25. Cole

Chapter 25

Cole

I put the car into park after pulling back into Dana's driveway. This was our third date this week, and yet, I still felt like it wasn't going right. There was something I wasn't doing right. We'd barely been physical, hardly more than a few kisses and stilted make-out sessions, and yet I'd been needing more without landing in the end zone.

"I'm sorry," I sighed, pushing against my eyes with the bottoms of my palms. "I know I've been a nightmare to be around."

Dana huffed a sigh as she twisted in her seat, her hand gently coming up to rest on my shoulder. My cock jumped at even that small gesture but my brain could not follow suit. "You have not. You're just going through a lot."

"I can't fucking sleep," I rasped. "I can't do shit. I've barely gotten anything done for the soft launch party next week. I'm falling behind at work." I took in a shaky breath, forcing myself to calm down. I was a constant lit fuse, always fucking seconds away from exploding . I wasn't used to being this vulnerable with her, at least not since that night outside Flagstaff Spirits, the night I came so close to relapsing.

Her hand gently coaxed my own away from my face, her fingers lacing in mine. "Stay the night," she whispered, and I couldn't quite tell if it was an offer or a request.

"I can't."

Her lips pressed together and she nodded in understanding. "Do you want to see Drew?"

"Please."

We stepped out of the car in unison. I checked the time, it was nearing Drew's usual down-and-out-for-the-night hour. I didn't have long to spend with him but I'd take what I could. I needed his peace.

Inside, the nanny held him on her lap on the couch, a bottle shoved between his gums. His eyes were already fluttering closed, but the moment he saw both of us, he perked right up.

Dana relieved the nanny and plucked him from her lap, getting a brief rundown of the evening's events while she was out. Dana thanked her and she was soon out the door, leaving just the three of us in peace.

Fuck, I wanted to stay.

I sat down next to her on the rickety couch, the burning in my throat subsiding just a hair, and pulled Drew into my lap. His wide green eyes looked up at me, the biggest smile crossing his face. He didn't care that I was a mess. He didn't care that I was barely holding myself together. He just liked looking at me, being held by me, cuddling with me. I wished that was enough for everyone else.

Between the cushion and the side of the couch, a little book stuck out. I pulled it from the trenches as Dana leaned against me, holding up Drew's bottle as if he still cared about it. He was far too transfixed with the stubble on my cheeks, though.

It was a copy of Winnie the Pooh.

I turned him in my lap, letting him lean back against my stomach as I opened up the book in front of all of us, Dana's watchful eyes focusing in on it. "You want to read to him?"

"Yeah," I breathed.

She took a moment, mulling it over, before she snuggled in closer and nodded against my shoulder.

The words blended together, a cacophony of harmonious phrases from my own rough voice and giggles from Drew. The more I read, the sleepier he got, his eyes closing then opening, only to close again, fighting it. Dana listened quietly, only perking up the handful of times that Drew coughed or wiggled slightly, the worry between her brows evident as only a mother's can be.

The longer I stared at the words, the more they started to blend into shapes I didn't quite recognize. It took me longer than it should have to read through a children's book, and although I played it off with feigned exhaustion, it worried me. It felt like I was falling apart at the seams; if I couldn't do something I'd been able to reliably do since childhood, what the fuck was wrong with me? Why couldn't I just handle shit the way everyone else did?

And why did it have to be Winnie the Pooh, of all things?

I knew these stories like the back of my hand. Knew them in my bones, could recite them from memory. That was my saving grace when the words blended together, when they became nothing more than garbled images chewed up and spat out by a heffalump.

By the time I gently shut the book with one hand, my other arm around Dana's shoulders, Drew had lulled himself into a snotty sleep against my stomach. I watched him longer than I needed to, taking in every breath, every little snore. I almost wished I could lie there with him all night or even forever if it meant feeling that peace and calm, just the rise and fall of his little chest with his hand clinging onto the rubber giraffe.

Gently, Dana pulled herself out from under my arm and out of my grasp, careful not to move either of us. "I'll get his pacifier before he swallows that poor giraffe whole."

She disappeared around the corner, leaving me alone with her sleeping child. I stuck the book back in its hiding spot and rested one hand below Drew's bent, stubby legs, keeping him in place.

