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“What’s wrong?” Remi asks.
“Nothing, I’m fine. But I should probably go find him before he does any more damage.”
“Just be careful, okay? I know how hard it is to love a Jagger. And I fear Cole is the darkest of the bunch.”
She’s not wrong about that.
“I can handle Cole, Remi.” I ignore her comment about loving a Jagger, because that’s not what Cole and I share.
Isn’t it? I push the confusing thought down with all the other shit I’d rather not think about.
“Do you really think we’d let you do this if we didn’t think you could?” She offers me another sad smile. “Go, help him. If you need anything—"
“I’ve got it, thanks.”
As I walk away, I feel Remi’s eyes follow. I want to believe that she’s right, that Cole needs me. But as I climb the stairs, the thud thud thud of my heart in my chest is a harsh reminder th
at nothing about me and Cole Jagger is simple.
And the secrets we both keep might just destroy us.
The door to his bedroom is ajar, so I slip inside. I don’t expect to find Cole half-naked, checking his cuts and bruises in the mirror. He doesn’t acknowledge me at first, and it stings, knowing he can dismiss what he feels for me so easily.
My eyes run over his body, lingering on the dragon tattoo that snakes along one side of his ribs and curves around his back. There’s a wicked looking moon nestled in the tail, all angry blues and silvers, and I want nothing more than to trace my fingers over the stunning artwork.
“You’re the moon and Conner’s the sun. Why?” I’ve seen Conner’s version of the tattoo.
“You know why,” Cole replies without lifting his head.
Placing the first aid kit on the dresser, I approach him, unable to resist the urge to reach out and trail my fingers over his warm skin. “It’s beautiful.”
“You have a warped perception of beauty, Dove.”
Not Little Dove.
Just Dove.
I want to ask why he’s changed his nickname for me again, but I swallow the question because Cole’s glaring at me through the mirror as if my sole purpose on earth is to torture him.
Our eyes hold, the connection between us crackling like a live wire. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Dove,” he says quietly.
“I’m not playing, Cole. I’m here to help.”
“Help... you want to help me.” He finally turns on me, snagging my hand and keeping it pressed to his ribs. “There’s only one thing I need from you.” He sneers the words, but I don’t cower. Cole needs this. He needs to feel in control when everything else around him is falling apart.
I know, because I needed it too once. Now... now I don’t know what I need. Everything is confusing and the lines are blurred.
Especially when they come to Cole Jagger.
I swallow, averting my eyes. Everything about him is so... much, that I need to sever the connection for a second.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he murmurs, and I’m almost certain I hear a beat of sadness in his voice.
Grabbing the first aid kit, I pull out a wipe and some gauze. “This is becoming a habit,” I say, trying to break the awkward silence that has descended over us. But Cole remains silent, letting me clean up his cuts. When I’m almost done, I let out a weary sigh.
“Who’s Donny, Cole?” I start to dab his final cut, the one in the pillow of his bottom lip, but he grabs my hand, a low growl vibrating in his chest.
“Someone you never need to know about.” His eyes darken.
