24. Cole

TWENTY-FOUR

Cole

8:43 pm

How could I have made love to Buster at a time like this? With Maddie in the hospital fighting for her life, it seems almost sacrilegious. And yet, I needed it. I needed to feel something other than fear and helplessness. I needed to connect with another human being, a specific other human being, in the most primal way possible.

The hunger I felt wasn't just physical. It was a desperate need to feel alive, to remind myself that even in the darkest moments, there's still light and warmth in the world. Buster gave me that without judgment or hesitation.

I take a deep breath, my eyes meeting his. "I... I'm sorry," I whisper, my voice barely audible. "It might have been inappropriate with everything that's happening. But I couldn't help it. It was like my body was acting without my mind's permission."

Buster reaches out, gently brushing a strand of wet hair from my face. His touch sends a shiver through me. "Cole," he says softly, "you don't have to justify anything. Not to me."

His words wash over me, a balm to my guilt-ridden soul. I lean into his hand, closing my eyes for a moment. When I open them again, I see understanding in his gaze, mixed with something that looks a lot like love.

"Thank you," I murmur, not just for his words but for everything he's been to me these past few days: my rock, my comfort, my lifeline in a storm of uncertainty.

I lie here on the living room floor with Buster, our bodies intertwined, skin still damp from our passionate encounter. The weight of everything—Maddie's illness, the revelation about her possible paternity—presses down on me. I take a deep breath, knowing I need to explain.

"Buster," I start, my voice barely above a whisper. "I... I need to tell you when I first started wondering if Maddie might be yours."

He stays silent, his hand gently stroking my arm. I'm grateful for his touch, which reassures me even in my deceit.

"It wasn't until that day at the theme park," I continue. "When I saw you there, after... after what happened. It knocked the wind out of me. Not just because of the horror we'd witnessed, but because looking into your eyes... I just knew. Something inside of me knew."

The silence is deafening. I continue. I need to get it all out.

I hold my breath, waiting for Buster's response. The silence stretches between us, heavy with unspoken emotions.

Finally, Buster shifts, propping himself on one elbow to look at me. His eyes, usually warm and playful, are stormy with what looks like a sea of conflicting emotions.

"Cole," he starts, his voice rough. "I... I don't even know where to begin."

He runs a hand through his hair, frustration evident in every movement. "Four years. Four years of her life that I've missed. That's... that's not something I can ever get back."

The pain in his voice cuts through me like a knife. I reach out to touch his arm, but he pulls away slightly.

"I'm angry," he admits, his jaw clenching. "I'm hurt that you didn't tell me sooner. Even if you weren't sure, I had a right to know there was a possibility."

Tears spring to my eyes again, but I force myself to meet his gaze. A single tear escapes the corner of my eye and trails down my cheek to my ear. He deserves my full attention and my honesty.

"But," he continues, his voice softening slightly, "I also understand why you didn't. Our history... it's complicated. And I'm not blameless in that."

He takes a deep breath, and I can see him struggling to put his feelings into words. "I care about you, Cole. And I care about Maddie. The idea of being her father... it's overwhelming, but it's not unwelcome. It's just... a lot to process."

"I completely understand what you're saying. I honestly don't even know what to do with the information. The possibility. Clearly."

"This changes everything, you know? I wasn't sure what we were doing before. We both agreed to keep it friends, but we've been pretty shitty at that. Friends with benefits, perhaps."

Friends. Are we friends? Are we more than friends? If he were Maddie's father, would that ruin any chance of exploring what we could be?

I want to ask him how it changes everything, but I don't feel I have the right to. Since I am the one who didn't share my hunch sooner, I kept it to myself, scared of what it could mean.

"I guess my biggest question, at least at this point, is, would you have ever told me? Would you have explored it to find out the answer? I think that is the part that bothers me the most. What if Madeline hadn't gotten sick? Would I still be none the wiser?"

It's a legitimate question. I hadn't made any plans to tell him specifically, but I knew I would have to at some point, especially if things continued to progress. But how or when I don't know.

"I like to believe I would have eventually told you, yes. But to be completely honest, I was scared. I didn't have a plan. I didn't know how to deal with it, so I put it on a shelf in my mind, hoping somehow the truth would reveal itself. I guess it has… Or, will shortly."

Buster reaches out, cupping my face in the palm of his hand. His gentle touch starkly contrasts the turmoil I see in his eyes and the tension in the room.

