8. Cole

EIGHT

Cole

8:52 pm

I take in Buster, my fingers wrapped around the stem of my wine glass. The cool night air caresses my skin, a welcome relief from the warmth that's been building inside me since he knocked on my door earlier today.

He leans against the railing, his fitted t-shirt hugging his broad shoulders and muscular arms. My eyes trace the lines of his body, remembering how those muscles felt under my hands just hours ago. The joggers he's wearing do little to hide his athletic build, and I find myself fighting the urge to reach out and touch him again.

"So," I start, trying to keep my voice steady. "About earlier..."

Buster turns to face me, his dark eyes intense in the soft glow of the balcony lights. "Yeah, about that."

I take a sip of wine, buying myself a moment to collect my thoughts. The memory of our unexpected encounter flashes through my mind—the heat of his skin, the urgency of our kisses, the way he made me forget everything else for those brief, passionate moments.

"I don't usually do that," I say, feeling a blush creep up my cheeks. "Jump my neighbors, I mean."

Buster chuckles, the sound sending a shiver down my spine. "I'm not complaining."

The cool summer evening wraps around us, carrying the faint scent of jasmine from somewhere in the complex. I watch as a gentle breeze ruffles Buster's dark hair, fighting the urge to run my fingers through it.

I take a deep breath, steeling myself. I'm typically not very good at apologies, but I think I owe one to him and myself for my behavior lately. I'm better than that.

"Buster, I... I want to apologize for the way I've been since we ran into each other at the park."

He raises an eyebrow but stays silent, waiting for me to continue—the guy who always seems to say way more than necessary exercises some unexpected restraint.

I'm sure he's not sure what is coming since I've been coming at him with my multiple personalities ever since we ran into each other, the bitchy one being the most prominent.

"It's just... I've had a lot going on lately," I explain, gesturing vaguely with my wine glass. "And then running into you several times after so long—after feeling pretty pissed initially about the way things cut off so abruptly—only to find out we're now neighbors. It was like a perfect storm, I guess, culminating with me momentarily losing my mind a few hours ago."

He looks forward, pursing his lips. "I don't hate crazy people." Another unnecessary comment. I don't think he can help himself.

I pause, taking another sip of wine to calm my nerves. "I'd just gotten back from a pretty shitty meeting when you knocked on my door. I was upset and obviously not thinking clearly."

"Obviously?"

Admittedly, that was a bad word choice.

"I meant, I don't know… That was not the right word."

Buster nods, his expression unreadable. "I get it. We all have moments where we act on impulse."

Okay, maybe he has grown up in the five years or so since I've seen him.

"Yeah, well..." I trail off, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks again. "I know I've probably been sending you mixed messages. One minute, I'm barely speaking to you; the next, I'm... well, you know."

He laughs softly, and I can't help but smile a little too. He takes a sip of his wine, and I marvel at the lines of his neck, his Adam's apple, as he swallows.

He's definitely beefed up in the years since I've seen him. The thought of running my hands over his washboard abs earlier sends a chill through me that almost makes this early August evening feel cool.

"I don't want things to be awkward between us," I break my reverie. "Especially since we're neighbors now. We've been down that road together, and it wasn't…ideal. I think it's best if we…forget about what happened and start fresh. What do you think?"

I'm holding my breath, waiting for his response. Part of me hopes he'll agree, while another part—a part I'm not ready to acknowledge—wishes he'd argue against it.

I watch Buster's face carefully as he considers my words. His chiseled jaw tightens slightly and then releases as if he is biting down on something before he responds.

"I agree," he says, nodding. "It's probably best to keep things neighborly. I'd love the chance to start over and be friends like we were before. I really enjoyed our friendship, our banter."

I feel a mix of relief and... disappointment? I push that feeling aside, focusing on our mature decision.

"I appreciate your willingness to be adult about this," I say, offering a small smile. "I promise to not be such a raging bitch every time I see you."

We both laugh, and then he reaches out his glass. "Cheers to non-bitchy friends."

As I look at him, bathed in the soft glow of the balcony lights, I can't help but feel a twinge of regret. His fitted t-shirt hugs his broad shoulders and muscular arms, reminding me of how it felt to be wrapped in them earlier. The joggers he's wearing do little to hide his athletic build, and I find my eyes drawn to the muscular curves of his body.