"Who are you?"

I met the eyes of Vee when I heard the words. Dragging my attention from him, I realized I'd almost forgotten she was staying with Dana… when the hell had she come in?

I cleared my throat as gently as I could so I wouldn't wake Drew. "Cole," I said, my voice still a little craggy. "Cole Pearson. We met a few weeks ago."

Her mouth opened around the sound of a silent ahh as she leaned forward onto the island that divided the kitchen from the living room. "The infamous Cole. Didn't realize you were the same guy."

What the fuck did that mean? Did Dana have other guys coming around?

"You're the rich one, right?" she asked, one eye closing in a wink as she laughed a little too loud for my liking. I glanced down at Drew to make sure he was still asleep.

"If you want to boil me down to that, then sure."

She looked off in the direction of Dana's room as she unwrapped a tiny piece of chocolate. "How'd you two meet, then? You must be awfully fuckin' special if you're keeping her away from her kid this much."

I grimaced as Drew shifted, his little body leaning a little too far to one side, but I caught him before he could fall and wake himself. "I wouldn't say I'm keeping her away from him," I grumbled, tucking my arm a little tighter into him. "We met through some mutual friends early last year."

"Last year, huh?" she said, her voice muffled by the chocolate as her brows shot up. A chuckle seeped its way out, her head shaking. "Figures."

"What?" I asked. I was growing tired of her already. I could see why Dana complained about the company so often, but I also knew that Vee was her saving grace when it came to watching Drew. Sure, she had the nanny, but that wasn't something she could afford twenty-four-seven, and she'd refused when I'd offered her bonuses for it.

Vee's eyes drifted to the sleeping baby sprawled on my stomach before inching their way back up to my face. "You ever thought about how similar you look?"

I blinked.

Similar? I couldn't help but look down at Drew. The ringing in my ears grew louder, cacophonous almost, as I stared at the faint, thin dark blonde hairs that had started sprouting from his head.

"His pacifier was under my bed." Dana came around the corner, a pacifier in one hand and a blanket slung over her shoulder, but I could barely fucking hear her. He wasn't mine—the chance was so small I'd already written it off when I first found out about him. Besides, Dana wouldn't keep that from me. That is, if she even knew for sure that he was. There were too many differences, like the shape of his nose and his plump little lips.

I'd be a liar if I said I didn't wish it was true, though.

"When did you get home?"

"A few minutes ago," Vee shrugged. "Y'all were so snuggled up you didn't even see me. You'd be fucked if a burglar came in, Dana."

"Don't joke about that," Dana huffed. She slid in beside me and carefully plucked the giraffe from Drew's mouth, thankfully without waking him, before replacing it with the pacifier. He didn't even notice.

"I should head off," I breathed, keeping my voice low enough that Vee wouldn't hear.

Dana's eyes met mine briefly, a little flash of something flickering in them before she nodded softly. "Okay."

With precision and ease, she wrapped the little blanket around Drew, her fingers grazing my abdomen over the layers of fabric. She plucked him from me and he didn't even flinch.

He was down and out in his bassinet within seconds, snoring away. I didn't care that I had six-month-old snot on my shirt, didn't care that I'd read one of my favorite, but most triggering, stories to the kid. It fell to the wayside when I watched her with him.

All of it.

I almost didn't want to leave, but deep down, I knew it was better if I did. I needed to get a handle on myself—alone. If I could do that by myself, it would be ten times easier with her by my side.

She walked me out the door, her sister mumbling something about fantasy football as she stared at her phone. We walked in silence to my car, the unspoken words hanging in the air like a lit fucking firecracker about to explode. I wanted her to come with me. I wanted to ask her if there was any chance he was mine. I wanted to know if I was keeping her from him more than I should be.

I wanted to know if I still deserved her.

"I'm sorry about tonight," I sighed, the breath of air forming a little cloud in front of my face in the cooling night air. The doors of my BMW unlocked automatically as I leaned against the side of it. "All of it."

She shook her head. "There's nothing to apologize for." Her hands wrapped around each of her arms as she huddled in just a little for extra warmth. "I just wish you could stay."

