Page 42 of The Pact

“Damian, we’ve been through this before. I know the drill. She’ll either say yes or no. We’ll go from there.”

I pause as I walk past him, wanting to add something else. I’m not sure what exactly. What more can I say or do—I’ve already begged to no avail. I shake my head and walk upstairs.

Who knows, all of this buildup could be for nothing. If it goes badly, we’re back at square one and this was a waste of time. At the end of the day, I have my brothers and that’s the most important thing.

THEA

I’ve spent every day this week in the studio with back-to-back clients. I barely have time to think about anything beyond lingerie, studio setups, and editing photos.

At least tomorrow I’ll have a day to rest. I say that, however my parents are coming to visit and that seems like more work than a back-to-back shoots at the studio.

Cole and I haven’t spent much time together this week, aside from his daily pop-ins to bring me lunch and my evening visits to the bakery for tea. I can barely stay awake during our phone calls after both of us are off of work—I even fell asleep last night while he was telling me about his day.

While I miss spending time with him, the distance has allowed me to avoid telling him about Gavin and to hide the purple bruising on my wrist.

It’s been difficult to hide it from Cassie. Days ago, I thought I’d be able to play it off that I fell in the shower. That was the genius excuse I came up with. But then the bruising appeared and the unmistakable finger marks complicated that plan.

My new solution is wearing long sleeve shirts, effectively turning me into a human sauna. After four days, I can tell Cassie and Cole are both growing suspicious of my sudden warm weather fixation.

I hear Cole’s voice from the waiting area.

All the bending and crouching with my last client, paired with the measly bowl of scrambled eggs I had for breakfast, has me feeling lightheaded. I need to eat something and sit down for a few minutes.

I walk to the front of the studio to meet him. His hands are full of bags and water bottles.

“Hey there, beautiful,” Cole says automatically as I round the corner. However, his face scrunches up when he takes me in. “You feeling alright?”

Cassie appears a second later.

“You don’t look so hot.” The back of her hand finds my forehead. “You don’t have a fever.”

The shaking and nausea come on suddenly. “I-I just need to eat something.” My blood sugar’s dropped too low.

Cassie puts her arm around my waist. “I’m going to bring her in here.” She guides me back into my room and sets me down on the velvet couch. “Jesus, you’re clammy and your hands are shaking.”

“Hello?” a voice calls out from the waiting area.

“Shit, that’s my client.” Cass looks conflicted. “I have to go. Can you take care of her?”

Cole nods. “Of course.”

“I’ll be in the room next door if she needs anything.” She stands. “Hey, you have to take care of yourself. These packed days take a toll on your body and I need you in tip top shape.” It might sound cold, but this is Cassie’s version of love—tough love.

Cole takes my hands in his. “She’s right, you’re shaking. Did you eat today?”

“Eggs. This morning.” He sits down next to me, handing me a massive bottle of water. I bring it to my lips, pulling long gulps into my mouth.

“Damian had me bring these so that you stay hydrated.” He points to three more bottles, a note is taped to one that says Drink. - Damian.

“Why the hell does he care if I’m drinking enough water?” Since his insistence on having Gavin’s name at game night and my absence from the house this week, I figured we were both pretending the other didn’t exist.

Cole’s silence and blank face make it hard to read him. Something’s up.

“I’m glad he made me bring all four. I told him it was overki—” Cole stops mid sentence, staring at me as I pull more water into my mouth. “What’s that?” His finger slips beneath the hem of my sleeve, tugging it down.

I realize what he’s staring at—my heart stops. The world becomes eerily still as I try to come up with something to tell him about the purple and blue marring my wrist. My brain refuses to cooperate.

Cole pulls my sleeve the rest of the way up my arm and inspects the damage. “Thea, what the hell happened to you? When did this happen?” The look in his pretty eyes edges on violence. He sees the same thing as me, the very clear imprint of finger shaped bruises. “Who did this to you?” The question comes out as a low growl and I watch as his eyes darken as he waits for my answer.

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