Page 144 of Muddy Messy Love

“It was a long time ago,” Hannah says, giving me a moment to get my shit together.Fuck.Why do I feel everything as if it’s mine? Sheila wouldloveto answer that question.

Hannah continues. “But it hardened Cole. Broke something inside him that even Mum’s death didn’t. He went from open to closed—easy to uptight. Soft to hard. He fell in with the drop-kicks at school, started ditching and doing other bad things. He even spent a night in jail. Would have been longer had Uncle Gerard not stepped in.”

Holy fuck. This story sounds eerily familiar, and here I thought Cole and I were worlds apart. Me—a messy nest of scribble. Him—a perfectly sketched cube.

“After getting him out of there, Uncle Ger and Cole had a long chat. Cole told him everything about our father, and within an hour, Uncle Ger had him slammed up against our kitchen wall. He told Father if he ever touched a hair on our heads again, he’d kill him, and it worked. The drinking continued, but Cole was safe.”

I shake my head. “I had no idea.”

“I don’t think Cole’s told anyone what happened. I don’t think he can,” Hannah says airily, as if she’s floated far away. A fewlong seconds pass before she returns and finally disconnects her poor hands. “Uncle Ger took Cole under his wing after that. Steered him back on track. Helped him finish school, find a part-time job, then guided him into law and paid for his degree so he could come work at Benedict’s. Cole was Uncle Ger’s protégé, and Uncle Ger was Cole’s idol—his saviour.” Hannah smirks a little now, in that riling sibling kind of way. “It was a little pathetic, to be honest. Cole was like his lapdog.”

I huff out a laugh. “I cannot imagine that.”

“Exactly,” she says. “It was creepy. Uncle Ger said jump, Cole said how high. I mean, I get it. We both owed Ger a lot, but it’s like Cole connected his own survival to pleasing him or something.”

My belly knots. Survival mode is one I know well.

“Uncle Ger was a force. No one could believe death had the audacity to take him at fifty-five, and Cole was in a tailspin at first. He didn’t count on having to take over Benedict’s for another decade. But,” Hannah sighs, “he soon pulled himself together, grabbed the reins, and set out to do what he was groomed to do—continue Uncle Ger’s legacy.”

“Wow,” I whisper on the crest of an exhale. “That’s a lot.”

“My uncle created the man you see today. The fancy suits. The sharp legal skills. The workaholism. Cole wouldn’t be that without him. In fact, he wanted to pursue photography.”

“Really?” I ask.

Hannah smiles crookedly. “Mum even bought him a fancy camera for his thirteenth birthday and set up a darkroom in our basement. She was an artist, so she was all for it.”

My brain ticks over, sorting out all this new information and slotting it into various memories to see if the picture morphs—if the colours change. I feel for Cole. I’d assumed a man with his success must stand on solid ground and come from relative ease. I’d assumed any decisions he made, and actions he took, werechosen from the helm of his chariot, not while being dragged behind it.

“How is he?” I blurt out, no longer able to repress my need to know.

Hannah’s frown deepens from tense to troubled, and it’s a knife to my chest. “He’s not himself.”

I swallow. Hard.

“I’d hoped he’d pull himself together, and he has to an extent. But his eyes have this…emptiness, and for the first time in years, I’m worried.”

Oh fuck.

“He’d kill me if he knew I was here, but I had to do something. He was happy with you. It’s like you relit the candle inside his soul and brought the old Cole back. Do you know he left Benedict’s three weeks after you?”

“What?” I gasp.

“I know. We were all shocked. I can only assume your breakup had something to do with it.”

I wither on my stool like a dying flower. Cole left Benedict’s? He seemed so far away from that I feared he never would. But maybe, after sticking up for me, he had no choice. Maybe Thomas’s threat to destroy him was real, thereby forcing his hand. Maybe I cost him his career.

“Aves.” I snap out of my reverie and look back at Hannah to find a consoling smile. “I won’t ask you what happened. You would have told me by now if you wanted to. But please think about everything I’ve said. My brother might not be perfect, but he’s a good man, and I know he loves you. I know you loved him. What you guys had was special and real, and if you can’t make it, we’re all screwed.”

I let myself laugh a little, despite the fact my entrails are now twisted into pretzels. Everything I thought I knew has beenflipped on its head. And my resolve—my certainty that I’ve done the right thing—is crumbling.

“Just think on it,” she says.

And I will. I already am. Every sentence she spoke replays in my head. One in particular catches. “You said Cole was your dad’sfirstvictim.”

Hannah visibly flinches, and her face pales to porcelain. She shifts back and cradles her elbows, curling in on herself like a dead spider.

Oh shit. I open my mouth to retract the question, but Hannah beats me.

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