4. Dana

Chapter 4

Dana

M y tendons felt like they were on fire. Every step, every slam of my feet onto the cement felt like I was going to snap like a twig.

Drew's little whimpers in his stroller told me I was coming up on time to call the run, but I didn't feel like I was ready. I still hadn't run away the incessant thoughts about Cole. I hadn't dispersed the memories, and it almost felt like to stop would be to let it all flood back in.

I wanted to quit my job. The temptation was nagging at me, scratching at the back of my mind like an incessant cat. Run away and avoid him for as long as I could. But the money was too good, and as much as I loved Lottie and knew I could ask her for anything, I didn't want to have to. Crawling back to her and asking for a pay raise felt like forfeiting the life I was trying to build for me and my son.

But Cole.

Fucking Cole.

I couldn't stop the onslaught of the memories from that night.

————

The weight of him on top of me had felt like a warmth I didn't know I needed. His nose pressed against my neck, his lips flush with my skin. I wasn't sure where he'd gone—if he was lost in his thoughts, if he was just content, or if he had fallen asleep on me. Whatever it was, it didn't bother me.

I'd dragged my nails across his bare back, over the ripples of muscle and bone, up to the base of his neck. Something about it felt so easy, so natural, in a way I hadn't exactly experienced before.

We hadn't seen each other in months. That first date had gone amazingly, but we were both busy, and I had a million things to help Lottie with after her father passed and a thousand things to do in my own life before I could genuinely think about a relationship. But when Lottie told me she'd invited him to the wedding… well, I didn't stand a chance. Might as well embrace it, I'd told myself.

The inevitability of Lottie's irritation with me for seeing him was a contributing factor in my hesitation, as well. We'd grown so close while we were in Hawaii. I'd been there on a work deal, learning the ropes with the lead stable hand, and she'd come in a month after me. We'd clicked instantly, even to the point of her insisting on hiring me when she landed the job managing the breeding side of her future husband's business. But Cole was her late father's client, and after the chaos they'd gone through with losing him, and the whispers of infidelity and womanizing tendencies being passed down to her from her dad, I knew she'd be mad at me. But Cole had been right—ultimately, she'd ended up with the same sort of person.

"Cole," I'd said softly, my impatience for more getting the better of me.

"Hmm?"

"Are you going to… you know," I'd laughed. I looked up at him, my eyes meeting the swirling seas of his. "You're not doing anything."

"I'm just taking you in," he'd said, a little smirk spreading across his lips. "And imagining all the ways I'm going to make you scream."

I'd felt my cheeks flush as I lifted my hips just a little. Anything for friction, anything for attention in the place I needed it most. I already knew he could deliver; he'd worked his magic with his hands on the first date.

A shift had happened in him then. His lips met mine again, igniting a fire in my gut that traveled south and pooled into my panties. The way his hands moved was almost carnal as he quickly and deftly unlatched my bra, pulling it off my chest in one quick motion and leaving me bare. The cool air only briefly kissed against my skin before his chest was pressed to mine, the small tuft of hair rubbing against my nipples. I'd moaned into his mouth.

His hands wandered lower at the same time as mine. I found his belt as he found the band of my underwear, his fingers teasing the hemline and threatening to pull them down. I wanted him to. God, I fucking wanted him.

I'd lifted my hips, giving him clearance to tug them over my ass, and soon those were gone too. The pads of his fingers had slid between my parted thighs, coating themselves in what he'd ignited, and before I could even think straight they were inside of me.

"Oh my god," I'd gulped, barely able to form a coherent thought as he moved inside of me so perfectly. He curled his fingers, flexed them, fucked me with them as his thumb thrummed precisely against my clit. I'd lost track of my hands—shit, what were they doing?—and instead, found them covering my mouth, my eyes, pulling at my hair. He'd had his fingers in me no more than a minute before I felt my need for release building.

"So fucking eager for me," he'd muttered, his free hand tugging at his belt and slinging it off. "And so goddamn pretty when you get so flustered. Tell me, Dana, does this feel good? Is this what you wanted?"

"Fuck, yes," I'd cried. My back began to arch, my hands fisting into the sheets. Why was this so easy? Why was I so comfortable? Nine times out of ten, I was lucky if I came once with a man, but that, that time with him was so different…

My release had ripped through me, nearly splitting me in half as I shook and clenched onto his hand. He'd dragged me through it, forcing me through every ripple of excruciating pleasure as if it fueled him, and by the time I'd come back down from whatever plane of existence I'd ascended to, his slacks were out of sight and all that stood between us was an inch of air.

