Page 103 of Bad & Bossy

I was terrified to look at his face, to see the ways in which I’d broken him reflecting back at me, but he was still Cole when he pulled away. Cole, but a little more tarnished. “I’m sorry,” I rasped.

He steeled his jaw as he reached for the door handle, wrapping his fingers around it like he had done to me. “I get it,” he said, but I wasn’t sure he did.

A cry cut through the heaviness of the air, and Cole’s head whipped toward my bedroom, his mouth parting. We both froze, locked in place, until he broke and his fingers released the handle, one foot turning in that direction.

I caught him by the wrist before he could try.

“No,” I said, and his head dropped, his hair falling into his face.

He didn’t even fight me.

He let out a shuddered breath, his chest shaking, and before I could change my mind, he was out the door and down the driveway.

I wanted to take it back for Cole’s sake. Wanted to tell him that it was fine and he could tend to Drew, that he could be in our lives again, only if it ensured he wouldn’t make one slip-up turn into two. But that was selfish, and Drew was crying, and the mom in me took over before I could follow him out into the black of night and stop him from irrevocably changing all of our lives for the worse.

Chapter 37

Cole

One Year Later

The sun had just barely begun its descent over the tops of the Rocky Mountains as I shut my planner and my laptop, deciding that I’d done more than enough work for one day.

The date wasn’t as jarring to me as I thought it would be. One year completely sober was one thing—a thing I was thoroughly and desperately proud of—but it was also Drew’s second birthday.

One year ago today, I’d woken up with one of the worst hangovers of my life after drinking myself stupid in my hotel room, the fear of missing his first birthday driving me to the bottle. But the moment it hit midnight, I’d regretted every sip. I’d vomited across the floor of the bathroom. I’d called Gray and told him I’d fucked up. I’d picked myself up and started again, telling myself it was one slip-up, and I couldn’t be so hard on myself. I told myself I’d handle it if and when another came.

But it never did.

I’d been close the night I left Dana’s. I’d bought a bottle, I’d sat on my bed and stared at it for upwards of an hour, but in the end, I didn’t even call my sponsor. I dumped it down the drain.

The temptation to swing by her house on my way and try my luck again was overwhelming, but I had plans tonight, and I needed to not dwell on her.

She’ll come to you if she changes her mind, my therapist had said.

And if she doesn’t? I’d asked.

Then you can’t let the hold she has on you decide your future.

I’d done my best to take it to heart. I was staying sober mostly for myself now. I’d never felt better, sans the brief periods of relief with Dana. I’d tried not to let her mailed checks for the hospital bill get under my skin, no matter how many times we played the back-and-forth game of me returning it to its sender only for it to show up again. I told myself every day that she’d likely moved on, and although it hurt every time, it helped keep the temptation at bay.

A knock sounded on my door as I stuffed my laptop into my bag. The secretary I’d hired just weeks ago stuck her head in, her braided blonde hair falling over one shoulder. “Uh, there’s a kid downstairs asking to see you.”

My heart leaped out of my fucking chest for a split second before remembering Drew was only two and if he was downstairs asking for me, he’d be both a prodigy and a liability.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Did he say who he is?” I asked.

“He said his name was Hayden.”

Well, fuck.

“Let him up.”

I collapsed into my seat, partially dumbfounded and partially impressed. Hayden and Harley. I’d done a bit of digging when I first sobered up, looked into the life my parents were leading and who those teenagers they’d had with them were. Twins, but fraternal. He’d be, what, fifteen now? Sixteen, maybe.

Why the hell had he come all the way from Bali to Boulder?

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