26. Blaise

Istare out the passenger window at the passing houses and trees. A dog barks behind a wire fence, and a bike lies abandoned on the sidewalk. It’s a rundown street in a shady neighborhood. I don’t ask questions. Cole is unusually silent, his grip tight on the steering wheel. The window is down, and a mild breeze rustles my hair as I turn my head in his direction. A muscle clenches in his jaw as he focuses on the road.

Sensing that he’s hurting, I reach for his free hand on his thigh and interlace our fingers. I want him to talk to me, but I know I can’t force Cole to open up. He has to do it in his own time.

Stroking my thumb over the silver rings on his fingers, I squeeze softly before looking out the window. We pass a series of boarded-up buildings with colorful graffiti—a sign of bored youth with little hope for the future. I’ve never been to this part of town. My dad has a good job. Expensive cars and enough Christmas gifts to sink a ship are all I’ve ever known. It’s easy to forget that Cole’s life would look very different today if his mother hadn’t left his father and married mine.

We pass a house that resembles a shoe box, and shame burns my chest. All the times I gave Cole grief, and not once did I stop to think about his past or the memories he’s forced to relive every time his dad makes contact despite the restraining order.

He pulls up by the sidewalk and cuts the engine. My eyes sweep over the houses. It’s another rundown street with rusty cars, littered, overgrown yards, and sagging porches.

With his hand hanging over the steering wheel, Cole points a finger at one of the shoe boxes farther down the road. “See that house?”

I peer through the windshield at the tiny white house with a broken wire fence and a yard that’s smaller than my bedroom. The screen door flaps in the wind.

“That’s where I grew up. Home sweet fucking home.”

My throat jumps, but I don’t know what to say, so I stay silent, sensing that Cole wants to share a small part of himself that no one else gets to see.

“When my dad came home drunk, Mom would make me hide under the bed to keep me safe.”

I tighten my grip on him in response, but he doesn’t seem to notice, lost in his painful memories. I wish I could reach him somehow.

“I could hear her cry while he hurt her. At first, I was scared, but then as I grew older, I felt…” His jaw tightens, and his chest expands on a ragged inhale. “I felt angry at him and myself. I hated that I was too small to protect Mom.” Looking away from the house, his hair flops over his forehead as he gazes down at our clasped hands. When he continues speaking, his raspy voice squeezes my heart in a vise. “I eventually built up the courage to crawl out from beneath my bed. I still remember how fucking scared I was when I told him in a shaky voice to stop hurting her. My body trembled as I fisted my hands.” Shaking his head as if to rid himself of the haunted memories, he stares out the window with a faraway look. “He laid into me like I was a fucking punching bag while my mom threw herself at him to get him to stop. She was too weak, but I still remember her beating his back.”

Tears glaze his eyes when he pulls his hand from mine and stares at his palms. “I pissed myself. That’s how scared I was.”

I suck in a breath, wishing I could go back in time to murder his fucking dad. Hell, I might just do it anyway, but it won’t wipe the pain from Cole’s eyes. Nothing will.

“That only made him even more angry, and he called me a pathetic coward before punching me so hard I flew into the wall and knocked a framed photograph to the floor. Guess what?” He looks at me, and I hold my breath. “It was a photograph of the three of us. We looked so fucking happy, smiling like the perfect family.” He laughs, but it’s a bitter, cold sound. “Such a fucking lie.”

His brows furrow as he reaches for my hand again, and he looks down as he slides his fingers across the lines on my palm. “He basically stabbed me when I fought back, and it got worse.” He gestures to his right leg, the tattoos covering the scars.

I can only stare at him, my heart breaking at the trauma.

“I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have unloaded all this crap on you.”

“Fuck… Cole.” I sit up straight. “Don’t apologize. I’m glad you brought me here.”

Those dark brows knit together, but he still won’t look at me. He’s embarrassed. I get it… It took him a lot to be vulnerable with me, and if there’s one thing Cole isn’t good at, it’s communicating. Somewhere in the back of that troubled mind of his, he thought the best way to let me in was to bring me here. Sometimes, actions speak louder than words, and now that I’ve been here and seen this sliver of his past, I feel like I know him more than anyone except for his mom.

I bring his hand to my lips and kiss his knuckles. Cole tracks my every move, holding himself back like he thinks I might strike. I want to scream, ‘You’re safe with me,’ from the fucking rooftops, but I communicate better through actions, too. We have that in common.

Grabbing the back of his neck, I pull him to me and pry his lips open with my tongue. We kiss out in the open for the first time, but Cole doesn’t seem to care that anyone could walk past and see us silencing his demons.

It’s not like any of our friends would see us here on this rundown street in these shady parts of town, but my heart still rejoices.

Breaking away, I nip at his kiss-swollen lips before exiting the car and sliding across the hood. My grin hurts my cheeks as I open his door. “Get out.”

He blinks at me and then scans the street.

“It’s my turn to take you somewhere,” I say, and Cole looks back at me. My smile grows impossibly wide. I rest my arm on the roof and lean into the car. Fuck me, I want to kiss him again, but I let my dimples out to play instead. “Scoot over, princess.”

That makes him laugh, and he unbuckles his belt and forces me back as he unfolds from the car. “Call me a princess one more time, and I’ll make you my bitch in the backseat of the car.”

“Woah,” I laugh as he rounds the front of the car. “Now that sounds like a promise, princess.”

