Chapter 30

CHAPTER 30

"Hey, Tia."

A deep voice cuts through my sleep. My body freezes in fight-or-flight mode as I slowly open my eyes. Cole is sitting on the edge of the bed in jeans and a flannel with a Carhartt jacket over it. A black beanie covers his hair. He looks like a mountain man, but my tired brain is struggling to make sense of why he's here, looking like that.

"The house had better be on fire," I say with an exhausted groan.

"The house is fine," he says with a reassuring kiss to my forehead.

"What time is it?" I ask, craning my neck to glance at the window. It's still dark outside.

"Before dawn. I was gonna go on a hike to my special spot to watch the sunrise, but I thought you might want to come with me."

I groan and rub my face. "Waking up before the sun? To hike? How can I say no?"

"It'll be worth it, I promise. It's one of my favorite things in the whole world. And I want you to see it."

"This is not your best surprise." I sigh. "Is it cold outside?"

"Yeah, dress warm. I'll make you some tea and meet you outside in the truck."

I give in and nod, and even in the dark I can tell he's smiling as he leaves. I pull on my jeans and layer a sweatshirt under a denim jacket, but it still doesn't feel like enough layers. Outside of the warmth of Cole's bed, the room is cold, and I imagine it's even worse outside. I take the liberty of rooting through Cole's closet and find a maroon snowboarding coat. I ditch the denim jacket and slide into the coat. It's big on me, but very cozy, and it even smells like him.

When I come down the stairs, the dogs are all lined up against the wall, scarfing down their breakfast from multiple bowls and Cole is waiting for me by the front door.

"Look at you," he says with a grin, his voice a silky whisper. "Here, my mom had an extra pair of boots lying around. You should be the same size." He hands me a pair of Blundstones which fit well after I wrestle them on.

Cole holds the door for me, and we make our way across the crunchy gravel to a big pickup truck that looks a couple decades old, already rumbling. He glances over at me, a sheepish look on his face. "Are you mad I woke you up?"

"Pretend I am so you never do this again."

His relieved smile is endearing. "Fair enough. Hop in," he says, opening the passenger door for me. "There's a blanket there, and your tea is in the cupholder." He points out a black travel mug with a Bearstone Lake Towing logo and I get a whiff of earl gray.

The cab of the truck is warm and cozy, Celine Dion is playing through the speakers, and it smells like a running heater and pine air freshener. I get settled on the worn gray upholstered bench seat with a smile. Everything is clean and tidy, a few pens gathered in the cup holder and a CD holder attached to the visor, CDs filling every slot.

Cole gets in on the driver's side and takes a moment to run his hands over the bumpy grip of the steering wheel. His eyes drift towards a red and white outbuilding across from the house. We sit in the early morning stillness for a while, just the sound of the running truck and Celine singing a love ballad.

"This was Dad's truck," Cole says gently. He tilts his head towards the building. "Sometimes I wonder if he's going to come out of his workshop and tell me to drive safe, the way he did when I was in high school."

"It's a really cool truck," I reply. "What did he do again?"

"A lot of everything. Ran his own handyman and towing company, did some wood-working, installed cabinets, that sort of thing. He was always trying something new, adding new skills to his vast bank of knowledge."

"Did he teach you those things too?"

"Yeah, some stuff. I'm fairly handy with my car and basic fixes around the house. Carson knows way more than me, but he had a head start."

"It's cool that you guys still use his truck. I love it."

He nods with a reflective smile, then lays one arm behind my shoulders as he backs the truck out of the driveway.

We drive on mountain roads for about fifteen minutes until Cole turns the truck into a dirt turnout and parks. He comes around and gets my door for me, and I spy a narrow sliver of trail worn in the dirt behind him as I hop down.

"I'll bring the blanket—it can get extra cold up top," he says, throwing it over his shoulder, then taking my hand.

"How far do we have to go?"

"Not far—and not too steep either."

Sure enough, right as I'm thinking about asking how much longer, Cole pulls me up on top of a giant expanse of rock. We walk towards the edge and a wide view of the valley and the mountains opens up in front of us. The moon is moving off to one side, and the sky is lightening in shadowy, pastel gradients. There's a gentleness to the darkness giving way to day, something more serene than the brilliant fire of sunset.

Cole wraps the blanket around himself, then wraps his arms and the blanket around my shoulders, including me in the warmth.

"I've never really seen the sky like this," I say. "It's beautiful."

He hums in agreement, his chest vibrating against my back. "You're not a morning person?"

"Not generally."

We're both fixated on the light coming from the horizon, growing gradually at first, then picking up momentum, the birds joining in with fast twitters of song.

Cole breathes steadily, and I stay warm in the cocoon of jackets and blankets and his thick arms. My hands come up to rest over his and seem small in comparison. A hopeful peace settles around us, taking a weight off my chest.

If this was all there was in the world, I would be happy. If all we had to do was watch the sun rise and set from a rocky outcropping, embracing each other through the whole of the day, I would be more than content.

Thoughts of reality and responsibilities creep in, and I do my best to shut them out. We're away from life, suspended in space and time in this moment when no one else exists but us. I close my eyes and lean my head back against Cole's shoulder, intent on memorizing every detail.

This is only special because of him, no one else could make this feel so idyllic. He's not perfect, but he's perfect to me. Everything about this is all I've ever wanted—to be at peace, to feel cared for, protected, safe, comfortable, loved. Because of Cole Slaeden.

Cole takes a deep breath, and his arms tighten around me.

"What are you thinking about?" I ask.

"Fear," he whispers hoarsely.

It's so radically different from what's been going through my mind that I instinctively turn around in his arms and hug him tight, my arms dipping underneath his jacket to flatten my hands against his back.

"What are you afraid of?"

