Page 76 of Muddy Messy Love

With a nervous titter, I shrug. “Apparently. You read my school reports.”

“I’m asking you.” Cole’s eyes bore into mine, summoning a foreign feeling that pulses in my solar plexus and fills me with gold.

“I’mreallygood.”

He presses his palm to my heart. “Then people need to see it. If you love what you do—if it lightens life and helps you breathe—hold on to that when you step out. Do it only for you, then it won’t matter what they say.”

I love he didn’t deny the danger, because it’s inevitable. Not everyone will like my work, and art is always critiqued—artistsare always exposed. Their hearts hang on gallery walls and bleed on busy floors at risk of being trampled, but that’s just part of the job. I’ve been fighting that reality, willing it to be untrue as if resistance alone could change it. But that battle is futile, and it’s time to find a better way.

“I needed to hear that,” I say.

Cole plants a kiss on the tip of my cold nose, then whispers against my hair. “You won’t crash, Angel. You’ll fly.”

My heart beats a crazy rhythm. Who is this man? And what did I do to deserve him? Little old fucked-up me? A sickly feeling crawls through my chest—the one that warns me none of this makes sense. The one that stirs unease and claims sanctuary as my intuition, but I’m not sure it is. “What about you?”

“What about me?” Cole asks.

“Are you happy at Benedict’s?”

He inhales sharply, then sighs. “Honestly, before my uncle died, I was planning to leave.”

“Really?”

Cole swallows. “I wanted out, but I didn’t know how to tell him.”

“Why?” My brows furrow.

“Something was just…missing. And I was tired. Really tired.”

I ponder his words. “What about now?”

“Now I can’t bring myself to dishonour his memory. I owe him more than I’ll ever owe anyone.”

“Even yourself?” I ask.

Cole falls silent for a pregnant beat, then glances at me, quirking a brow. “You should flip some of that wisdom onto yourself.”

“True.” I smile. “But it’s so much easier to dish out.”

A moment later, he speaks again. “Gerard was only fifty-five. Heart attack. It was sudden.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, and his jaw ticks.

“So am I. More than you could know.”

Silence falls, but Cole’s features remain tense. After a minute, he squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head as if shucking off a thought.

“Do you have a big family?” I ask, but the air tightens like it’s made of elastic.

“Hannah and Ella are my family.” Cole’s clipped tone knots my stomach.

“I shouldn’t be so nosey. Sorry.”

The quilt shifts, and Cole sighs. “Don’t be. There are just certain things I don’t like to discuss.”

“Same,” I admit. “My dad, for one. To a lesser extent, Mum.” I shut down my dad’s adoring smile and fuzzy beard the second they materialise. I can’t go there tonight.

“Same,” Cole says.

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