Page 42 of Stay

“You know, you never even asked me about my pretend boyfriend.”

His attention snaps back to me. A dark eyebrow lifts and he looks downright possessive. “You got a story for that fake motherfucker?”

“I never said he was fake. I said he was pretend.”

Cole tilts his head. “There’s a difference?”

“Absolutely.”

He crosses his arms. “Okay then. Tell me about him.”

Is Cole jealous right now? How adorable.

“He’s really sweet.” I stuff my hands in the front pocket of his hoodie. “And he’s a really good basketball player, too.”

Cole’s eyes narrow. “Sounds like someone I know.”

“He’s super funny.” I crook my middle and forefinger. “He’s also a self-proclaimed flip cup champion.”

His shoulders collapse a little.

“Hella smart. Hella sexy. Has a successful career as an architect.”

Cole’s body seems to grow with every breath he struggles to take. “This pretend guy got a name?”

“Cole. He’s on Insta if you want to see pics.”

He doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t move. Hell, I don’t even think he’s blinked throughout this whole conversation. “So, this Cole guy thought it was okay to just…” He saunters closer to me. “Leave the love of his life in another part of the fucking country all this time?”

“That was my choice,” I assure him, running my hands up his arms to curl around his neck. “He fought me about it, but in the end gave me what I wanted. What I needed.”

He makes this choking noise that sounds like I just broke his heart a little bit. Or maybe that’s my own heart I hear cracking in half. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t able to be what you deserved then, Cole. And I’m sorry I didn’t come to you and tell you everything before I left.”

He shakes his head. “No more saying sorry, Haley.” His gaze drags down my body, landing on the faded logo of the hoodie. “We’re right where we belong now.”

I hope he’s right.

“And never think for a second that you were ever undeserving, Haley, of me or of anything else you’ve ever wanted.”

We’ll probably never see eye-to-eye about that, but I appreciate him saying it. He means it, which helps me fortify the mental and emotional work I’ve done on myself.

“You’re home to me, Cole.”

The way his expression softens lets me know he understands what I’m saying.

I’ve never had a home before. Not one that lasted more than a year, and never one that was truly mine. He also knows that I’ve lived in a car, a tent, on other people’s couches, and in disgusting rentals growing up. Outside of a public library, my dorm room was the closest thing I’d had to a safe place to rest my head at night.

Hell, I didn’t know what a home was until I spent Thanksgiving with Cole’s family senior year. I’d broken down in the car on the way back to campus and confessed that I wanted what he has.

A family.

Roots.

I just had no clue how to attain any of it.

And I wasn’t worthy.

Back then, Cole consoled me, but it was something he couldn’t relate to. I’m glad. I wouldn’t wish my upbringing on my worst enemy. Looking back, that Thanksgiving trip to his family’s home was a tipping point for me. I felt like garbage in the center of a sanctuary. Cole’s world and mine didn’t belong in the same galaxy. Nothing he said could change my mind about it.

---