34. Dana

Chapter 34

Dana

I stepped out of the elevator, a handful of documents tucked under my arm to deliver to Ben from my manager, Allison. I hated coming up here lately, hated the way I felt the need to look over my shoulder, to keep a constant eye out for him. I didn't know if it would happen, only that it could.

At the end of the hall, disheveled and meek, his hair a goddamn mess, Cole stood in front of the door to his office, desperately fishing in his pocket for his keys. I stood in place, my heart racing, watching as he glanced from side to side before shoving the key into the lock.

For a split second, right before he disappeared around the frame of the door, I could have sworn he spotted me. My breath caught, my heart raced, and the glint in the brief pass of green eyes nearly pulled me in.

I took a step toward his office before thinking better of it.

I had to fight to pull myself away, I knew I couldn't bend to it. A part of me loved him, I knew that much. I'd come to terms with it. But I couldn't handle all of it right now, not when I had someone who meant more to me than myself or Cole to watch after.

I just wished it didn't hurt so much.

I'd heard the rumors, how he'd randomly been in and out of work, that he'd been found passed out in his office, heard he'd been seen drinking at the bars. There were only so many things that could be exaggerations or lies, and if any of it was true, any of it, I wanted to cry for him. I wanted to hold him and tell him he'd be okay, wanted to take him to a meeting or help him find a new facility.

But I couldn't.

————

I didn't realize how much seeing Cole would throw me off for the rest of my shift.

My mind spiraled throughout my tours but I couldn't stop it. Couldn't stop thinking about whether I needed to quit, if I needed to go back to school for a degree, if I should stop trusting my gut and run upstairs to him. My future was more uncertain than ever, and most of it was my own damn fault. I'd built up an idea of it that wasn't stable for the last four months I'd been with him.

On top of that, I was operating on a level of shock and stress I'd never been under before. I had convinced myself that Cole would show up, demanding answers or visitation with his son since he'd likely figured it all out. But he hadn't. He hadn't called, he hadn't texted, he hadn't shown up at my door in a drunken fit. I wasn't sure how I should take any of it. Was he done too? Had he decided that I was right? Or could he just not be bothered to put in an ounce of effort?

I wanted to tell him about Bobby, he deserved that much. I'd mentioned it to Gray, but Gray said Cole had basically shut him out too, and I didn't know where to go from there short of showing up at his house. I couldn't imagine he'd entertain the idea of it, considering how much I'd heard of the infamous Bobby who was helping him through his journey of recovery.

I scoffed. If he only knew what a shit Bobby truly was.

No. It was best we stayed away from each other, continued to keep the distance between us and go on with our lives. If he wanted to see Drew when he was older… ugh. I just didn't know.

I slipped into the vest room and hung mine on the wall. I didn't have a tour first thing tomorrow morning so no need to show up in it. I grabbed my bag and double-checked I had a charger with me this time before clocking out on the computer, relief already beginning to flood me knowing I'd be out of the building in minutes, away from the possibility of running into him.

But things never seem to go the way I want them to.

"Dana?"

I swallowed, my spine going rigid as I turned from the computer. Cole stood in the doorway, his hair too long, his face too scruffy. The bags under his eyes were massive, his face gaunt. His shirt buttons were off, causing the fabric to stretch and bunch in various places.

He'd somehow managed the tie.

He shut the door behind him, enclosing us in the small room alone. I could smell him across the short distance, could smell the liquor emanating from every pore.

"Please don't do this," I breathed, taking a step back and nearly knocking the monitor from the desk as I ran into it.

"I need to talk to you," he said, and fuck , the words felt so hollow it made my chest ache. His cheeks were reddened, his eyes bloodshot. I hated this. I hated it so much I wanted to fucking disappear into the floor.

"I can't do this with you." I held my bag to my chest, hoping somehow it would make me feel better with something between us. Maybe it would stop me from doing what I wanted, which was to make him feel better. I wanted to hold him.

His lips pursed together, the shine in his eyes intensifying before he steeled his jaw. Please don't cry. "I want to see my son."

Fuck.

The backs of my eyes burned. There wasn't any use in pretending anymore. Lottie had let the cat out of the bag, and I couldn't lie to him, couldn't handle it. It wasn't the right way for it to come out. The right way would have been months ago, and I should have done it then. But wishing for a time machine wouldn't get me anywhere.

