He had, and he always would put his family — Ava, now — ahead of himself. His life, his wishes, his heart were forfeit to her wellbeing. Since they were kids. This was his identity. He had to be her hero.
And heroes had to make sacrifices.
This time would be no different from last. Cole had practically come out and said that the days he’d spent with me had taken his focus away from Ava. This lapse was proof she needed his complete attention.
I knew he wouldn’t want to let me go, but he’d do it. He’d have no choice.
As I drove blindly, I swallowed against tears. Sadness rose in me like flood waters, but as I searched its the depths, I found no bitterness. I couldn’t begrudge Cole his love for his sister. His allegiance to her, his protection of her. It was what I’d first admired about him.
And I couldn’t resent Ava’s need of him. She didn’t deserve the life she’d been given. Neither of them did.
It just hurt. It hurt in a way I knew would never stop.
He would say goodbye to me. Oh, it may not sound like a goodbye. He might simply ask for time. For space. But it would be a goodbye all the same. Because he would never be free.
I knew I could lie to myself. It would be easy. I could wait for him, tell myself he’d be free to love me — free to be with me — once she was better. Another year? Another three years? But who would I be if I did that? If I abandoned myself that way.
Panic rose in my throat.
I couldn’t. Even though I loved him — and I loved Cole Whitehurst like he was the flipside of my soul. But I couldn’t tell myself to wait for a day that might never come. If no one else was going to show up for me — chose me — I needed to choose myself.
As I drove, barely holding it together, I promised myself I’d make the job ahead easy for him. Cole’s life had been hard enough. It would be hard enough for him to step away. Making it easy would be the greatest act of love I could show him.
And then I’d love him in silence for the rest of my life.
But, right now, I needed to look for Ava. She was out there, and I could only imagine that, sober or not, she probably felt awful. She probably felt defeated. She’d need a friend, and I wanted to be there for her.
Besides, the alternative was to go home, climb into bed, and wait for Cole’s inevitable call. And I shrunk from that. There would be plenty of time later to feel sorry for myself. To feel, keenly, the loss of him.
The light at Johnston and University turned red, and I found myself in front of Gerard Hall on the northwest corner of campus. It was mid-May, so the semester was over, but a few students still strolled along the sidewalks.
Even on foot, campus wasn’t far from downtown. On impulse, I decided to turn right when the light turned green. If I had found myself stranded downtown, strung out, and without a phone, campus would probably seem like safe territory to stay the night.
Of course, night had long since passed, but I didn’t have a better idea, so I turned onto Hebrard Boulevard and drove at a lazy ten miles an hour, scanning the hedges and covered walkways as I did.
“This is stupid,” I said aloud after turning left in front of the library. No matter what, Ava wouldn’t still be here. Not at midday. She had to have gone home with a friend or hooked up with someone. That logic made the most sense. Which meant I wasn’t going to find her combing the side streets of campus.
I passed the Bulldog, and I had the distinct urge to go inside and order a beer. Or five. I’d never done anything like that. Gone into a bar in the middle of the day and ordered a drink. But now seemed like the perfect time to try it.
But who was I kidding? I was actually going to sit at college bar? At noon? Talk about feeling sorry for myself.
“You’re not that pathetic,” I reasoned.
And before I could argue with myself about just how pathetic I might be, my phone rang.
Mama.
At the sight of her name, the tears I’d fought blurred my vision. I pulled over in front of Hamilton Hall. Mama often called me during my lunch break if we weren’t getting together. A crux of emotions kept me frozen. I wanted to talk to her and seek her comfort. I wanted to tell her how everything had gone wrong overnight. But I knew it would break her heart almost as much as it was breaking mine.
I sighed, wiped my eyes, and stared at the buzzing phone until the call went to voicemail.
But at once it started up again, ringing with her name on the screen. I frowned, sniffled, and answered.
“Hey, Mama,” I said, trying to sound as normal as I could.
“Elise, baby,” Mama hissed, sounding panicked. “I need you. Ava’s here at the cafe, and she’s in a bad way.”
Chapter 31
