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31. Cole

Chapter 31

Cole

I knew the moment I locked eyes with Dana.

I couldn't run from it anymore.

Every part of me stilled despite Drew's laughter. Every part of me locked up like a stone, falling from way too high, seconds from shattering on the pavement.

A nurse slid past Dana, barely moving her. "We need to do an X-ray on little Andrew to check on the pneumonia, see if it is improving. Do you two mind stepping out for a moment?" she asked me, and I could see the anger in Dana that they asked me instead of her.

"That's up to his mother," I said, nodding toward Dana as I carefully climbed off the bed.

I made my way to her side, already knowing where this was going, before excusing myself to the hallway. A sheen of sweat coated my skin in an instant, and the moment Dana mumbled that's fine to the nurse and shut the door behind her, I wanted to run.

But I didn't. For her, I didn't.

She swallowed as she took a step toward me, backing me further into the quiet recess at the end of the hall. Her chin held high, her shoulders back, she looked as if she was preparing herself for a war she didn't want.

"Where were you?" she asked, and the words felt less like venom and more like ice as they crawled through me. "When you left, where were you?"

This wasn't the right time. Not when Drew was still sick, not with her parents still somewhere nearby. It was all wrong.

Half-truths. "Colchester Ski Resort," I said, the words falling from me too quickly, too suddenly.

"You were skiing?"

"I was hiding," I admitted.

She swallowed again, her confidence solidified. "You've been drinking."

And there it was. My worst fucking nightmare.

"Cole."

"I'd tell you if I had." Wrong fucking answer, idiot. You'll have to fess up eventually. "I wasn't."

"Please don't lie to me right now," she said, and my chest fucking ached. Little tears, leftover from when she'd entered the room, dripped from the corners of her eyes.

I need a drink .

I blinked, and I was angry.

When did I become angry?

"I need the truth," she begged, and I fucking snapped.

"The truth?" I scoffed. I leaned in a little closer, and if I'd had a drink in the last forty-eight hours, she would have smelled it. "Don't I deserve the truth as well?"

Her brows knitted together as she leaned back. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Is he or is he not my son?"

Her eyes blew wide as she took a step back, the question catching both of us off guard. I couldn't remember when I'd concluded that I more than likely was Drew's dad. I'd seen his paperwork, seen the absent information under father. But it was more of a feeling.

"Don't talk to me about the truth," I continued, pulling myself from her personal space.

"You didn't even give me a chance to answer."

"I didn't need to."

"He isn't," she said, and my world came to a halt. I studied her, watched every movement of her face, but it didn't sit right. "Why would you think that?"

"The timing. He looks like me. He's six months old tomorrow, correct? Let's rewind fifteen months," I spat, pushing my fingers through my overgrown hair to give them something to focus on. "That puts us… damn, almost exactly to the fucking day I took you out for the first time."

"We didn't have sex that night," she gulped, but the little step back she took made me think otherwise.

"We did."

She pivoted and my stomach sank further. "The timeline is murky but there were other people I was seeing then."

"Other people you were fucking?" I asked, and although she hesitated, she nodded. I raked my teeth over my bottom lip, my head swimming, her denial and resistance only confusing me more. Her body language said I'd called

her out, but I wanted to trust her, wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt that she wouldn't keep that from me. "I wasn't drinking," I added.

And so we went around again.

Back and forth, a blame game that never fucking ended. I couldn't tell her I'd relapsed—I knew that for certain and I hated myself for it. I had to wait until she was in the right headspace to hear that, and now wasn't the goddamn time to deal with this shit. It broke my heart to keep it from her, to know that she knew and not give her that truth in return, but the part of me that wanted to hide was screaming louder than the part of me that wanted her comfort.

And for once, it felt like it was right.

"Please, just say it, Cole," she snapped, one single finger jabbing into my chest.

"I have nothing to say."

She scoffed and pushed harder, her nail nearly breaking through my unwashed t-shirt as it pressed against my skin. "You're just like my mother. You know that?" she seethed, taking a step toward me and forcing me back toward the window at the end of the hall. "She was a recovering alcoholic, too. But you know what she did? She caved. Time and time again, she couldn't help herself. She ruined my fucking life."