"No," I croaked. Every piece of my heart fucking shattered as I watched him crumple, the shards falling in my chest and cementing their sharp sides in my stomach, churning it and making me want to vomit. "Not like this, Cole."

His lower lip quivered in the same way Drew's did, his shoulders sagging. "I'm sorry," he said quickly, covering his mouth and taking a step back toward the door. I could hear the tremble in his voice. "I didn't, I didn't mean for any of this to happen, baby. I don't understand how I got here, how any of this fucking happened." He sucked in air, his chest heaving, hyperventilation threatening to kick in. "It's all blowing up in my face."

I bit down on my lip, fighting back the tears. There was a part of me that just wanted to pull him in, lock the door, and hide with him for however long he needed. That same part of me told me to tell him about Bobby, and she was winning. "Bobby came by the other day," I breathed, taking a step toward him, flinching at the scent of whiskey on his breath. Gently, slowly, I rested a hand on his cheek. "Look, I… I know this won't be easy to hear, but he said a lot of shit and I don't want you to freak out."

Wide green eyes met mine, a hint of moisture in the inner corners.

"I know he drove you to it," I said, fingering a lock of dark blonde hair out of his face, that same face I saw reflected in Drew more and more each day. "He pushed you and pushed you, then he celebrated when you caved. This is on him."

He blinked, his jaw working, and we stood in silence for far too long before he pulled away from my touch.

No. Come on. Please.

"You're lying," he said, his voice sounding far different than before. There was nothing there, nothing behind it, no quiver to his tone, no hint of affection. "He may be insane and he may be annoying, but he wouldn't do that."

"Cole—"

"Don't." He took a deep breath in through his nose. "I shouldn't have come in here."

I watched as he turned the handle, felt the part of me that was fighting for this slowly die. Fine. If he didn't want to listen to me, if he didn't want to hear the truth, then my gut was right. "If you leave, we're done," I said, the words hurting even as I spoke them.

He hesitated. "Don't put that on me, Dana," he sighed, pushing the door open and stepping out into the hallway. "Besides, you already made it clear we were done at the hospital."

But I don't want us to be done.

He waited for a moment as I tried to find the right words to say, but the angry part of me was flaring, and I didn't want to speak because I knew she'd spew flames the moment I tried. He stood there, and I knew if he wouldn't accept what I'd said, if he couldn't accept it then he couldn't change, which meant he couldn't get better.

I swallowed as I stepped past him out of the room and into the sunny hallway, my emotions firing on all cylinders, confusing me and making me feel sick. "If you're not willing to listen to me then you're not willing to change," I said. His brows rose as he slammed the door behind us, making me jump.

"I'm not going to let you accuse someone I care about, someone who's going through the exact same thing I am, of being a raging, horrible monster," he snapped. He tugged at his shirt, trying to rid it of wrinkles, failing miserably as he realized none of the buttons were right.

"It's not an accusation, it's a fact."

"It's bullshit, is what it is. Just say you want to hurt me and be done with it," he hissed, coming in a little too close, a little too angry. I backed up, watching as the realization of his misstep sunk into him, watching as his eyes widened and the confused, inebriated Cole kicked back in. "I'm sorry. I?—"

"No. Nope. Not doing it, Cole," I said, stepping back toward the double doors that lead to freedom. Freedom from here, from this, from him. I was tired of the tears that were already streaking down my face, tired of the fight I knew I'd never win. "I'm done."

————

I sat in the driver's seat, baking in the low winter sun as I idled in my driveway. Beside me was a car I recognized too well, one I'd avoided but decided I wouldn't lose my mind entirely over. I'd dealt with enough today. Couldn't I just have one fucking moment of peace?

Deciding it was better to get it over with so I could try to relax and cry alone, I opened the creaking driver's side door to the Camry and stepped up to my house. The snow was only just starting to fall as I pushed the front door open, doing my best to breathe calmly as my father sat on the floor next to my son.

I'd never been as angry at Dad as I was with Mom. He was guilty by association, yes, but he wasn't the one that ruined my childhood. He was the highlight of it, other than my sister. But I didn't understand why he was here.