I shake my head slightly, trying to clear these thoughts. This is appropriate, I remind myself. We will be running into each other more, whether we like it or not. It's better to establish clear boundaries now.

But there's no denying the attraction I feel. Why else would I have been so upset when he disappeared after our first encounter? A part of me wants to throw caution to the wind to see where this undeniable chemistry might lead.

As Buster shifts in his seat, the movement drawing my attention back to his face, I'm struck again by how handsome he is. Those dark, expressive eyes, the strong line of his jaw, the way his lips curve into a smile that makes my heart skip a beat...

I take a deep breath, centering myself. This is the right decision, I tell myself firmly. But as I raise my glass to my lips, I can't help but wonder if I'm really as convinced as I want to be.

The silence stretches between us, thick with the unsaid. Buster leans back, the soft light casting shadows across his face, making him look both familiar and strange. My mind drifts back to that day at the theme park, the scream that pierced through the laughter, the sight that greeted us both. It's a shared memory now, gruesome and binding.

Buster clears his throat. "Have you heard anything about the investigation? I've been in touch with the authorities," he says, his voice low.

I shake my head, a shiver running down my spine at the memory. "No, nothing. I've been trying to keep it out of my mind."

He nods understandingly. "Same."

"What are they saying?"

"They haven't told me much either, only that they're looking into it." He pauses, then adds, "I did some digging of my own, though. Found out that workers are supposed to be harnessed when working on the rides like that."

My eyes widen. "And he wasn't?"

"Nope." Buster runs a hand through his hair, frustration etched in his features. "It's baffling to think he was up there without one, especially while the park was open."

I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees. The horrific scene replays in my mind—the body splayed out, blood pooling on concrete. How can someone just... forget something so crucial?

"It's terrifying," I murmur. "To think something like that could happen. That we were both there for it."

Buster meets my gaze, his dark eyes solemn. "Yeah. It's pretty wild, honestly. Most people are there and only focused on the fun part, myself included. I'm so glad my niece didn't see it or have any idea what happened just feet from her. How is your daughter?"

"She was pretty shaken up, mostly because I was covered in blood. But we've talked about it a few times. And I've mostly framed it as an injury. And she accepted that. At least, I think she has. You know, sometimes you don't know the impact of something like that until years later."

"I don't think I'll ever forget that. And I see gruesome scenes all the time on my operating table. I know death intimately. But that, that was tough."

I nod, wrapping my arms around myself as if to ward off the chill of death that still lingers from what we saw that day.

"And to be working that high up while the park was open..." I trail off, unable to finish the thought.

"We were lucky," he says quietly. "Lucky it wasn't us or someone we love."

The weight of his words settles over us like a blanket, heavy and suffocating. It's a small comfort that we're not alone in this aftermath—we have each other to share this burden with, even if it is only for this moment.

"Yeah," I whisper back, and for a moment, we just sit together, lost in our thoughts about mortality and chance.

I can feel Buster's presence beside me like a steady pulse—a reminder that life goes on, even in the face of tragedy—and I'm grateful for it. Despite the grim topic, I am thankful for this unexpected reconnection and the conversation that flows easier now.

It's strange how disaster can bring people together—or back together—in ways they never expected.

I sip my wine, wanting to change the subject to something lighter. Plus, my curiosity has gotten the better of me. "So, why the move? This place is nice, but it's not exactly where I'd expect to find a hotshot surgeon."

Buster chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Hotshot surgeon? I think you've got me confused with someone else."

I roll my eyes but can't help the small smile that tugs at my lips. His humbleness is endearing. "You know what I mean."

He shifts in his seat, his expression growing more serious. "Well, I recently went through a breakup. Needed a fresh start, you know? Besides the hospital being a bike ride away, you can't beat this location for the hot bars, restaurants, and other little walkable places."

I nod, agreeing on the location and understanding all too well how a relationship ending can upend your entire life.

"This place," he continues, gesturing around us, "is close to the hospital. It makes those late-night emergencies a bit easier to handle. I'm even considering getting a nice bike and biking to work. I haven't gotten there yet, but the thought has crossed my mind."