"Losing you. That this is an emotional high. That everything is going to crash down on us when we get back. The logistics are going to get to you, my job is going to get to you, it's all going to be a lot. And you'll drift away from me."

I lean back to look into his eyes. "Cole, I will always be here for you. Nothing will ever affect our friendship."

He shakes his head, then looks down at me with a passionate, soul-melting glare. "I don't want just your friendship, I want all of you. Tia, I love you, you take up my whole heart and soul. I want you as mine, and I want to be yours."

I'm speechless, breathless. Want, want, want.

Cole looks away, his forehead pinched in frustration. "We can't keep doing this… I can't keep doing this. I know I said one day at a time, but we can't do that forever. If we're not meant to be together, then we should be going out and finding who we are meant to be with. You deserve to find true love, even if it's not with me."

"Cole—" I wish I wasn't so scared. I wish I could be brave. I thought courage mattered most in making big life decisions or in stressful situations, but in this moment, I realize it matters most in love. I love him too much to let him go, but not enough to commit to him yet.

"You're right," I say, tears of frustration rising. "I hear what you're saying." I look up at him, my eyes pleading for him to somehow magically make this less difficult. "Doesn't mean it's easy."

"No, not at all," he whispers, giving me a soft, gentle kiss."How about this? We'll leave it until after I get back. I understand your reservations, really, I do, and I will always respect what you want. We'll get through the next two months and see how things go?"

I nod to him. I hate that we're going to put this pressure on ourselves. I hate that we have started a ticking clock. But it's only fair, it's only right.

Lunch is the last meal we have together, the Slaeden family and me, tucked into the corner of the kitchen. It feels like we just got here and now all too soon, we have to say our goodbyes. Of course I give hugs to all the pups as we gather on the front porch. Then Cathy steps forward and hugs me tight. "I am so, so glad I got to meet you, Tia. You're a gem. Thank you for painting my boy. I hope I get to see lots more of you."

"You're an amazing woman, an amazing mom," I tell her, hugging her back.

"No pressure," she whispers, "but I see the way Cole looks at you and I want you to know I would love to have you as my first daughter."

I immediately tear up, making it hard to let go of her. She is the sweetest.

"When are we going to see you next?" she asks, as she turns to give Cole a hug.

"We'll be in touch," is the line Cole settles on as he embraces her.

Cillian and Carson give me brotherly hugs, then backslapping hugs to Cole, then Cole and I are in the car backing down the driveway. Everyone waves until we're out of sight.

"Why am I crying?" I protest through my tears. "They're not even my family, and I only met them like twenty-four hours ago."

Cole pats my leg and smiles. "I'm glad you like my family." He turns the radio to a country station and I roll down the window to prep for the winding roads.

The whirlwind of a weekend sinks into my brain. Sweet Cathy, the brothers together, driving in Cole's dad's truck, the mountaintop moment Cole and I shared. Most of all, the overwhelming love of family. I really need to be better about my relationship with Dad and Julio, not take them for granted. I'm so grateful I have them. If the Slaedens were to become my family too, I'd be doubly lucky.

As the emotions settle once we descend the mountain, some stark facts rise to the surface, like islands emerging from an ocean fog. The biggest being the fact that Carson bought my painting. Not exactly the major art win I was hoping for. It's nice to have a sale under my belt, and I am forever grateful the painting is staying in the family, but…that's it. There's no next steps, no new thresholds to cross, no collector interested in further work from me. I'm right back where I started in my attempt to launch my career.

Crap. I don't want to think about that now. I glance over at Cole. He's running his hand over his hair and studying the road with a pensive, furrowed brow.

" ?Qué estás pensando? What are you thinking about?" I ask.

"Things are going to pick up the pace when I get back." Cole starts walking me through his schedule, detailing the variables of his travel plans, including leaving his car at Luko and Denny's.

"You can use it while I'm gone if you need to," he offers.

"Really? You'd let me drive the Camaro?"

"Of course," he says and moves on to talking about getting his plane ticket.

I don't want to talk about his plane ticket. I'd rather talk about anything else, but I listen gamely and nod along, making notes of the dates and times in my phone calendar.

The closer we get to San Diego, traffic builds up, and Cole's getting more and more clipped with his words. We end up respectfully arguing about whether we should get dinner, whether Cole should come in, whether he needs to immediately get on the road back to base or stay until traffic dies down. Basically, everything. I'm getting more and more worried about whether he's mad at me or I'm actually mad at him, but not expressing it well. No, I'm not mad at him, I'm just…ugh, everything is off.

I don't understand it. We just had an amazing, wild, emotional twenty-four hours, but now we're both acting like it was all too stressful.

"Cole, it's going to be okay," I say as he parks in front of Aunt Mari's house.

He rubs his face. "I need to shave," he says, looking in the rearview mirror. "Dang it, I forgot to get a haircut. Guess I'll have to do a barracks cut."

I reach over, grab the front of his flannel, and kiss his cheek, rough with blond stubble after two days of not shaving.

"What's worrying you?" I ask, running my thumb along his jaw.

"There's just a lot going on."

"You worried about work? About leaving?"

He nods, leaning into my hand. "All of it." His eyes close, and he exhales heavily.

"It'll be okay," I say softly.

"Yeah. Okay." He gets out of the car, comes around, opens the door for me, and brings my bag up to the front door. We share a quick kiss and a whispered goodbye. I'll see him again before he leaves, but the way my stomach still flips in fear does not bode well.

I wave to him with a smile as he drives off, but once the rumble of his car fades away, the reality hits. I have things to figure out, decisions that need to be made. He has work, and his own mental and emotional journey to navigate. And we'll have to do it on our own. It's hard not to feel an impending sense of dread looming over us like a black thundercloud threatening rain. I can see it coming, and there's nothing I can do to stop it.