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“For us both,” he finally said.
I nodded as I tugged my hand free. I didn’t bother saying anything as I turned to go upstairs because it wasn’t the first time the scars of my past had ended something before it had begun. I doubted it would be the last time either.
* * *
Tuesday came much faster than I wanted it to. I hadn’t heard from Cole in the days since he’d shown up at my studio to ask me to come to the funeral, except for a text giving me the address for the cemetery. I hadn’t expected to see Cole after the coffee shop, but when I’d walked downstairs to give Mace his check for the week and saw Cole standing there, his big body stiff and unyielding but his eyes filled with agony, I’d needed to tell him he wasn’t alone. But the words had gotten stuck in my throat because they didn’t seem like enough. So I’d hugged him. And then I’d regretted it because as soon as I’d touched him, his entire body seemed to lock up and I’d been sure he was going to shove me away. But he hadn’t. Not even a little bit.
The feel of Cole’s arms around me had been both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because I’d felt like maybe, just maybe, it was Cole’s way of saying he forgave me. I’d known it was a stretch to read so much into one touch, but I’d needed something to ease the torment of knowing the pain I’d inflicted upon him. The curse came when I’d started to want more. I’d wanted the mouth that was resting against the spot where my shoulder met my neck to skim over the skin there. I’d wanted the fingers that were pressed against my back to draw me closer. I’d wanted to know that there was a place for me in his arms.
Complete and utter stupidity.
I wasn’t sure when I’d become so needy. Maybe it was something about finally being home. Maybe it was seeing the peace on Casey’s face in those quiet moments when we’d be having dinner and she’d rest her hands on her swollen belly and stare at the man and the two children who’d given her life meaning…who’d helped her find the peace in her life she’d so desperately craved. I’d accepted those were things I probably wouldn’t have, but accepting didn’t mean the wanting went away.
I shook off my maudlin thoughts as I hurried out of the gallery. Mace was just getting out of his van when I stepped out onto the sidewalk so I left the gallery unlocked. The air was awkward between us so I merely nodded to him and said, “I’m not sure what time I’ll be back.” I didn’t wait to see what his response would be because I was simply too embarrassed to spend any extended amount of time in his company. I’d had all weekend to try to get past the humiliation of knowing Mace was likely aware what had caused the scar on my wrist…that and the naked neediness he probably could see in my eyes every time I looked at him. By the time Monday rolled around, I hadn’t even bothered leaving my apartment. In fact, I hadn’t even left my bed.
I’d been lucky to find a parking spot in front of the gallery a few days earlier when I’d gotten back from having dinner with Casey and Devlin at their house in the Hamptons, but that was as far as my luck held out, because as soon as I turned the key in the ignition, the car sputtered for a moment but didn’t turn over. A few more turns just produced the same results.
“No, no, no,” I muttered as I tried the key once more, jamming it forward as much as I could as if that would somehow magically fix the car.
A tap on my window had me turning to see Mace standing there and I barely resisted the urge to drop my head on the steering wheel.
“Pop the hood, I’ll take a look,” Mace said through the window.
Several minutes of him telling me to try the engine again passed and then he was slamming the hood shut. I bit back a curse and climbed out of the car.
“Could be a couple things…the starter, a bad fuse…” Mace said.
I nodded. “Thanks for trying,” I mumbled as I glanced at my watch. If I didn’t get on the road now, I’d be late but a cab to New Haven was going to cost a fortune.
“You need a lift somewhere?” I heard Mace ask.
“Um, no, I’ll call a cab,” I said idly as I began scanning the street.
“The funeral’s today, isn’t it?”
I looked at Mace in surprise.
“Your friend…”
“Cole,” I supplied.
“I heard Cole mention it when he stopped by last week.” Mace tossed the towel he’d been using to wipe the grease from his hands into the back of his van. “Come on, I’ll give you a lift.”
