Page 48 of Broken Hearts

“Cole,” I start, my voice faltering as I look up into his eyes that hold a storm of emotions—regret, pain, hope. He takes a step closer, then seems to catch himself, a silent battle raging inside him as he fights the urge to bridge the gap between us.

The hate and need to see him burn is gone now that I know it was nothing more than a bad decision gone really wrong. It’s hard for me to resist him, and yet I must because I can never allow myself to be weak in the way I was with him again. I can never hand him the power he had over me, and I don’t trust myself not to.

His hand lifts, and his thumb brushes ever so lightly against the seam of my lips. The touch is featherlight, yet it sends a shock wave through me. “It should have been me with you on that bridge. Not him,” he murmurs, his breath mingling with mine. “You should never have been on that bridge at all.”

The air between us is charged, heavy with unspoken words and unfulfilled desires. His face inches closer, and I know it would only take the slightest tilt of my head, the barest whisper of movement, to close the gap between us.

But I can’t. I can’t fall back into him, into us. Not now, not when I’m still piecing myself back together.

“No, I shouldn’t have,” I agree, my voice barely audible. My heart pounds in my chest, a frantic drumbeat urging me to give in, to lose myself in him once more. But with every ounce of strength I possess, I step back, breaking the spell that has always bound us together.

His shoulders slump, a silent admission of defeat. He steps back, putting space between us, a physical manifestation of the distance I need.

“I’ll see you back at Silverbrook?” His question is laden with hope, a faint glimmer in his eyes that I can’t bear to extinguish.

“Yes, see you then,” I reply, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside me.

He hesitates for a moment as if he wants to say more, but then he simply nods and turns to leave.

Watching him walk away with so many emotions churning inside me brings relief that he’s respecting my need for space, but also a lingering sadness, a sense of what could have been—and what still might be. It’s confusing, and I hate that a part of me still responds to him so strongly.

Closing the door behind him, I lean against it, taking a deep breath to steady myself. The house feels quieter now, his absence almost palpable.

I head back to the kitchen, where Susan and my father are busy setting the table. They both look up as I enter, and I force a smile.

“Everything okay?” Susan asks, her eyes searching mine for something I’m not sure I can explain.

“Yeah, it’s fine. Cole left,” I respond, trying to sound casual.

My father grunts, clearly not a fan of Cole’s unexpected visit. Susan gives me a knowing look, a silent acknowledgment that she understands there’s more to it than that.

The doorbell chime cuts through the tension, offering a welcome interruption. “That must be Max,” I murmur, more to myself than anyone, as I make my way to the door.

When I open the door, Max stands there, a bottle of wine in hand and a warm smile on his face. “Hope I’m not too early,” he greets me, his voice carrying a hint of his usual playfulness.

“No, you’re right on time,” I assure him, stepping aside to let him in. There’s a comfort in his presence, a steadiness that I find myself leaning into, especially now.

As I take his jacket, he looks at me with a sincerity that’s become a cornerstone of our friendship. “I’m sorry, little one, truly,” he says, his eyes reflecting a genuine concern. “I…” He shakes his head, searching for the right words. “I guess certain people just push my buttons.”

Understanding his struggle, I manage a small smile. “It’s a Cole thing. He has a talent for triggering people.” The attempt at humor feels a bit strained, but Max’s slight chuckle tells me it’s appreciated.

The tension in his shoulders eases as he relaxes. In a gesture that’s become a comforting routine, he pulls me into a hug, his presence enveloping me in a sense of safety.

“It had to be done,” I whisper, my voice muffled on his chest. “Maybe not in the way I would have liked, but he needed to know.”

We pull apart as Susan calls out from the kitchen, her voice laced with excitement. “Dinner’s almost ready!”

Max gives me a reassuring nod before heading toward the kitchen, his usual confident stride back in place.

As we sit down to dinner, the conversation flows easily, filled with laughter and light-hearted banter. Max fits in seamlessly, his charm and wit a welcome addition to the table. It’s a pleasant evening, one that almost lets me forget the turmoil brewing inside me.

As the night draws to a close and Max says his goodbyes, the reality of my situation settles back in. The house feels emptier, quieter. I find myself at the window, staring out into the darkness, my thoughts a whirlwind of confusion and longing.

Cole’s visit, his words, stirred something in me that I can’t quite name. There’s a part of me that yearns for the comfort of what we once had, the intense connection that seemed unbreakable. But there’s another part, stronger and more determined, that knows I can’t go back to that. Not now, not when I’m unsure I can see past the hurt when I look at him, not until I’m sure the resentment won’t linger every time I try to pick up a violin and can’t play. And also, not until I know for certain that I can survive the ugliest part of him.

Chapter 19

Eva

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