Cole flips me off, then climbs in, and I can’t stop more chuckles from shaking my diaphragm. My gaze snags on the white house, and my laughter dies in my throat. This is the shadow his past casts on his reality, like a cloud in the blue sky, and one of these days, I’m going to make his father pay for the shit he put his son through. I swear to fucking god, I’ll make him beg for his life.

Cole looks confusedas I drive us through a remote village. It’s the ‘blink and you miss it’ type of town. My dad drove us here once to drop something off for someone, and I’ve come here since.

I pull up in a small parking lot, big enough to fit four cars and exit the vehicle. Cole climbs out, too, and looks around like he expects me to drag him into the bushes and strangle him. “Where the fuck are we?”

“You’ll see,” I say, walking toward an opening in the cliffs. The sandy path crunches beneath our soles, and a warm breeze ruffles our hair from the sea to our left. A seagull screeches as I shove my hands into my jeans pockets to stop myself from reaching his hand.

The cliffs part and the small rocks beneath our feet shift to soft sand. We step onto the beach, which is this village’s hidden gem. Very few people know about this place.

Walking ahead, the sun heats my shoulders through my T-shirt as I pick out a dry spot of sand. Kicking off my shoes and socks, I sit down.

Cole comes to a stop beside me, and I shield my face from the sun as I peer up at him. “Join me.”

A small smile plays the corner of his lips, and he looks out at the crashing waves. The wind shifts his dark hair as I feel my heart beating harder. Reaching for his hand, I pull his attention back to me. “Please.”

He lowers himself, and we sit in silence while watching a seagull ride the breeze.

“The space beneath your bed is your safe place,” I say, and Cole looks at me. I lift a shoulder in a shrug. “This is mine.”

Resting my arms on my knees, I let my eyes drift over an incoming wave. It builds in strength, much like my emotions where Cole is concerned and, with a ferocity that’s both terrifying and exciting, it crashes against the shore. “You’ve met my dad,” I reply, staring at the white sea foam as the wave retreats out to sea. “While your father abused you both, my father…” I drift off, unsure how to express myself. Scratching at my temple, I try again. “My dad is cold. He provides for your mom, takes her on holidays, and makes sure she has everything she needs. On the flip side, when it comes to her emotional needs, he’s completely clueless. You’re her son, the most prized possession she has, and he won’t even try with you. It’s emotional abuse, Cole.”

Cole listens without interrupting, and I appreciate that he lets me stumble over my words.

“I like you, Cole. Fuck, I’m falling for you.” Reaching for his hand, I squeeze his fingers. “I want this for us, but I share my dad’s blood and fear that maybe⁠—”

Cole kisses me before I can finish that sentence, his lips pressing against mine. “Shut up,” he whispers and nips my bottom lip. “You’re not your dad.”

“And you’re not yours,” I remind him, making him pull away and bounce his eyes between mine.

“This is all very new to me.” Scooping up sand, I feel it pour through my fingers. “For the longest time, I thought I was incapable of feeling. I was fine with it.”

“What are you saying?”

Another wave crashes against the shore.

“I’ve done some things… You might not look at me the way you do now when you find out.”

“What have you done?”

I should tell him about the time I drugged him and recorded him fucking Mia while his girlfriend blew me, all because I wanted blackmail material to hold over his head. I should also tell him I know he’s the masked man and that he’s the only one I want.

There are a lot of things I should say.

But I don’t because I’m scared of losing him. I’d rather keep him in the dark, regardless of how selfish that makes me. But maybe I deserve to be selfish for once. I’ve always lived up to my dad’s high expectations of me, and sometimes—no, a lot of times—it forced me to be someone else.

Dad wanted me to get a girlfriend from a high-standing family, so I brought Mia home.

Dad wanted me to play football, so I joined the team.

Dad wanted me to follow in his footsteps, so I took up majoring in business.

If Dad wanted me to jump, I asked how high.

As long as I did as he asked, he clapped me on the back in passing. If I disobeyed him, he gave me the cold shoulder.

Instead of answering Cole’s question, I do what I do best. I distract him with a blinding smile before rising to my feet and pulling my T-shirt over the back of my head.

Cole catches it mid-air when I toss it at him. “What are you doing?”

Unbuckling my belt, I pull down my zipper. Cole’s eyes widen, and he whips his head around to scan the beach.

“There’s no one here,” I say, stepping out of my jeans.

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m going for a swim.”

He opens his mouth to speak, but snaps it shut as I hook my thumbs in my boxers. My cock springs free, and the knowledge that someone could come walking through the opening in the cliffs quickens my heartbeat. “Do you like what you see, princess?”

His eyes fly up to my face, and he growls, making me laugh. I kick off my boxers, cup my junk, and look at him from beneath my dark lashes. “First to the water wins a blowjob.”

“Oi!” he shouts, shooting to his feet when I run for the water. “You fucking cheat, I’m still clothed.”

“Tough luck, princess.”

Kicking up sand, I’m just about to enter the cold water, when Cole darts past me fully dressed, not giving a shit about soaking his clothes. He dives into the waves as I come to a skidding halt ankle-deep. His head pops up, and he spits out water and whips his wet hair out of his eyes. “What are you waiting for, princess?” he calls out, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Looks like you owe me a blowjob, after all.”

I raise a brow as laughter rumbles in my chest.

If this is what happiness feels like, I want more.

Cole curls a finger at me. “Come here.”

Wading into the water, I allow myself to be called forward by the darkening look in his eyes, knowing far too well that at some point, my lies will blow up in my face. Secrets can only stay buried in the murky waters for so long, but who can deny the siren’s call when he’s smirking like my tailor-made devil?