Page 102 of Muddy Messy Love

“No!” I jump to my feet and follow him. “Please don’t. This is a fucked-up coincidence, I’ll give you that, but don’t do anything dumb.”

He stills at the island as if my words doused the fire, and for a sweet second, I’m relieved. But slowly Cole turns to face me, his jaw slack. Rapidly, he blinks. “You actually think this is a coincidence?”

“Of course. What else would it be?”

He stares at me like I’ve fallen off an imaginary pedestal. “I never considered you that naïve.”

His words sting, and I flinch. Crossing my arms, I frown. “You think Slade planned this? He’s not that calculated—or smart.”

Cole whips his wallet and keys up from the island, then rips his suit jacket from where it hangs on the dining room chair. “He’s a career criminal who’s only spent thirty days in an adult prison. That indicates some strategic competence. He certainly doesn’t have the damn money to buy his way out of trouble.”

Cole grips the back of his neck and stares at the island for a tense moment, but his arm soon falls limp at his side, and he looks at me again. “You know, at least you’re not the only one you underestimate, I guess.” And with that, he takes off.

The air seems to part in his wake, rippling an icy breeze across my skin. “Cole, wait.” My phone sounds again from the studio, but I ignore it and give chase. I picture him in jail—or worse yet, hurt—in hospital—dead. I don’t imagine Slade plays fair. Going after him is a bad idea.

My bare feet slap against the cold tiles as I sprint through the gallery. “Please, I’m begging you, don’t go.”

Cole yanks open the front door, then stills with a sigh, scrubbing a hand down the side of his face. Our eyes meet, and I latch onto the glimmer of softness still in them. “I don’t expect you to understand, but Hannah is my responsibility. If I don’t look after her, no one will.” He holds my gaze for a few beats with sad eyes and then severs our connection. The door slams shut, and half my soul leaves with him. The other half slides down the gallery wall and slumps to the tiles. Tears tumble down my cheeks, painting spots on my jeans, while angry tyres screech, then fade.

Shit. Could I lose him over this?

Dread thrashes through my body like a werewolf in chains, but there’s nothing to be done. My happiness rests in Cole’s livid hands, and I have zero control.

God, I need to hit something—throw something.Hurt. Fucking. Something.

I drag myself to my feet and head for my studio but stop dead at the laser-cut sign on the door. The fragile spark of worth that lives inside my heart begs me not to go in there.Don’t ruin everything good you’ve created, it says.

I heed its wisdom and instead snatch up my phone and stomp to my bedroom. The bed springs squeak when I land face down and even more when I kick, scream, and throttle the pillows until every ounce of helpless frustration leaves my bones. Then I inhale Cole’s heady scent from the covers, grab my phone, and do the only thing I can. I call him. As expected, he doesn’t answer. I hang up and stare at my phone, willing him to call back. He doesn’t, but Hannah’s messages persist.

Hannah:

Have you done it yet? You’re killing me here.

Hannah:

I wonder if he likes kids. Can you tell by someone’s voice?

Hannah:

Grrr. Why are you leaving me on read? It’s rude!

Hannah:

Oh no. It’s bad, isn’t it? What happened? Just tell me. I’m wearing my big girl panties. I can take it.

Fuck.

My thumbs fly over the keyboard, and I do the only thing I can.Lie.

Me:

Sorry for the delay. No answer. No voicemail. I’ll try again later xx

The jingling sound of keys drifts up the stairs. Mum’s home early.

Double fuck.

I wipe my eyes, then dart from my bed to the mirror, but hiding evidence of this clusterfuck is impossible. My eyes are bloodshot, my face puffy and pale. I’m a goddamn mess. A mess who’d give anything to fall into loving arms and sob until there’s nothing left. But Mum’s arms are full of razor-sharp strings and soul-destroying expectations. They haven’t been a soft place to fall since I was ten. And even then, Dad’s were where I typically fell. He was my safe haven—a solid, tranquil refuge to Mum’s perpetual storm. My sage, protector, and soul mate all melded into one.

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