"I'm scared, too," he whispers, vulnerability raw in his voice. "I'm scared of what this means, of how it changes everything. But I'm also scared of losing you both."

I lean into his touch, my fears and hopes mirroring his. "I'm scared too," I admit, my voice barely audible. "But we're in this together now, whatever happens."

I feel drained, emotionally and physically. The weight of everything—Maddie's illness, the revelation about Buster's possible paternity—it's all crashing down on me.

Buster's voice breaks through my exhausted haze. "Cole, you need to get some rest."

I nod weakly, knowing he's right but unsure if I can sleep with everything swirling in my mind.

"Can we..." Buster hesitates, then continues softly, "Can we get in bed together? I'd like to hold you if that's okay."

My heart swells at his request. Despite everything I've just dumped on him, despite the turmoil I know must be raging inside him, he's still here. He's still caring for me.

"Yes," I whisper, grateful beyond words.

We move to the bedroom, and I slip under the covers. Buster slides in behind me, his strong arms wrapping around me, pulling me close. I feel safe and protected in a way I haven't in years, if ever.

"Thank you," I murmur, my voice thick with emotion. "For being here, for taking care of me. I know you must have a million questions, your own chaos to deal with."

Buster's arms tighten around me. "You and Maddie come first right now," he says softly. "We'll figure everything else out later."

I close my eyes, feeling the steady beat of his heart against my back. Despite all the fear and uncertainty, I feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude. Buster's presence, kindness, and selflessness are a beacon of light in the darkness of this terrifying situation.

As I start to drift off, I can't help but think how I've never felt so safe or so cared for during such a scary and sad time in my life. Whatever happens next, I'm thankful I don't have to face it alone.

"It turned everything I thought I knew on its head. My brain wasn't ready to understand this sudden shift. I went from thinking her father was a deadbeat who wanted nothing to do with his own daughter—or me, for that matter, if I didn't agree to an abortion—to thinking her father was a man who slept with me once and then ghosted me, never to be heard from or seen again for five years."

Tears start to well up, but I push on. "That's why I reacted so strangely. It was like a punch to the gut. And then, seeing you more often and spending time together turned that gut feeling into an obsession of thoughts and what-ifs. That's part of why I've been so hot and cold with you. I'm sorry."

The tears are flowing freely now. I bury my face in Buster's chest, feeling his steady heartbeat against my cheek.

"I never meant to keep anything from you," I sob. "I didn't know for sure. I always thought Steele was her father. But seeing you again, noticing little things about Maddie that reminded me of you. I'm so sorry, Buster. I should have said something sooner."

I feel drained, emotionally and physically. The weight of everything—Maddie's illness, the revelation about Buster's possible paternity—it's all crashing down on me.

Buster's voice breaks through my exhausted haze. "Cole, you need to get some rest."

I nod weakly, knowing he's right but unsure if I can sleep with everything swirling in my mind.

"Can we..." Buster hesitates, then continues softly, "Can we get in bed together? I'd like to hold you if that's okay."

My heart swells at his request. Despite everything I've just dumped on him, despite the turmoil I know must be raging inside him, he's still here. He's still caring for me.

"Yes," I whisper, grateful beyond words.

We move to the bedroom, and I slip under the covers. Buster slides in behind me, his strong arms wrapping around me, pulling me close. I feel safe and protected in a way I haven't in years, maybe ever.

"Thank you," I murmur, my voice thick with emotion. "For being here, for taking care of me. I know you must have a million questions, your own chaos to deal with."

Buster's arms tighten around me. "You and Maddie come first right now," he says softly. "We'll figure everything else out later."

I close my eyes, feeling the steady beat of his heart against my back. Despite all the fear and uncertainty, I feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude. Buster's presence, kindness, and selflessness are a beacon of light in the darkness of this terrifying situation.

I feel a strange mix of comfort and vulnerability as I lie in Buster's arms. His strong embrace envelops me, and his muscular arms are a fortress of warmth and security.

I feel loved and protected in a way I haven't experienced in years, maybe ever. My body melts into his familiar contours perfectly, as if our parts are part of a bigger puzzle.

Yet, even as I savor this moment of intimacy, I can't shake the overwhelming sense of helplessness consuming me. It creeps through my veins like ice, a stark reminder of my powerlessness and the precarious situation I find myself in.

I want to lose myself in Buster's comfort, but my mind races with unanswered questions and fears about my baby. The fear of losing her fills me with dread.