I could still feel the gulp I'd made.

He was big. Bigger than any man I'd ever been with before. It was almost comical how well-endowed he was in comparison to the other men I'd been with. I wondered if he tanned naked, it was warm in color like the rest of his skin, but deeper at the tip with a hint of reds and purples as it dripped precum. Little veins crept up the edges, the base neatly trimmed and groomed, but that fucking girth…

"Like what you see?" He'd laughed, his irises blowing so wide I could barely see the ring of green around them. I'd nodded. "I'm going to fucking ruin you, baby."

His head had pressed up against my entrance, steady yet a little demanding. He'd blinked, his vision lost for a moment, roaming across my bare body beneath him. But then his hands had wrapped around my hips and pulled me onto him, sinking into me far too easily for his size, splitting me in two.

I swear I saw goddamn stars that night.

He'd stayed true to his words. He did ruin me, in too many ways to count. I've never been fucked like that since, never experienced the hours of desperation and gluttony we shared. I drank him in as if I was dying of thirst, savoring every fucking second of it. Release after release, too many to count. Soon after, my head was swimming with more than just the lingering effects of alcohol, something stronger, something different between us. It was as if neither of us wanted it to end.

I'd had plenty of one-night stands in my day. But none of them, absolutely none, had come anywhere close to that night with him.

But when I woke that morning in cold sheets and a quiet room, everything came slamming down at once. I wish I'd known then that when he promised to ruin me, it hadn't ended with just the sex. I had been sore everywhere, especially between my legs, in that way that only felt satisfying the next day. But I was alone. And that wasn't so satisfying.

I'd told myself he was just making breakfast, or coffee, or doing his morning routine, whatever that entailed. But each passing second had felt more and more worrying. I didn't know if he was even still in the apartment. He could have slipped out in the night, perhaps not feeling a single thing I did during it all.

I'd checked my phone. Twenty percent battery. Eight in the morning.

I'd slipped from the sheets, shrugged on his button-up from the night before, and stepped out of the dull, lifeless bedroom. At night, illuminated by the glow of the streetlights, it hadn't seemed so empty. But in the daylight I noticed there was nothing on the walls, barely any furniture, and not a single touch of it looking like it was lived in properly.

The hallway was much the same. Wooden floors gave way to new but stained carpet. Cole was wealthy—I knew that much—so I couldn't help but wonder why he'd live in a place like that.

I'd stepped through the opening at the end of the hall into a kitchen I hadn't seen until then. He sat at the table, naked, save for a pair of boxers, a glass in his fist and a bottle of whiskey I didn't recognize. Behind him, littered across the countertops, were old liquor bottles and varying cans of beer.

What… the… fuck.

"Cole?"

I'd tried to make sense of what I saw. Maybe, just maybe, he hadn't gone to sleep last night — maybe what we'd done had kept him up, and he'd kept his own little party going into the early hours, losing track of time. I didn't like the way it sat in my gut regardless— I knew the road this led down. Knew it far too well, grew up surrounded by it, and then, when I'd finally thought I could give myself time and get to know someone, someone I felt like I had a deeper connection with than I originally intended…

"Are you… still drinking? Did you not go to bed?" I'd asked, taking a step toward him hesitantly.

He abruptly stood up and moved towards me as if he were dancing, probably trying to hide his shakiness on his feet. "No, I went to sleep with you. It's fine."

I couldn't stop myself from retreating, from taking a step back from what was unfolding in front of me. He'd laughed. I was not amused. "It's eight in the morning, Cole. Why the fuck are you drinking?"

He waved a solitary finger in front of my face. "It's just one."

"You don't sound like you've only had one," I breathed. I clutched the bottom of the button-up nervously. I hadn't imagined that the way I'd felt hours before would become Pompeii so quickly, but there I was.

He'd shrugged, and it only made me angrier. His face had crumpled in on itself for a split second before he'd looked back up at me.

"How many glasses, Cole?" I'd asked, desperately trying to sound calm as I reached for the bottle and took it in my hand. Some kind of silvery material made a raised emblem of an antlered deer across the front of it, and the label read The Dalmore, 2007 Vintage Highland Single Malt Scotch Whiskey, 46%. It was strong, and it looked fucking expensive.

