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God, I’m so stupid. And weak. Cole’s right—I’ve been on the back burner, and not only did I let it happen, but I did it to myself.
Raw, bitter, fresh tears start to burn my eyes. I’m not sad over losing Henry, but it’s hitting me that I lost myself. And for what? A whiny, cheating, lying, ferret of a man in clothes he can’t afford, with a job he cares about more than anyone else, and who never made me come, even with some directional coaching. Because the entire time I was with Henry, the only way I reached the ‘doorway to heaven’ was by going up the stairs and twisting the knob myself.
Somehow, Cole knows that too. He knows it all, including how lost I became.
That’s not who I am. I know better. I don’t put up with that.
But I did. It happened so gradually that I didn’t notice, and I gave him way too many chances, thinking things would be better tomorrow, next week, next month. Always better. Because there had to be a silver lining, or what was the point?
The tears fall, running silently down my cheeks. I sniffle quietly so Cole doesn’t realize that I’m falling apart, but he keeps his attention on the woods surrounding us and his dinner bowl, giving me a moment of privacy, though he’s right by my side.
It’s pitch black and completely still around us, and in his stakeout clothes, he blends into the night almost seamlessly until he speaks. “I’m gonna shower before bed.” He stands, taking his empty bowl and wine glass with him, but at the back door, he pauses and looks over at me. I can’t meet his eyes, too lost in the rambles of my own mind, but I listen when he says firmly, “A man should be willing to work his ass off to be worthy of you. You deserve nothing less, Janey.”
He doesn’t wait for a response. He simply goes inside, letting that sit on the night air. And my mind.
Alone, I force myself to eat, knowing I need it. I’m not surprised that the chicken ‘n dumplings is delicious, even cooled off. I bet Cole cooks all the time, at least for himself. Maybe even for someone special. He’s the type who would put in those efforts for his woman.
Not that I need that. Not now. I need to sit with myself and do a bit of healing, not from the breakup, but rather, from the relationship.
I finish the bowl and the whole glass of wine but don’t move to go inside. It’s nice out here, the sounds of the woods an accompanying song for my melancholy thoughts. The rustle of the leaves in the slight breeze is the melody, and there’s a frog somewhere croaking so loudly that it sounds like he’s right next to my chair, providing the haunting bass. An owl hoots, and I wonder if it’s the same one I saw in the woods by Mr. Webster’s cabin.
The door slides open, and Cole reappears, his hair wet and gray shorts slung low over his hips. His chest is bare, and I’m surprised to see just how defined his muscles are. In a purely nursing, medical sort of way, of course. He notices me looking, and one side of his mouth quirks up, like he’s not fully committed to smiling.
“I set up a bath for you. Lukewarm water and oatmeal for the itching. Come on inside,” he tells me as he takes my bowl from my hands and grabs the empty wine glass too.
Mindlessly, I follow him to the kitchen, where he drops the bowl in the sink and refills my wine glass with another heavy pour. He then guides me to the bathroom, where the tub is filled just like he said, and sets the glass next to a fluffy towel he laid out.
He thought of everything.
Cole turns to go, but I step in front of him to stop him. I drop into his arms, falling into a hug and taking the comfort I need. He freezes in shock for a moment, but then his arms rest heavily on my shoulders, keeping me grounded with their weight as he hugs me back. It’s not sexual, just solace, but my cheek pressed to the warm skin of his chest, inhaling the scent of sandalwood soap from his shower and hearing the steady thud of his heart, reminds me that I am a woman.
A sexier, stronger one than I was with Henry. One I will be again, someday, I vow.
“Thank you,” I whisper as I release him. When I look up, I half expect to see pity in his blue eyes, but they’re blankly shuttered down, giving away none of his thoughts.
“Yeah,” he rumbles. Without any more, he turns, and he’s gone.
