Page 65 of Only Ever His

His eyes were closed, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, and I let myself linger on the peacefulness of his expression.

Last night had been a turning point.

We’d laid everything bare—our fears, our hopes, and the shaky path forward. It wasn’t perfect, but it was honest.

Cole stirred, his hand sliding across the bed to rest lightly on my hip.

“You’re staring,” he murmured, his voice rough with sleep.

I smiled, caught in the act. “Maybe.”

His eyes opened, those deep green irises locking onto mine, and for a moment, the world outside didn’t exist.

“Good morning,” he said, his voice soft but warm.

“Good morning,” I replied, my voice just as gentle.

For a moment, we lay there in silence, the weight of the past few days hanging between us but feeling lighter somehow.

“I’ve been thinking,” I said finally, tracing a finger along the edge of the blanket. “About us.”

Cole propped himself up on one elbow, his gaze sharpening. “And?”

“I think… I’ve been so afraid of repeating the past that I didn’t see how different you are from him,” I admitted.

I continued, “You don’t try to control me, Cole. You try to protect me, and I’ve been so scared that I couldn’t see the difference.”

His jaw tightened, and he reached out to brush a strand of hair from my face.

“Tori, I would never want to take anything away from you. I know I’ve made mistakes, but—” Cole began.

“I know,” I interrupted, placing a hand on his chest. “And I’m not saying I’m not still scared. But I trust you, Cole. I want to figure this out… together.”

His expression softened, and the relief in his eyes was almost enough to bring tears to mine.

“You don’t know how much it means to hear you say that,” he told me.

“I think I do,” I said with a small smile.

The morning unfolded naturally, an unspoken agreement between us to let the day be easy, free from heavy conversations.

After we got dressed, I found myself drawn to the kitchen, an idea forming in my mind.

“Are you hungry?” I asked.

I glanced over my shoulder at Cole, who was leaning against the counter, watching me with that signature intensity.

“Starving,” he replied with a grin.

I pulled out a carton of eggs, a loaf of bread, and a few other ingredients.

Cooking had always been a way for me to clear my head, to ground myself.

Cole stepped closer, his presence a steady warmth at my back. “Need any help?”

“Are you offering?” I teased, cracking an egg into a bowl.

He chuckled. “I can manage toast. Maybe.”

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