Chapter 28

CHAPTER 28

When I wake up from the best sleep of my life, my hands are resting on hot skin, my head is on Cole's bare chest, and his wide arms are holding me there. From my vantage point, all I see is sun-kissed skin and muscles. He went to bed in a t-shirt, what happened between now and then?

"You're hot in bed," he whispers, his eyes still closed.

"You're hot in bed," I murmur back, my head rising and falling with his breath.

"Guess I'll sleep shirtless from now on." His finger traces a lazy "S" across my shoulder blade, making me shiver against him. "Or we could get those cooling sheets for our bed."

His chest suddenly stops moving. I roll onto my stomach to face him. His eyes fly open and widen as they meet mine, like he's finally realizing what he just said out loud.

What is happening?

The alarm goes off and now I'm wide awake, shooting out of bed.

I run around the room making the excuse of packing a few things for the weekend, and dash to the bathroom to change into joggers and a t-shirt. But really, I'm avoiding Cole, avoiding the thought of our bed. There will be no our bed.

Last night, it was supremely comforting to fall into bed together, but when we're awake and looking into each other's eyes over the plane of Cole's muscular chest, it's like setting a stick of dynamite near an open furnace—one step away from completely incendiary.

Cole comes into the hallway fully clothed and I give him a tight smile as I leave a note for Aunt Mari. We get on the road with no further mention of how we woke up, making a quick pit stop for muffins, tea, and coffee. Thankfully, Cole seems to get the memo we will not be discussing our bed. The bed. Bed things.

Once I know we're not going there, I do my best to settle in and appreciate the road trip. Riding shotgun in the Camaro is a mini dream come true, and I pick a variety of songs to play through the Bluetooth. Cole spends most of the drive smiling and laughing, especially when I randomly blast "Cotton Eye Joe" and a few sea shanties. Seeing him laugh with that megawatt grin of his is delightful. Going home is something he's obviously excited about and I love that he has a strong value of home and family.

If I were to say yes to him, if we were to date and completely fall madly in love with each other and get married and have babies, would we bring our kids down this same freeway for Thanksgiving, Christmas, birthdays? Would we listen to kids' songs and play "I Spy" and Cole and I would smile at each other across the middle console and wonder how we got so lucky?

Or would it be me driving solo because Cole is deployed, desperate to take the kids to see their grandma so I can have an iota of quiet, alone time? Would I be frazzled by life and angry at Cole, wondering why I ever got myself involved with someone in the Navy?

The other day, Cole said it's normal for things to not be all good or all bad. Is the answer to my picture of the future C) All of the above?

Cole picks up my hand and squeezes, as if he knows why I've gone quiet. All I've promised him is one day at a time. I have to remember to take this one day at a time.

The last hour of the drive, we turn onto a winding road that takes us from the flat valley up to the mountains. The brown ugliness of Southern California in the dry season gives way to green pine trees, and when I press my cheek to the window, the glass is freezing cold. The only downside to approaching the cooler mountain highs is the constant curving of the road, reminding me of something I haven't had to deal with in years—I get carsick. I am struggling to keep my nausea at bay.

"Let me know if you need me to pull over," says Cole.

I shake my head. There is no way I'm going to let myself throw up during any part of this trip in Cole's beautiful car. Although it's mildly tempting, just to see him become Hot Corpsman again.

"Tell me your family's names again?" I press my forehead against the cold passenger window.

"My mom is Cathy, my older brother is Carson, my younger brother is Cillian. My dad was Clint. All hard ‘C' names."

I gasp as it dawns on me. "That's why you said ‘holy crap' when I told you my full name was Christiana. I would fit right in with the Slaeden line-up."

Cole's neck turns tell-tale red. "I've thought about it more than a few times," he admits.

"Mmm." I am fighting so hard to keep my meager breakfast in my stomach and off the floor mats. "Is your mom excited to see you?"

"She's going to be so stoked. Last turn, then it gets a bit bumpy. Roll down your window if that helps."

I immediately hold the window button down, and sharp mountain air hits my nose, giving me some relief. Finally, we pull up a long gravel driveway and park in front of a red two-story square farmhouse with white trim and a generous front porch. I made it without embarrassing myself. Hallelujah.

Cole lays on the horn, and I jump. Carson is the first to come striding through the front door and down the porch stairs in straight jeans, boots, and a Carhartt jacket. The squint on his face quickly turns into a grin when he sees Cole's car. Cillian leans out the door, wearing a thick fleece headband over his ears and a fluorescent running jacket. Cathy shoves her way between them and comes barreling down the front steps in a turtleneck with a flannel shirt over top, jeans and boots, and a long, gray braid draped over one shoulder.

"Cole!" she exclaims.

A whole pandemonium of dogs trail after her, rushing out to greet us: a Jack Russell terrier, German shepherds, golden retrievers, and white long-haired dogs that look like little walking rugs.

"Hello," I say, crouching down to greet the adorable, tail-wagging welcoming committee.

"What a surprise!" says Cathy, throwing her arms around Cole's neck and giving him a tight squeeze, her boots barely staying on the ground. We're surprising them? Everyone is smiling, like this is typical of Cole.

"And who might you be?" Cathy asks, turning to me in a delighted tone. I quickly stand as she comes over to give me a hug.

"Mom, this is Tia Lopez. We played soccer together and?—"

Cathy gasps. "You're the artist! Carson showed me the picture. Oh, you have a real gift. That portrait of Cole was just—" She gasps, pressing one hand over her heart. "I wish I could have bought it, but you know, we'll have to have you paint another one. It is so gorgeous. Cole favors Clint's side of the family and I could really see it coming through, and it was just—" She gasps again.

