Chapter 13

Haley

I don’t think I realized how badly I hurt Cole, leaving him all those years ago. I was so scared and heartbroken back then, my survival instincts kicked in and I took off. The end. But seeing Cole’s reaction when I said I had to leave his condo struck a chord. Even his comment about maybe he should have put a short leash on me all along so I couldn’t run away really hits home. He said we should start over with a clean slate, but that can’t happen. Too much still hangs in the air above us.

I’ll do anything to prove my intentions to him and make us right.

If he asked me to marry him today, I’d say yes.

There’s no other man for me. There never has been.

If we’re going to give our relationship a second chance, I need to bare my soul.

We drove separately—Cole’s idea, not mine. When he pulls into the parking spot next to mine, I compare us, just like I always used to do. He has a black, sleek Mercedes. I’ve got a fifteen-year-old Subaru with a big dent in the front fender. I’ve never been one to give a shit about vehicles. If mine gets me from point A to point B safely, I’m happy. But as Cole climbs out of his car, he looks successful, powerful, and fine as hell. I probably look like a bum.

“How long ago did you move here?” he asks, walking over to me.

“About a month ago. It took me a while to find an affordable place in the area. Even longer for an apartment to open that I could snag. All my money is tied up in the office space, so no house for me yet.”

He frowns. “You’ve dumped all your money into that office?”

“Into my future success, yes.” I unlock the door and let us both into the building. “I saved enough to put a mean chunk down on construction and furniture, and signed a seven-year lease, which was the only way I could even get that damn property. Might as well make it exactly what I want the first time around instead of settling and making do with how it is for a few years.”

He grabs my arm, stopping me mid-way up the stairs. But he doesn’t say a word. His expression is filled with questions, though, and I can read him well enough to know what they are.

I guess it’s easy to think my actions are out of character for me. “I meant what I said, Cole. I’m not running anymore. I want roots.”

And I want to plant them with him.

After opening the door to my not-too-shabby apartment, I shake off the urge to apologize for the messiness. Cole won’t care if I have clothes and stuff everywhere. Since I’ve been working out of my house all month, there are folders, binders, and party supplies everywhere. Votive candles, glass vases, linens, and all kinds of shit I’ve collected on my own are stored in boxes stacked in the dining area I never eat in. If I can rent those things, I will, but if my client is on a tight budget, I use what I have so their parties are more budget friendly. I know what it’s like to not be able to afford the things I’d like. It’s become a mission of mine to give others the best events possible without breaking their bank accounts.

“I’m going to get into something a little more comfortable,” I say, heading to my bedroom. “Make yourself at home.”

“Okay.”

It takes me less than two minutes to strip out of my stuffy clothes and into something way better. Keeping quiet, I cautiously watch Cole in my living room. I knew he’d snoop. It’s why I wanted to bring him here. Cole’s a curious guy who will ask a million questions until he knows everything about everything. He made it so easy to open up to him back in the day. It never felt like he was prying and being nosy. He genuinely liked knowing even the most insignificant things about me.

No matter how opposite we were, he’d find a way to relate to me. I did the same with him.

Cole casually walks over to my small bookshelf. Little notes are taped all over it. The one he’s reading now says, “You’re not a hindrance just being in someone’s life. You’re a human, not baggage.”

His jaw ticks. He swallows hard when he reads another one that says, “No one can make you feel worthless without your consent.” And next to that one is, “Love yourself how you want others to love you.”

My chest feels like it’s cracking open only because I sort of feel like a weirdo having all these notes and sayings plastered in places. But I still have bad days when I need the reminder that I’m not trash.

Working on undoing the damage my parents did to me is an ongoing process.

He plucks a book off the shelf and fans through it. Colorful tabs stick out from the pages. I’ve written all over the margins of just about every book I own, marking things so I can reference them when I need to. His mouth moves as he reads, his finger running along the words. He slams the book shut and pulls out another, then another. “Jesus,” he whispers.

“I told you I had to work on myself.”

Startled, he drops the book on the floor. “Shit.” He picks it up hastily, but when he looks at me, he almost drops it again. “Is that…”

“Your emotional support hoodie?” I tug the hem which reaches my mid-thigh. “Yes. It’s seen me through a lot.”

Cole silently places the book back on the shelf, but his eyes remain fixed on me. “It’s seen me through a lot, too.” He closes the gap between us and runs his hand down my arm. “Was it always this small?”

“I think you’ve just grown.” My heart skitters when he pulls the hood over my head, cocooning me like how he used to always wear it.

“I thought you would have tossed it out the window.”

“Never.” I exhale a shaky breath. “It’s all I had left of you.”

He tugs the hood back down and brushes the hair from my face. “Did it help?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

His gaze drifts back to the bookshelf. “Yeah, you are.”

“You know, you never even asked me about my pretend boyfriend.”

His attention snaps back to me. A dark eyebrow lifts and he looks downright possessive. “You got a story for that fake motherfucker?”

“I never said he was fake. I said he was pretend.”

Cole tilts his head. “There’s a difference?”

“Absolutely.”

He crosses his arms. “Okay then. Tell me about him.”

Is Cole jealous right now? How adorable.

“He’s really sweet.” I stuff my hands in the front pocket of his hoodie. “And he’s a really good basketball player, too.”