"Ah, the glamorous life of a surgeon," I tease, some of that easy banter that connected us all those years ago starting to emerge.

Buster smiles, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Yeah, something like that."

There's more to the story, the move, I can tell. But I don't push. We're treading new ground here, rebuilding a friendship that was barely formed before it was abandoned. I'm not sure we're ready for profound, personal revelations just yet.

"Well, welcome to the neighborhood," I say instead, raising my glass in a small toast. "You'll love this location, for sure. Plus, the neighbors aren't so bad, either."

"Ha," he replies, clinking his glass against mine. "It's an adjustment, but I think it'll be good. A nice change of pace. I wonder if everyone gets the robust welcoming routine I experienced with my first neighborhood meet-and-greet."

"Unlikely, but you never know…"

We fall into a comfortable silence, the soft sounds of the city at night drifting up to us. It's strange, sitting here with Buster after all this time. Odd, but not unpleasant. There's still a spark there, an undeniable attraction, but it's tempered now by time and experience.

I find myself wondering what might have been if things had gone differently all those years ago. But I push the thought away. There is no use dwelling on what-ifs. We're here now, neighbors and maybe friends.

And that's enough.

For now, at least.

Tuesday, August 13

8:01 am

I'm hustling Maddie out the door, my arms full of her backpack, lunchbox, and my own bag. "Come on, sweetie, we've got to go," I urge, trying to keep the frustration out of my voice. Why is it always a struggle to get out of the house on time in the morning?

"But Mommy, I forgot Mr. Snuggles!" Maddie wails, her bottom lip quivering.

I sigh, knowing we don't have time to go back for her stuffed rabbit. "I'm sorry, honey, but we really need to?—"

The words die in my throat as I nearly collide with a familiar figure in the hallway. Buster. He's in his scrubs, looking slightly disheveled, as if in a rush.

"Oh, hey," he says, surprise evident in his voice. "Forgot my pager. Had to run back after surgery."

I remember my promise to be more personable and force a smile. "Morning, Buster. We're just heading out to school. We can't seem to nail the happy morning routine yet. But we are only two days in, so I'm not giving up hope, right, Mads?"

His eyes light up. "School, huh? That's exciting."

I nod, acutely aware of the time ticking away. But before I can make excuses, Buster kneels to Maddie's level.

"And you must be the famous Madeline?" he asks her, his voice warm and friendly.

Maddie, suddenly shy, presses against my leg. "I'm Maddie," she mumbles.

"Nice to meet you, Maddie," Buster says, holding out his hand for a high five. "I like your unicorn shirt. Is that your favorite animal?"

Maddie nods, a smile breaking through her shyness. "Uh-huh. But I like bunny rabbits too. I have one named Mr. Snuggles, but I forgot him today."

"Oh no," Buster says, his face comically serious. "Well, I'm sure Mr. Snuggles will be waiting for you when you get home. Maybe he's having his own adventure today."

Maddie giggles, and I feel a warmth in my chest at the interaction. It's sweet to see Buster so at ease with her.

My phone vibrates in my back pocket. I pull it out and see it is John Early, the health inspector. Shit. I will have to call him back in a minute.

He looks up at me, probably wondering why my face is contorted in this sweet moment. "Is everything okay?"

"Not really. I have this health inspector all up in my mix about the cafe. It's stressing me out. But we will be fine."

"I'm so sorry. Is there anything I can do to help? My cousin works at the Department of Public Health. I'm not sure if he can do anything, but I'd be happy to put you two in contact. Or, at least, reach out to him and ask for advice."

I appreciate Buster's willingness to help, but pulling him into my nightmare is the last thing I need to do. I'm mad at myself for even mentioning my problem.

"I appreciate the offer, but you don't have to do that. I know you're rushing, and we really should get going, too," I say, hating to break up the moment but feeling more anxious than ever.

Buster stands, nodding. "Of course. Have a great day at school, Maddie. I'm sure Mr. Snuggles will miss you, but I bet he will have a good day, too. And Cole, I'll see you around?"

"Yeah, see you," I reply, ushering Maddie towards the elevator. As we step inside, I glance back at Buster, catching his smile before the doors close.