Taking the warm skin of her face into my hands, I pressed my lips to hers softly, just enough to touch. "Me too."

————

The entire drive home was one massive, horrible temptation.

Trying to concentrate on driving when liquor store after liquor store passed me by, when I knew that the two people I hated most were somewhere in town, when I couldn't stop the incessant thoughts that Vee had soured my head with. He did look a little like me . All of it was nearly impossible to shake. I could barely feel the tips of my fingers despite my heated steering wheel and just when I thought I'd have a moment of reprieve, my anxiety shot through the roof the moment the gates opened at the end of my driveway.

There was already a car there.

One I didn't recognize, one that from the looks of it was a high-end rental. A black Audi S7, decked out and capable of carrying four.

I almost turned around and drove back to Dana's.

Almost.

I should have.

My headlights illuminated the front of my garage as I turned with the driveway, a tall figure with his arms crossed coming into full focus.

I turned off the car.

I got out.

I slammed the door.

"Get the fuck off my property."

"Cole—"

"No," I snapped, the headlights cutting and giving me a moment of relief before the floodlights lit the cement. "You don't get to do this. You don't get to turn up out of the blue, venture onto my land, and insert yourself into my life."

"Son."

"I'm not your fucking son!" I took a step toward him, the ten feet between us feeling far too close, hoping he'd back away. He didn't. "You made that crystal clear the moment you sent me off to Aunt Kathy's."

"Do you have to do this?" my father asked. His graying hair swayed softly in the wind, loose and unkempt. The stubble on his cheeks was nearly the same level of gray, with little specks of black here and there, the color it used to be when I'd tugged on his beard as a kid.

"What?"

"Bring up the past like I don't remember it."

I blinked, almost lost for words. The chaste attitude, the callous way he spoke nearly sent me spiraling further than I already was. "Do you even want to be here?"

He didn't answer.

"Of course you don't," I scoffed. I hit the button in my pocket with a little too much anger, double-locking my car. "What, did Mom bribe you with an extra bottle of scotch? ‘Oh, honey, go make nice with Cole. He'd love a bit of closure, I'm sure . '"

"Don't act like I'm the one here with the problem," he said, and my blood fucking boiled.

"You think I didn't see that shit growing up?" I hissed. "You think I picked up a bottle on a whim? No, Conrad, I watched you. I learned from you. When things got hard, you pulled that Glenfiddich from the shelf. When I disappointed you for the millionth time that week, you poured yourself a glass."

His upper lip pulled back in disgust. "You could have made better choices."

"You could have been a fucking parent."

Silence hung in the air between, thick and accusatory. I tried to control my breathing, tried to calm myself down, but all I could think of was how much I needed a glass of anything and how much I wanted to wrap my fingers around my father's throat until his face turned blue.

"Leave," I hissed, my voice rough with bile and anger. " Now. "

It took twenty raspy breaths before he finally took a step toward his car.

Having enough faith that he'd leave and not look back, I raced up the front steps without a second thought. If I could just make it to the comfort of my bed without anything else, without another issue, I'd be fine. I could sleep it off and wake up a half-lit fuse in the morning as opposed to burnt embers and the sparking base of a bomb.

I slammed the door behind me and locked all three mechanisms before stepping through the grand foyer into the living room.

And into the arms of yet another problem.

Bobby sat back against the couch, an open bottle of vodka tucked between his legs and a glass of ice in his hand. Beside him, on the coffee table, was a second glass.

"Oh, fuck."

"Throw it out," I begged, my voice breaking. Fuck, I sound pathetic. "Please, Bobby, I can't deal with this right now."

He shook his head, the short hair looking so goddamn weird on him, but my eyes drew right back to the bottle. The quarter-empty bottle. "Not this time, man."

I couldn't move as he plucked the spare cup from the table and poured out two fingers' worth. His glass was already half full—this one wasn't for him.

"Come on."

The back of my throat burned. The backs of my eyes burned. This was too much for one day, for one person, for one barely recovering alcoholic. Temptation sizzled everywhere in my body. "Throw it out," I repeated, but the words felt like sand on my tongue. Pointless. Useless. A reflection of myself.

Bobby pushed the glass across the coffee table to the side closest to me. "Just this once."