23. Cole

Chapter 23

Cole

I tried not to look at myself in the mirror as I slid my cufflinks on. I checked my shirt for any wrinkles, careful not to look at my face, and dabbed a couple of fingers of cologne on either side of my neck and wrists before sliding the jacket of my tux over my arms and shoulders. My hair would have to fucking do—I didn't care enough to check.

The gala tonight would be a test. Without Dana by my side, the alcohol freely flowing at the event would be tempting beyond belief, but I'd have Grayson and Bobby to keep me in check. I just needed to get through tonight. Then I could go back to her and her son, wrap her in my arms, and try to forget about the overbearing reason that kept me from looking in the mirror.

I didn't want to see my parent's faces reflected back at me.

I hadn't been able to avoid them on the tarmac of the airport. Not when my driver had shouted my name across the goddamn empty space, alerting them to my presence.

I'd fought my way through the mindless exchange with small talk, my hand firmly grasped within Dana's. Apparently, at some point, they had settled in Bali, had two more children, and only came back to the states when they had business to attend to or people to see.

And, of course, it was just my luck they had business in Boulder.

I didn't want to introduce Dana to them. I didn't want to fold her into that part of my life, not yet, not before I had the chance to explain it all to her. But when my mother asked her point-blank if she was my wife, we'd had no choice.

"No," I'd scoffed. I didn't elaborate, and looking back on it, I probably should have. I didn't want Dana to think that I was shutting that down as a possibility down the line.

"I'm his girlfriend," Dana had said, her mood far lighter than mine as she reached out her hand to shake both of theirs. "And this is Drew, my son."

My mother, always the one to put on a good show, had tried to say hello to him. I'd stepped away from her, tucking Drew in closer to my chest.

"We'll be in Boulder for the next few weeks," my father had said, his glasses halfway down his nose. He looked so much older. He'd aged less gracefully than Mom, though based on her looks, I suspected she'd probably had some work done. "We should meet up properly. It would be nice to chat and catch up."

I had to bite my fucking tongue.

I made my way down the stairs, pushing the memory as far out of my mind as I could, trying to replace it with the good ones from our vacation instead. In the downstairs living room, the massive floor-to-ceiling bay windows letting in the last of the sunlight, Bobby relaxed on the sofa, his button-up shirt clean and crisp. He had gotten a haircut—his hair was shorter, similar in length to mine.

"Are you ready?"

He pressed a button on the remote, powering down the television. "Yep. Just got to put on my shoes."

Tonight was as good a night as ever to take the BMW. Bobby and I settled into the car; Grayson was going to meet us there.

"You look stressed," Bobby said, for once seeming a little wary when he spoke instead of just word vomiting without thinking. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," I lied.

"Is it your parents?"

"Yeah, man, it's my fucking parents," I snapped, turning a little too sharply onto the main road that would take us into town and out of the mountains.

Bobby hesitated before he spoke again. "It's shitty of them," he said, his eyes locked on the side of my face as I tried to keep myself calm. "Showing up like this, not even bothering to reach out beforehand. I mean, what kind of fucking parents do that? They abandon their kid then show up unannounced years later, with two more kids they actually seem to care enough about to keep around."

"Why now?" I scoffed, my knuckles going white as I gripped the steering wheel.

"I don't know, man," Bobby sighed. "It's bullshit though. Fuck them. Clearly, they never cared about you and they certainly haven't started now."

"What the fuck is so much better about the two kids they've got now? What the fuck did I do?" I could feel the burning begin to ache at the base of my throat, the anger driving me mad. "Why wasn't I enough?"

————

I did my absolute best to hide the anger building in me from the moment we stepped foot into the gala.

The event tonight was for struggling kids in the surrounding areas. All of the local businessmen and women would be in attendance, pledging money toward the cause or raffling off something to the attendees. Pearson Beers was raffling off a home brewing kit and a personal tour from yours truly.

"So should I get the beers, or… ?" Bobby joked, his laughter cut short when Grayson shot him a glare. "God, sorry, didn't realize I couldn't joke about my own issues."

"It's not that," Grayson said.

"No, no, I get it," Bobby relented, holding his palms up as he stepped back. "Two glasses of water and a Pearson IPA, coming right up."

Grayson held up his empty glass in thanks as Bobby stalked off, his lips going tight the moment he was out of earshot. "I don't like it, Cole," Grayson said, whipping his head toward me so fast I worried he might get whiplash. "Look at him. Look at what he's wearing."

"Bobby?" I asked, leaning forward onto my palm as I watched Bobby disappear into the crowd over the table. "What do you mean?"

"His suit looks like yours. He got a haircut."

"All suits look the same, Gray," I chuckled. "He's cleaning himself up. He's doing better. I don't see the problem here."

"Just keep an eye on him," he huffed, sitting back in his seat like an angry toddler. "Are you doing okay? With… you know…"

I sighed. "Do you want the truth or whatever will make you feel comfortable?"

"The truth."

"I'm shit but I'm getting through it. You don't need to worry."

He went silent, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he watched me. "I don't want to sound like a dick" he started, sitting forward again and leaving the angry toddler act behind, "but maybe you should hear them out. Meet up with them. They might have a lot more to say to you than you think."

My brows rose as I took in his words, the anger I'd been pushing down threatening to erupt. "You think I should hear them out?"

"I'm just saying that maybe?—"

"You think it's worth it, giving a fucking moment of my time to them? You think I should hear them out when they are the biggest goddamn triggers for me when it comes to drowning myself in the one fucking thing I can't have?" I snapped, my hands balling into fists. My nails dug into my palms, the pain searing and raw. "They are fucking nothing to me. Nothing . They are shit on the floor. They are worthless, horrible humans who were perfectly happy to abandon their barely thirteen-year-old son but seem more than pleased to be raising two more. I don't want them in the same state as me. Hell, the same country . "

Gray stared at me, his wide eyes and pursed lips only making it worse. "Cole?—"

The booming voice of the announcer came over the loudspeaker, cutting him off. "The next prize comes from Grayson Sparks, former NFL player and trainer of the UC Buffaloes!"

"Guess it's your time to shine, buddy," I said, the words biting and cold just as Bobby returned with our drinks.

Gray stood, hesitating for just a moment as he watched me, before heading to the stage.

"The fuck was that about?" Bobby asked, slotting in beside me and sliding my water across the fabric-draped table.

"Doesn't matter."

He watched me carefully, his finger tapping against the side of his glass. Maybe his hair did look a bit like mine but I had a fairly basic cut. It wasn't anything unusual. "You look like you need a drink," he said, the words hanging in the air, the hidden meaning known all too well to us both.

I dragged my tongue along the top row of my teeth, the burn in the back of my throat screaming.

"No," I said.