Cole’s eyes narrow. “Sounds like someone I know.”

“He’s super funny.” I crook my middle and forefinger. “He’s also a self-proclaimed flip cup champion.”

His shoulders collapse a little.

“Hella smart. Hella sexy. Has a successful career as an architect.”

Cole’s body seems to grow with every breath he struggles to take. “This pretend guy got a name?”

“Cole. He’s on Insta if you want to see pics.”

He doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t move. Hell, I don’t even think he’s blinked throughout this whole conversation. “So, this Cole guy thought it was okay to just…” He saunters closer to me. “Leave the love of his life in another part of the fucking country all this time?”

“That was my choice,” I assure him, running my hands up his arms to curl around his neck. “He fought me about it, but in the end gave me what I wanted. What I needed.”

He makes this choking noise that sounds like I just broke his heart a little bit. Or maybe that’s my own heart I hear cracking in half. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t able to be what you deserved then, Cole. And I’m sorry I didn’t come to you and tell you everything before I left.”

He shakes his head. “No more saying sorry, Haley.” His gaze drags down my body, landing on the faded logo of the hoodie. “We’re right where we belong now.”

I hope he’s right.

“And never think for a second that you were ever undeserving, Haley, of me or of anything else you’ve ever wanted.”

We’ll probably never see eye-to-eye about that, but I appreciate him saying it. He means it, which helps me fortify the mental and emotional work I’ve done on myself.

“You’re home to me, Cole.”

The way his expression softens lets me know he understands what I’m saying.

I’ve never had a home before. Not one that lasted more than a year, and never one that was truly mine. He also knows that I’ve lived in a car, a tent, on other people’s couches, and in disgusting rentals growing up. Outside of a public library, my dorm room was the closest thing I’d had to a safe place to rest my head at night.

Hell, I didn’t know what a home was until I spent Thanksgiving with Cole’s family senior year. I’d broken down in the car on the way back to campus and confessed that I wanted what he has.

A family.

Roots.

I just had no clue how to attain any of it.

And I wasn’t worthy.

Back then, Cole consoled me, but it was something he couldn’t relate to. I’m glad. I wouldn’t wish my upbringing on my worst enemy. Looking back, that Thanksgiving trip to his family’s home was a tipping point for me. I felt like garbage in the center of a sanctuary. Cole’s world and mine didn’t belong in the same galaxy. Nothing he said could change my mind about it.

That Christmas, I gave him a present to change my feelings about my place in his life. I wore a bracelet and told him I’d be his fucktoy for two solid weeks. When the bracelet came off, the fantasy was over. It was the best two weeks of my life.

I didn’t feel like garbage. I didn’t feel used.

I felt wanted. Needed.

From the moment I met Cole, until the day before I left him, was the happiest, greatest time of my entire existence. Does he know how much he means to me now? The words, I love you, perch on the tip of my tongue. I open my mouth to say it, but it doesn’t feel good enough.

Love is too weak for what I feel for this man.

What even is love anyway? I don’t know. With my parents, love was an obligation. They’re my mom and dad, of course I’m supposed to love them. It didn’t matter how they treated me. I’d make excuse after excuse for them until I couldn’t take it anymore. Then I ran and cut all connections.

If love is what I run away from, then yeah, maybe I do know love. I ran away from Cole once, too, didn’t I?

Maybe. Yes. Hell, I don’t know.

What I feel for Cole can’t be only love. It’s too strong, too alive, too endless to be that simple. He’s not an obligation. He’s not a fantasy.

He’s home.

Cole is the familiar, comfortable, wonderful safety I’ve needed my entire life. He’s fun and smart and sweet and generous. He doesn’t look down on me or treat me like shit if I do something that disappoints him. He’s the goal I’ve worked towards for the better part of five years. I didn’t run away from Cole; I ran away from the girl I was, so I could find the woman who deserved a man like Cole.

I needed to fight, to heal, to grow.

Cole glances at the notes taped all over the bookshelf. “I knew it hadn’t been easy for you.” He gulps. “But I didn’t realize how bad it truly was, Haley.”

Now he does.

Cole cups my face, running his thumb along my cheek. I hear what he’s not saying. Cole would have helped me through my bad times if I’d let him. He would have supported me however I needed it. He would have done a lot for us both, if only I hadn’t run away. What he might not realize is that he helped me break out of my shell all those years ago. He showed me it’s okay to want things that may look out of my reach. He gave me hope that I’m not as awful as my parents made me feel all the time.

His gaze locks on mine, making my heart gallop. “You’ve crawled through Hell, haven’t you, Angel?”

“I still am.” Dropping to my knees, I hope he understands how much I need him. “Only now, I like it.” I’ll happily crawl through Hell if Cole’s my final destination.

“God dayem.”

The threads of tension binding us start snapping, one by one. I look up at him with my brow arched and a smile on my face. Cole slowly backs up, each step he takes is another tension line snapping free until the air between us is light and exciting again. His back eventually hits the bay window and he crooks his finger, beckoning me to him.

I don’t need a bracelet, collar, or a leash to bring me to my knees for this man.

It’s not only a pleasure, but a motherfucking honor.

With my eyes locked on his, I crawl towards him and kneel at his feet. “What do you want?”