The burn itched in the back of my throat. "Dana."

"I never, ever, in my wildest dreams thought I'd fall for a shit like her," she fumed, but the words felt too fueled with emotion to sting like she wanted them to. She choked on them, fresh tears forming, and although it fucking hurt, I just wanted to wipe them away. "I never wanted this for myself. And I certainly don't want it for my son."

I swallowed, watching the way her lips formed around the words she spoke. Why did I still want to hold her in the midst of this? Why did I just want to make it go away? I didn't have an answer for myself, so instead, I bridged the gap, reaching across the distance between us and brushing my fingers against her cheek. So damp. "If you knew when you met me, would you take it back? All of it?" I asked, my voice barely more than a whisper.

Her eyes slammed shut as she turned away from my touch, another tear breaking free.

"Dana," I pressed.

"Maybe," she whispered.

The longer we stood there, the wider the gap between us grew and the tenser our silence became. I just wanted this to be over, wanted us to stop fighting, but it felt like we weren't getting anywhere. I wasn't going to budge, and neither was she.

"I want you to leave," she rasped and everything came crashing down.

"I'm not leaving," I stated, removing my hand and taking a step back. I wanted to throw up, wanted to cry, wanted to run but not away. I wanted to run to Drew. "Not with Drew still needing this much medical attention. I can't."

"If you won't tell me what's going on, then I can't have you near him." Her fingers wrapped around her biceps, hugging herself tightly. "I just can't."

I can't have you near him.

"I'm not leaving him, Dana!" The words boomed around the walls of the hallway. I didn't realize how loud I'd spoken, but I couldn't take it back now. Whether he was mine or not, I felt too attached to him to leave him like this. "I can't, I won't, it's out of the fucking question."

"Please don't make me call security."

Security? Could she, would she even ? —

"Guys, guys, what's going on?" Lottie's voice carried down the hall as the nurses wheeled the X-ray machine from Drew's room. She caught up, glancing in before walking past.

"I don't want him here anymore," Dana said, taking a step back until she was side by side with our friend.

Lottie looked between us, her face a mixture of shock and confusion. "Why?"

Dana's eyes met mine briefly as she squeezed her arms. Behind them were storms of anger and disgust, swirling doubts, and far too much else for me to comprehend without hurting myself more. "I don't want a drunk around my son," she said, and before I could even form a rebuttal, she turned and began walking back to Drew's room.

I stood there for so long, locked and judged and embarrassed beyond belief, that I swore I could feel the dust collecting in my hair.

Fine. If she wanted me gone, if she wanted me out of her life and away from her son, I would do that. I would find it in me to drown her out, no matter how much it hurt.

————

"Cole! Cole, wait, wait, wait!"

A small hand wrapped around my wrist and pulled, spinning me two steps from my car. Lottie stood there, catching her breath, her light blue eyes wide and desperate.

"Come back. Please."

I shook her hand from me and reached into my pocket for my keys. "She doesn't want me there."

"You don't understand," Lottie urged, shifting and jumping until she stood between me and my BMW. "She'd just seen her mom downstairs. This has been a lot for her, and with her mom on top of it, she snapped, okay? She wants you there. Believe me, Cole, you need to be there with her. It's not what you think. She told me what she said to you?—"

"It doesn't matter, Lots," I snapped, gently pushing her out of the way so I could open my door. I watched her over the top of it, watched the way her face fell as she realized she wasn't stopping me. "He's not my kid, she said so herself. He's hers, and she gets to decide who sees him and who doesn't. If she doesn't want a drunk around him, then you know what? She's right. I should go."

Her lips formed a thin line as her hand came to rest on top of mine, holding the door open. She looked over her shoulder, the late autumn wind whipping through the parking garage and tugging at her clothes, before dragging her gaze back to me. "You both have secrets," she breathed, the words hanging in the air.

They felt too charged, like there was more behind them.

"And I think you're both lying."

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