Cole's hand grasped my shirt and pulled me toward him. "Shh, don't worry about it," he'd grinned. He stared at me almost longingly, and if it wasn't for what was playing out, that look would have done things to me that I wouldn't be proud of.

I'd placed my hand on his cheek, pushed the short strands of dark blonde hair out of his face. But god, the knot in my stomach telling me to run, to disappear before he could become another presence in my life that only disappointed me, was strong.

"Fuck, you look so good in my shirt," he'd rasped, his eyes raking over my frame the way they had last night. But it didn't feel the same, didn't feel like two people meshing together too well — this was not the Cole from last night.

"You could have made yourself a coffee, you know?" I didn't know what else to say.

He curled his hand around the back of my neck in a way that would have made me fall fucking lifeless in his arms the night before. "It's never too early to pick up where we left off last night. Come on, join me. Hair of the dog, they say."

He was grinning and it was kind of cute.

But the sirens in my head made me freeze. "I think we've had enough 'dog' for a while, don't you?" I'd pulled away from him and he shrugged and glanced over at the bottle on the kitchen table.

I turned from him and headed toward the bedroom, my feet going from sticky linoleum back to carpet. Strewn all around the room on the floor were my dress, my shoes, my underwear, along with my handbag, proof that the previous night hadn't been my imagination. I frantically got dressed and went back to the kitchen.

"I have to go," I'd breathed, lifting my hands in surrender as I stepped back. "I have to get out of here."

"Why?" Cole had asked, his brows coming together as he watched me stand there, disappointed and far more confused than he was. He'd taken the bottle from the table as he took a step toward me, and I moved two steps back.

"Don't," I'd said. "Just don't, Cole."

"Do you hate me?" he'd asked.

"This is bad, Cole. Really bad. I need you to understand that," I'd said, my hand sweeping beneath my hair to free it from my dress.

"Not into bad boys?" he'd asked, snorting at his own joke.

"This isn't bad boy behavior."

His eyes had turned hard as I slid my heels on, the rejection switching right on. "Fine. Then this fling is over and I'll continue the party without you."

I'd stiffened my jaw and pushed past him, the backs of my eyes burning. It hadn't felt like a fling, like a one or two night stand like he was implying, but if that's what he wanted to pretend that it was, then fine. "I'm going home," I'd said, but the words had come out croaky through the knot in my throat.

I'd held back the tears as I blindly found the exit of his apartment with no help from him, shouting out to him to not bother calling me. I'd held them back as I descended the stairs and called for a taxi. I'd held them back the entire ride home, looking a mess and doing the walk of goddamn shame.

But in the safety of my house with no one else around to see me, I'd let myself feel everything.

————

My knees gave out from under me. I gripped the stroller's handle as my right shin and kneecap hit the cement, a bright bloom of acidic pain lancing out from under my leggings. Drew's seat tipped back—he didn't weigh nearly enough to counteract my stumble—and as he started to kick and cry from the sudden shift in his world, the pain dissipated. He could cry for me.

I picked myself up from the ground and clocked a bench about ten feet ahead. Pushing Drew and limping my way to it, I collapsed onto the cold decrepit wood and caught my breath.

Drew's little whimpers and cries had a pull on me that I had never thought possible. Every time he cried, a pit formed in my stomach, an ache to soothe and calm him at all costs. I wasn't sure what I thought motherhood would be like, but there were parts of it that surprised me nearly every day.

I scooped him from his stroller, passing a quick glance at my knee as I bent over. My leggings had torn, the skin beneath raw and bleeding, but I would deal with that later. Instead, I leaned back with his little body in my arms, rocking him gently enough so that he calmed and my body didn't protest too hard.

It was strange looking down at him and seeing his plump little face, the tiny bit of blonde hair that ghosted his head, the little specks of blues, greens, and browns in his eyes. He'd changed so much in the three months since he'd been born. No longer was he this intensely fragile, wrinkly little infant. Now he was an intensely fragile chubby baby.

And god dammit, I loved him.

The more I watched him settle in my arms, the more it cemented in my mind that I couldn't quit my job. It worked too well for both of us when Cole wasn't interrupting my shift schedule by making a surprise appearance. As much as I loved my job at the Harris Ranch, this one paid so well and was understanding when it came to childcare duties.

