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Her head falls. If she were any closer, her forehead would rest on mine. “I can't stay here in this house alone, Cole. Can't be in this town where everyone hates me for things they don't even understand. I can't be here. I can't—“ A sob bursts free from her throat, cutting her off.
Pulling her into my lap is an action I do without thought.
I splay a hand across her spine, the other finding its way to the back of her head and guiding her face to the crook of my neck. She buries herself in there, tears like rainfall streaming down her cheeks and onto my skin. As if she were a child, I rock her back and forth, comforting her with whispered promises I don't know if I can keep.
Everything's going to be okay.
It isn't long before she pulls away, shifting off my lap and onto the floor, her eyes downcast and cheeks flushed. “Sorry, I don't know why that happened.” She wipes at her face with the back of her hand. “That's the first time I've cried since he died.”
I try not to let my shock at that statement show on my face. Try harder still not to ask the hundreds of questions now swarming in my head. There are several things that have happened over the past two weeks that have seemed unusual to me. Cryptic comments, mostly. Thea's dry eyes at the funeral. Her general demeanor since she's been home. I figured that everyone wears their grief differently, but this is the first time I've considered that maybe there's more to Thea's and Bobby's relationship than I knew.
“Hey, Thea?”
“Yeah?”
“You got anyone to look after you back in LA?” I ask gently, missing the feel of her body in my arms. “Aiden, maybe?” It physically hurts me to mention her boyfriend, but I force myself to grit my teeth and bear it.
She shakes her head, sniffling.
“So, you're just gonna be on your own?”
She nods, as if that's not the most preposterous idea I've ever heard.
“Yeah, that's not fucking happening.”
“What?” Her bloodshot eyes widen.
“I said, 'That's not happenin'. Grab your bag.” I motion with my head toward the bed where she left her duffel.
“Why?”
“We're gonna go find your mama.”
“And I need my bag for that because…?” She's sassing me, but it doesn't stop her from doing what she's told.
“Because then, princess,” I say with a wry smile, “you're coming back to my place.”
It took lesspersuasion than it probably should have for Cole to convince me to stay at his place. In fact, I put up very little resistance at all.
But as we stood talking to my mother about her plans to stay at my grandmother's, I realized that I was facing three options:
One, stay here alone in the house where I was raised, haunted by memories of the life I lost six years ago. Two, fly back to LA, where everyone cares more about what they can gain from me rather than what's in my heart. Or three, agree to stay at Cole's place.
The last option may mean having to deal with my ex yelling at me every damn day until I go back to California, but at least I'd have company. At least I wouldn't be on my own.
And in that moment, it hit me that the prospect of Cole's wrath wasn't nearly as abhorrent as the thought of returning to my empty apartment alone. It wasn't anywhere near as scary as the silence that awaited me on the other end of that flight.
So, I agreed.
Which brings me to now. Standing in the entryway to Cole's small but comfortable condo, I wonder briefly if I've made the right call. Here, it's impossible to escape his oaky scent that hangs from every particle in the air, every miniscule molecule of dust.
Though, truthfully, I haven't tried very hard to escape it. Even now, I have his flannel shirt wrapped around my shoulders that still hasn't lost the smell of him despite how much I've worn it.
“There are two bedrooms, but I haven't made up the guest room yet,” Cole tells me, leading me through a hallway with a number of doors leading off from it. He pauses outside of one, his hand resting on the handle. “So, you can stay in mine tonight and I'll take the couch.”
“What? I can't let you do that.”
“Would you rather I sleep in there with you?” he asks with an amused cock of his eyebrow.
