Page 106 of Muddy Messy Love

“I’m joking, Angel. Don’t worry. I’m no idiot. He hit me first. I made sure of it.”

My frown doesn’t dissipate. Soon I’ll have a permanent line like him. “How?”

Cole flashes a shit-eating grin, and his emerald eyes sparkle. “I told him how sweet your pussy tastes when you come on my tongue.” Fire engulfs my face, and Cole dissolves into laughter. “There they are. My favourite hyper-colour cheeks.”

Savouring the break in tension, I shake my head and reluctantly smile, but Cole’s laughter soon dies off. His long limbs slump heavy, and the air turns sombre and funeral thick. He’s an emotional roller coaster. The Wild Turkey Express.

He stares over my shoulder in silence with a pained expression, sadness seeping from his skin. “I failed her again. I always fail her. I try to protect her. I try my best, but people always hurt her.” A tear runs down his bruised cheek, disappearing into the maze of dark stubble, and mine flood in response.

I want to ask a million questions—now’s the time I’d get answers—but I won’t take advantage of him. He’s broken. A gleaming skyscraper reduced to rubble, and in some ways, I was the bomb.

Wincing, I climb into his lap and kiss his forehead. “I’m so sorry this happened.”

Filled with warmth, Cole’s pale gaze finds mine. “I don’t deserve you, Miss Masters.”

I roll my eyes. “It’s the other way around. Why can’t you see that? You see everything else with those X-ray eyes.” I playfullypoke his shoulder and smirk, desperate to bring back levity, but he doesn’t follow my lead. Instead, Cole frowns.

“No. I’m going to lose you. It’s only a matter of time. There are things I can’t change.” He cups my neck with his free hand, stroking my bottom lip with his thumb, then shakes his head. “I should have walked away.”

The drunken words settle like an anchor in the pit of my stomach. He should have walked away? From what exactly?Me? I ignore my own questions and the flourishing doubt. He’s drunk. Unlikely to have slept a wink. In this state, nothing he says should be taken seriously.

“My uncle screwed me,” he sighs, flopping back against the headrest. “He left me everything, including his shit. He was meant to be all good. He saved us. But there’s no such thing. Everyone has a dark side. Some just hide it really well.” The bottle drops to the ground, and a splash hits the carpet before soaking in.

I shake away his ominous words and climb to my feet, coaxing his heavy arm over my shoulders. “You need to sleep this off. Let’s get you to bed.”

His dark chuckle rattles through the room. “Think you can carry my weight, Angel? You can’t. You’re too innocent. You’ll break, and it will be all my fault.”

Swallowing the billiard ball now lodged in my throat, I hoist him up. “I’m already broken, remember?” I mumble the words to my chest, quiet enough for him not to hear.

Step by stumbling step, I guide us through the hallway and into Cole’s bedroom. My stomach churns like it’s stuck in a wash cycle, or as though I’m the one who’s downed a bottle of bourbon. This man is so far from the one I know—the one I feel safe with. Why do I seem to poison those I love?

Love.

The thought flows effortlessly like only truth can. I love this man. I love him when he’s shiny and tall and when he’s messy and small. I love him whether he’s safe or not, and that paints a target on my damaged heart and hands him a bow and arrow.

Cole falls onto the mattress, taking me with him. The springs squeak as we land on our backs, panting at the ceiling. I roll to my side, weave my legs through his, and press my lips to the undamaged side of his mouth, breathing in the heady cocktail of bourbon, mud, and blood yet somehow finding comfort.

When I pull back, Cole’s face is grim. He catches my hand, threads our fingers together, and frowns. “Promise you won’t leave me. No matter what.Please.” The plea rides an undercurrent of doom with rippling red sails, and I stop breathing.

What the actual fuck?

Untangling myself, I sit up off the side of the bed to gather my wits. That’s it. This cryptic bullshit needs to end. I whip my head around to look down at him. “Why are you worried about that?”

Cole groans and rolls to press his face into the dirty covers. I wait for his answer, despite an army of questions wanting to charge from my mouth, but one doesn’t come. Instead, his breaths even out, and a soft snore caresses the air.

Damn it.

I stare at my knees, wringing my hands, as his words stir up a whirlpool of panic.

He’s drunk, Avery. Let it go. Not everything is about you, remember?

With a heavy sigh, I rub my stinging eyes with the heels of my palms. My bones ache from the twenty-hour drama marathon. I’ve reached that bittersweet point where even I’m too exhausted to analyse and dissect. And to be honest, I don’t want to. Cole might hold a bow and arrow, but I won’t help him aim or watch him shoot. At least not until I’ve slept.

Twenty-One

Warm fingers feather throughmy hair, prompting my eyes to flicker open.

“Hey,” Cole says, appearing like an apparition sitting at the edge of the bed. The bruising to his cheek is angrier, and the delicate skin of his rosy lip strains to hold the split together.

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