I knew Lottie would have gone above and beyond to make the ranch worth it as well. But I couldn't lean on her generosity. There was only so much she could do anyway. Being with the horses meant being there at the crack of dawn and doing that with a baby on my hip seemed almost impossible. I could have been moved to admin, but again, I needed to figure out my own path and my own way instead of relying on Lottie's help to make things work.

Plus, I'd barely given the brewery a chance. I'd only been there a couple of months before my water broke mid-tour, and after my almost two-month long maternity break, I'd come back before I was needed to make ends meet. I couldn't just abandon it after only working there for about three months total.

I had to make it work. I had to do this myself—for Drew, for both of us. No matter what.

————

A familiar head of wavy deep brown hair was looking in my front window as I jogged up to the house, my right knee screaming at me.

With her hands cupped around her eyes and her face pressed against the glass, I couldn't help but chuckle under my breath. If she'd just called me instead of appearing out of the blue I would've just told her I was out, maybe then I wouldn't have arrived home to find a "peeping Veronica" at my windows.

As silently as I could, I pushed Drew's stroller with his sleeping body up the little hill of my driveway. "It's a bit creepy to be looking in someone's windows, Vee."

She jumped, her tanned, freckled face meeting mine with a hint of blush on her cheeks. "I thought you were dead!"

My sister could be dramatic, to say the least. Always expecting the worst-case scenario. I was shocked she hadn't overturned all of the rocks in front of my porch searching for a hidden key.

It was in the little wooden mallard, she would've never found it anyway.

"And you didn't think to call first?" I snorted. I picked up the little mallard and flipped it over, plucking the key out of its belly and giving her a wink. I hated taking my keys with me on runs. "I'm sure if I was dead, you would've heard Drew screaming his little head off."

"Or giggling up a storm," Veronica countered, side-eyeing my child as if he were the spawn of the devil.

I shoved the key in the lock and opened up the door before replacing the spare in its ducky home. "For the last time, Vee, he's not the anti-Christ."

She followed me inside, the screen door slamming behind her and nearly falling off its hinges. For a rental, it wasn't the worst place imaginable, but it wasn't exactly very well-looked after by previous tenants. Or me. I had bigger things to worry about.

"Sorry it's a mess," I sighed. She hadn't visited me in about two months. The last time she swung by was when she was visiting our parents, and thankfully, she hadn't ended up at my house. We'd met up at the park instead and then she was off again. She lived out in Miami the majority of the time, but she was always bouncing from place to place. I hoped she wouldn't judge my home and had spent time in worse. "It's a bit hard to keep on top of everything while taking care of Drew."

"Hmm. I'll have to work on that," she mumbled, collapsing onto the sofa in a heap. "What happened to your leg?"

I glanced down at the open wound poking out of my leggings. Shit, it's swelling. "Tripped on my jog. Just need to wash it out."

"Looks nasty."

"Thanks," I deadpanned. I glanced down at Drew as he drooled over his little white shirt, his eyes practically glued shut. I knew I needed to move him to the bassinet, but god, I didn't want him to wake up and kick off. "Are you visiting Mom and Dad?"

She blinked up at me. The dull, ugly brown of my sofa almost made her seem less lifelike than she normally did. "No. I came to help."

"What?"

"You said you were struggling to juggle work and Drew and that the nanny wasn't always available. I came to help you out."

Did I tell her that?

"Maybe he'll be less, uh, evil when he's not on FaceTime," she said, glancing at him warily.

"He's asleep, Vee. He's not going to start babbling demon summons."

My sister didn't know the first thing about looking after children. She had none of her own and often avoided them as much as she could, though, to be fair, I was the same way before I found out I was pregnant. Maybe it wouldn't be so awful if she double-teamed it with the nanny the first few times.

Though I did have a worrying suspicion she'd try to have him exorcized behind my back.

"So where am I staying?"

I snapped my gaze to her quickly. "What?"

"Mom and Dad said I couldn't stay with them."

"Jesus," I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose between my eyes. Her need to insert herself without asking permission beforehand was something she'd carried with her since adolescence. The number of times she'd weaseled herself into my sleepovers and parties sat heavily on my mind. "Well, I've got a spare room but I don't have a bed?—"

"That's fine. I'll buy a bed," she grinned as she cut me off. "I can sleep with you tonight and then tomorrow morning I'll have one delivered. Problem solved."

Problem solved. More like a problem created.

The stinging in my knee throbbed. "Fine. Whatever."