"I'm so glad you liked it," I say as my heart squeezes. I feel awful she didn't get to see it in person.

Carson sidles over and gives me a side hug, which I reciprocate. "Hey, glad you're here. Good to see you again."

"You too," I reply with a smile.

"Killer, get down here," Cole shouts. Cillian jogs out, putting in some earbuds, and gives Cole a quick back-slapping hug. "This is my friend Tia," says Cole. Good, he didn't say anything like "girlfriend" or "my girl" or whatever. Friend is fine.

"Hi, I'm Cillian. Nice to meet you," he says, shaking my hand. "Sorry, I didn't know you guys were coming, Cole. I'm on my way out." Cillian turns to me "I run cross-country and Coach is making us do weekend practices, so I have to run down to the track right now. Look forward to hanging out when I get back." He gives us a quick salute and heads down the driveway.

"If he'd known you were coming, he would have gotten out of practice," says Cathy.

"Oh, no worries," Cole replies. He grabs our hastily packed weekend bags out of the trunk, and Cathy tells him to put them in his room. She links arms with me as we go into the house, followed by Carson and all the dogs.

"Tia, I've waited a long time for Cole to bring someone home."

I hope my smile hides my shock. Cole has never brought someone home before? No, that can't be right. Although I cannot imagine him bringing Ripley here. But "Operation Don't Fall Hard and Fast for Cole" is going to be seriously compromised if I find out I'm the first girl he's ever brought home.

Cathy leads the way across worn hardwood floors to a small kitchen with ‘90s linoleum that looks like white tiles with little pink roses at the corners. Tucked into one side of the kitchen is a square table covered by a plastic red and white checked tablecloth with four benches around it, enough seating for eight. Cathy pats the tablecloth as she moves past the table to the fridge.

"I hope you don't mind if I ask you to plop down right there in the corner and chat with me while I rummage through the fridge and pull together an early lunch. I think I'll have a delivery today, but I don't want to miss the chance to share a meal with you and Cole. Are you hungry? Tell me about you."

My head is spinning from the carsickness and taking in the details of Cole's childhood home. "Well, I…" I trail off, trying to think of where to start, but I'm drawing a blank.

She jumps right in for me as she fills a mason jar with water from the tap and sets it in front of me. "I'm sorry, it's always difficult to begin a conversation with a vague prompt. How about, where did you grow up?"

"Oh, Los Angeles. Not in a terrible part, but not in a great part either." I take a sip of the water and it's delicious and cool, helping my car sickness to die down.

"And you're an artist? And where do you live now?" Cathy asks with her head inside the double doors of the fridge. "Sorry, Carson recently got us this new fridge, and I can't find anything right now. I liked the old one, but Carson insisted."

One of the smaller terrier dogs burrows under the table, nuzzling at my legs. I scoop it up as Cathy comes out of the fridge with an armful of lunch meat, cheese, condiments, and bread.

"Oh, that's Beau, he's Carson's baby. Isn't he a dear?"

Beau settles down in my lap, resting his chin on my arm. My heart melts. The kitchen and this corner table are so cozy and comfortable and having a dog to snuggle is the cherry on top.

"I live in San Diego," I say, running my hand over Beau's head as his eyes gently fall closed.

"Of course, how else would you have met Cole? Well, I mean there are lots of ways to meet people long-distance these days. No judgment for those apps or websites. People may not know their one true love isn't in their neighborhood, they're on the other side of the country. And you're an artist?"

"Trying to be," I say with a smile. "I just sold my first painting—the one of Cole. I'm hoping this is the start of a new career. How is your work going? Cole told me you're a midwife and a big inspiration for his choice to become a corpsman."

Cathy laughs and shakes her head. "I hesitate to call myself inspirational." She sets out plates and knives and opens a bag of chips.

"Well, you're definitely a part of Cole's motivation. When I asked him why he became a corpsman, he said he wanted to help people because of you and he wanted to join the military because of his dad."

"Really? He told you that?" Cathy says. I nod, and she looks at me curiously, then shakes her head. "Well, we've always done our best to give each of our boys a sense of service and participation in something greater than themselves. Clint had such a servant's heart, and I'm grateful he lives on in each of our sons."

The last thing she puts out is a massive bag of peanut butter M&Ms. She shoots me an embarrassed smile. "They're a family favorite, and we have them at every lunch and dinner. Lunch, baby boys!" Cathy calls out.

Carson and Cole's heavy footsteps rumble through the house as they make their way into the kitchen, carrying on a hushed conversation that continues as they survey the spread to make sandwiches. I'm tickled over the fact that she calls her grown sons "baby boys" and they respond immediately.

"Hey, you feeling better after the car ride?" Cole asks, turning to me. "You want me to make you a sandwich?"

"Yeah, much better, thankfully. I can get it, osito ," I say, although I would hate to wake Beau from his snooze in my arms. Carson notices I'm cradling a snoring, snuffling Beau and grins with a nod of approval.

Cole waves for me to stay seated. "No, seriously, I'll make your lunch. What do you like?"

"Okay, um, turkey, swiss cheese, a little mayo, a little mustard, and lettuce."

Cole winks at me and goes back to talking with Carson. It's a small thing, but I've never had a guy make me food before, not even a sandwich. When Cole delivers my lunch, complete with a generous handful of M&Ms, he serves it to me with a grin, like he knows he's slowly and persistently becoming an irreplaceable fixture in my life.