AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Do I even want to know how you found me?” I asked.
“Don’t you remember supplying me with your weekly itinerary? Dates and times. I even knew what you’d be wearing. Remind me to restock on gin.” He winked, pleased with himself.
I vaguely remembered him weaseling my schedule out of me, now that he mentioned it. I held his comfy sofa responsible for my loose lips—deep enough to accommodate two men of our size, and the alcohol he all but jammed down my throat. I’d woken up with my nose pressed to his Adam’s apple, like I used to, even before we were…more.It vibrated with his soft snores and never failed to drag me into a bottomless slumber. He’d slept with a proprietary fist in my hair, holding me to him, like he used to do, even before we were more.
We were forced to be brothers, then all too willing friends, then something else entirely. What were we doing now? What were we becoming? And who were we fooling with it?
“Three days.” He wiggled his fingers to punctuate his point. “It’s been three days since you left me asleep on my sofa without so much as a blanket thrown over me. And I haven’t heard a peep from you.”
“First of all,” I said, “that thing is a cloud, not a sofa. Nothing has the right to be that comfortable. And secondly, it’s been two days.”
“So you’ve been counting,” he said, his sea blue eyes bright with victory.
“I see you’re still incorrigible,” I quipped, unable to keep the zing from my tone.
Cole’s gaze turned worrisome as he noticed the grime on my clothes and the folded tables and chairs stacked in the corners.
“Where do you want these, Mr. Jasper?” one of the youth volunteers from Sofia’s organization asked. The box in his arms overflowed with table linens.
“Set it along the stage for now, Jimmy. Once the tables are up, you and Camille can work on dressing them.”
“You’re all responsible for getting this place together for the charity event?” Cole asked incredulously, taking in the scope of the rented hall once more. “Don’t you have hired people who can do this?”
“The professionals will come in and add the glitz and glam before the red carpet is rolled out, but hard work builds character. A good lesson for the kids.”
“Does hard work have to equate tomanualwork?”
“I don’t expect you to understand, Mr. Businessman. The rest of us don’t mind getting our hands dirty,” I said, baiting him.
Without another word, Cole dramatically removed his expensive wool coat, tossing it carelessly onto the mountain of boxes, then began the process of removing his cufflinks and hiking up his sleeves. “Getting dirty is my specialty,Mr. Jasper.Or have you forgotten?” he said sinfully. My cheeks boiled from the inside out.
“You can start by setting up the tables and chairs,” I said, clearing my throat.
“Easy enough,” he mused. “You never did say which cause you guys were raising money for.”
“Innocent Bystanders. It’s a charity that helps pay for prosthetics and other medical services for families left physically and mentally affected by acts of violence in some way. Hit and runs, domestic violence, shootings…”
Cole circled slowly, only now registering the slew of young amputees pitching in however they could. “I’ll have Leland move the rest of my meetings today,” he said, getting to work, while I bit back the snarky remark on my tongue. I’d need to get over my issue with his assistant.
It was well into late evening when we finished, and I waited by the exit for Cole as Sofia spoke animatedly at him. She’d intercepted him on his way to me. Probably converting him to a serial activist, knowing her. Whatever they talked about, he seemed genuinely interested in the topic.
Daniel would’ve pretended to care while searching for a way out. It wasn’t his fault, though. It’d been ingrained in him to see things in terms of mutual gain. Deacon Ward would’ve had a stroke to learn his son was volunteering. Daniel’s father didn’t see the benefit in helping others if it didn’t in turn elevate your status in some way, professionally or financially. Daniel had told me on several occasions I’d made a great difference in his life. I’d seen the small changes over the years we’d been together. Patience and understanding were key with my husband.
Sofia finally came up for air, and allowed Cole to leave. Behind his back she made the throat-slitting gesture at me, then blew me a kiss. I’d need to get my knee pads ready for the level of groveling she’d require to gain her forgiveness.
“This is why you decided to go to law school?” he asked, striding toward me until we were only inches apart. I stepped away under the guise of needing room to slip into my coat. I wasn’t strong enough to handle being so close, yet. Not while sober at least.
“Yeah. She tried to do both for a while, but all areas were suffering because of it. So now, I tackle the courtroom, and she spends her time laying groundwork.”
He gripped my elbow, moving in close again, this time making sure I couldn’t escape. “Thank you, again. For this,” he gestured around us, “and for letting me back in. Thank you.”
I couldn’t say he was welcome, because I didn’t want to let him in. I didn’t want to love having him around. I didn’t want to miss having him in my corner. I also couldn’t fight him on it, because I lacked the strength needed to fight a connection so strong, which was ultimately why I’d ended up agreeing to hang out at his place the other day. I couldn’t push him away if he was intent on pushing back for a place to stay, because I didn’t hate him. I hated myself for what I did to him, for what I was still doing to him. For what I’d done to all of us.
It would’ve been so much easier if I had hated him. And after our talk the other night I realized I envied his ability to live in spite of his guilt. To go for what he wanted, consequences be damned, and not lose a wink of sleep behind it. Especially since the death of my mother had triggered the trauma he’d carried around for the tragic death of his own mother, and the role he incorrectly believed he’d played in it. It was obvious he’d taken the time and done the self-work needed to be okay in the face of what happened to us.
I’d never get there. My mother and I had been all each other had for so long, and I’d promised to always take care of her. I would never forgive myself, or give up my carefully constructed life of penance. I should’ve known better. The responsibility to know better rested on my back. So no, the fault wasn’t Cole’s, or my mother’s sickness, or the universe, or even God.
It was mine.