My mind drifts to the recent cafe inspection and how terrified and paralyzed I felt during that ordeal. But now, faced with Maddie's illness and the uncertainty of her future, I realize how trivial that fear was. This... this is true despair.

I'm so grateful Buster is here with me. When I told him about the possibility of being Maddie's father, I half-expected him to bolt, to run away like Steele did. But he stayed. He's here, holding me, supporting me, even in light of the life-altering news he also just received.

It makes all the difference in the world.

Silent tears start to fall as I listen to Buster's steady breathing in my ear. His presence is both a comfort and a reminder of how precarious it all is.

I've got my life, my whole heart, lying in a hospital bed. In this rock bottom moment, I've laid bare my deepest secret, my greatest fear, to this beautiful man holding me.

All in a matter of hours.

Now, all I can do is wait. I have zero control over the outcome of either scenario, and the frustration and fear are overwhelming.

I will wait for test results, wait for answers, wait to see if we can find the necessary match—and wait to see if all of this is too much for Buster to continue to be my rock.

The pressure of it all presses down on me, threatening to crush me. But Buster's arms tighten around me, as if sensing my distress. It grounds me, giving me a tiny sense of security during a very insecure moment. For the first time, I have someone to lean on, someone to share this burden with.

At least for this moment.

I close my eyes, letting the rhythm of Buster's breathing soothe me. Despite the fear and uncertainty, a tiny flicker of hope is in my chest. Whatever happens next, at least I don't have to face tomorrow alone.

One day at a time. That's all I have right now.

Thursday, August 22

5:43 am

I awaken with a start, my heart racing as I remember where I am and why. The room is still dark, and the first hints of dawn are not yet visible through the curtains. I'm surprised I managed to fall asleep at all, but I'm grateful for the rest, however brief.

Buster's steady breathing beside me is comforting. I carefully extricate myself from his arms, not wanting to wake him. After everything that's happened, he needs rest, too.

I reach for my phone on the nightstand, squinting at the bright screen. It's just before six in the morning. My fingers tremble slightly as I check for messages from Liesle: no missed calls, no texts. I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. No news is good news.

Slipping out of bed, I make my way quietly to the kitchen. The cool tiles beneath my feet ground me, reminding me this is real, not some terrible nightmare I can wake up from.

I lean against the kitchen counter, trying to gather my thoughts. The early morning silence feels oppressive, weighing heavily on my shoulders.

I desperately want to rush back to the hospital to be by Maddie's side, but I know I need to take care of myself, too, if I'm going to be any good to her.

So I open the fridge, the light spilling into the dark room. My stomach churns at the thought of food, but I haven't eaten anything for days. I grab a yogurt, more out of habit than hunger.

As I close the fridge, my eyes land on a drawing Maddie made last week stuck to the door with a magnet. It's a colorful scribble she proudly declared was our family— me, her, and inexplicably, a purple giraffe she'd been obsessed with lately.

The sight of it nearly undoes me, and I have to grip the counter to steady myself.

I can't hold it in anymore. Everything I've been trying to keep together since we got to the hospital comes crashing down around me. My legs give out, and I slide to the floor, my back against the cold refrigerator door.

The first sob rips through me, raw and primal. I cover my mouth with my hand, trying to muffle the sound so I don't wake Buster, but it's useless. The floodgates have opened, and there's no stopping it now.

I curl into myself, hugging my knees to my chest as I rock back and forth on the cold tile floor. The tears come hot and fast, blurring my vision. I can barely catch my breath between heaving sobs.

"Please," I whisper into the darkness, my voice cracking. "Please, God, if you're out there. Universe, spirits, anyone who's listening. Save my baby. Save my Maddie."

I've never been particularly religious, but right now, I'm willing to believe in anything and pray to anyone who can help. I close my eyes tight, picturing Maddie's sweet face and infectious laugh.

"She's just a little girl," I plead, my words barely audible through my tears. "She has so much life ahead of her. Please don't take her away from me. I'll do anything, give anything. Just please, please let her be okay."

My whole body shakes with the force of my sobs. I feel utterly helpless, completely broken. The weight of everything—the diagnosis, the uncertainty, the fear—it's all too much to bear.

In this moment, alone in the dark kitchen, I allow myself to fall apart entirely. To feel every ounce of terror and grief that I've been trying to keep at bay for Maddie's sake. I cry for my daughter, for the unfairness of it all, for the innocence that's been shattered.