"I'll go if you want," he said, his wrinkled hands raising as he took me in. I wasn't used to seeing this older version of him yet. The gray in his hair was harsher, his goatee shorter, his mustache thinner. He'd lost weight since I'd last seen him, and that was the biggest hurdle to come to terms with.

"Why are you here?"

"The nanny called me. She had a family emergency and you weren't answering," he said.

I did have a few missed calls from her but she'd followed them up with a text message saying, "Sorted!" so I didn't think anything of it. "How did she get your number?"

"Well, she called Veronica first, and she directed her to me," he said sheepishly, pushing himself up from the carpet with a grunt. "I figured you wouldn't want Drew at our house so I came here."

I sighed and shut the door behind me, dropping my bag and keys on the little table beside it. "It's fine. You can stay."

"Are you?—"

"Don't question me, Dad. I've had a hard day, and if I say you can stay, you can." I plucked Drew from his mat on the floor and tucked him into my chest as I collapsed on the couch. He giggled and wrapped his arms around my neck, trying to kick his way up my abdomen to get closer to me.

"Do you… want to talk about it?" Dad offered. He stepped behind the kitchen island that divided it from the living room, opening cabinet after cabinet until finding a kettle and pulling it out.

"You know what?" I laughed, the chaos driving me, Drew's little face cheering me up as he tried and failed to plant a kiss on my cheek. "Sure. You're probably the only one that could actually understand."

The candidness with which I spoke surprised even me. I told him everything as he sunk onto the couch beside me, two cups of peppermint tea in his hands. I told him about how Cole and I had started, how I'd met him at Lottie's as her father was dying, how we'd had an incredible time until that horrible night, when I'd left in a fit of rage, promising myself I wouldn't see him again. I told him about the turmoil I'd gone through when I'd found out I was pregnant, how I cried thinking about how the man who fathered him was a fucking dick, how I hadn't put the pieces together. I told him about my job and how Cole had returned, that I'd given him a second chance purely because of Drew. The highs of it, the lows of it, and everything in between.

Dad listened, really listened, for the first time in years. He let me talk about all of it, holding Drew when I needed a moment to calm myself. He offered up his own anecdotes, his struggles in trying to get mom back to rehab, how he would kick himself every time she fucked up with us because he knew damn well we'd remember it. He talked to me about how difficult it was loving someone with alcoholism, how hard it was to watch them fall when he knew she didn't want to.

"It's not something that's fixed once and for all when you go to rehab," he explained, his hand on my shoulder, his brown-eyed gaze boring a hole in my soul. For once, I didn't flinch. "It's… sweetie, it's a lifetime. It's always there. Your mother, she's been sober for six years, and although it gets easier, the fight is always going on. For both of us."

"I remember every time she stumbled," I admitted, pulling Drew back from my father's lap and watching as he desperately tried to reach for the giraffe on the coffee table. I handed it to him. "Every time she forgot something, every time she made our lives a living hell. I don't want Drew to have to go through that."

His lips pursed. "I understand that too," he sighed. "I thought about leaving your mother many times, for the sake of you and Vee. The possibility that this, what we have now, would happen. It haunted me. Sometimes I wish I'd done it. But I couldn't. I wasn't half the person you are, Dana. I wasn't strong enough for that."

"What do you mean?"

"I love your mother with every fiber of my being. I have since the moment I met her. I wasn't sure I'd be able to function without her, at least not enough to bring up two hell-raising daughters on my own," he laughed. "Maybe I was selfish for not trying. But your mother… she's my person, sweetie. I didn't think I could handle life alone, and I chose to fight it with her so I wouldn't have to."

————

By the time Dad left, the sun had long since set, the street lights kicking on and bouncing off the shimmering snow. I shut the door behind him, the only sound left in the house that of Drew's little snores from his bassinet on the other side of the living room. His breaths were back to normal, finally.

I was alone, for better or for worse.

I'd made my decision.

I leaned against the broken wood of my door. Everything I'd shoved down since I left work came bubbling up, every emotion, every tear, every drop of anger. I tried to stuff it down again, tried to keep myself from waking Drew, but the broken sobs took hold.

I slid down the door, burying my face in my knees, containing the sounds as best I could to keep him from waking. This was for the best. It had to be. But I felt like I was making the biggest, worst decision of my entire life.