can cook!” she protested.
Cole gave her a dry glower. “My toaster would disagree.”
“Well, who sets the damn temperature so high? It was at like ten.”
“People who like their toast a little crispy,” he shot back. “Also, people who pay attention not to burn the house down.”
Bye-Bye Baby Page 7
