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Jesus, is this what Cole has to put up with?
I swallow it all down and hand him back the cup because he’s standing in front of me like a drill sergeant. He feels my forehead and cheeks, looks in my eyes, checks me out all over. Cole stands a foot back and watches, his eyes worried and following Liam’s movements.
“You’re a wuss,” Liam finally announces.
“What?”
“You’re dehydrated and pale and exhausted. Buck up, buttercup. When’s the last time you ate?”
Cole snickers behind him like this is funny.
“I don’t know, yesterday, I guess?” I’ve been so busy, the tires, the last minute airplane tickets, buying a suitcase and the things I needed for this trip because I still don’t have any of my belongings.
He shakes his head at me like he’s disappointed with my non-existent exercise and nutrition plan. “I’ll go get you some food. The drink help?”
I nod, hesitant to admit that his sludge water did, in fact, make me feel better.
He closes the door on the way out, and I’m left alone with Cole.
My moment of truth is upon me, the situation I could not predict or plan for. I have no strategy, no contingency plan, no flow chart outlining possible decisions.
“I don’t know where to start,” I tell him.
He rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands, then gets me some of his dry clothes out of his closet. He silently slips an Imperium hoodie over me and helps me into a pair of sweatpants.
“Are you mad?” I ask. I know he is, of course, he is. If I had scripted this all out in my mind, as usual, I would have had a better line to start with.
“Yes, I’m mad,” he answers.
“I’m mad, too.”
There’s a moment of silence.
“What do you want, Emily? What do you really want?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “I’m so confused.”
“Confused about me, or the situation?”
“Both.” I wish he would touch me, hold me, but he’s leaning against his desk watching me, his eyes dark and flickering between mine.
“I’m sorry I said such terrible things to you,” I tell him. “No matter what happens, I am sorry for that. I didn’t mean it.”
“What do you mean ‘whatever happens?’”
I wave between the two of us, “I mean whatever happens with us. You’re mad, I’m mad, I don’t know.”
“I love you, Em, but you’re pissing me off,” he lets out a big sigh.
“Why? I’m just being honest.”
“No, you’re not. You know as well as I do that there is no ‘whatever happens.’ You know the outcome here as well as I do.”
“No, I don’t.”
He moves in front of me, bends down and puts his hands on my knees, looking me in the eyes, “Then tell me what it will take to get through to you. Fucking tell me, and I will do it.”
“How do I ever trust you again? Can you make me do that?”
