Page 60 of You, Me, and Lucky Number 13

The kitchen’s empty, the remnants of our dinner a silent testament to the shattered peace that had hung between us earlier. The air is thick with the lingering scents of garlic, tomatoes, and fresh betrayal.

I find Cole in the living room, sprawled on the couch with a book in his hand, his brow furrowed in concentration. He looks… peaceful. Domestic. Infuriatingly at ease.

The sight of him, so relaxed, so oblivious to the turmoil he’s unleashed, sends a fresh wave of anger crashing over me. This just won’t do.

“Who is this bitch?” I snarl, my voice shaking with barely contained rage. I shove my phone in his face, the picture of Cole and the blonde blazing from the screen like a beacon of betrayal. “And why is she draped all over you if I’m supposed to be your fake girlfriend?”

Cole’s head snaps up, his eyes widening with surprise. He practically yanks the phone from my hand, squinting at the image. For a moment, his expression is unreadable, then I see the moment a flicker of recognition dawns in his eyes.

“Where did you get this?” His voice is sharp, his gaze fixed on mine with an intensity that makes my stomach clench.

“Who cares where it came from?” I shoot back, my voice laced with a venom that surprises even me. “Just tell me who she is!”

“It’s… an old picture,” he says slowly, his brow furrowing. “From a sponsor event. Three years ago.”

“Three years ago?” The anger that had been fueling my righteous indignation sputters out, replaced by a wave of something akin to relief. “So, she’s not… your latest conquest?”

“Conquest?” Cole’s lips twitch, a hint of a smile breaking through his guarded expression. “Seriously, Lola? You think I’m some kind of prize-winning stallion, collecting trophies and women every time I leave the house?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” I retort, but the heat in my cheeks betray my bravado. “It’s not exactly a secret that women flock to you.”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair, the gesture both familiar and infuriatingly attractive. “Look, Lola, there’s not a lot I can do about that. Yes, there was a time I loved the attention, but that was before the losing streak, before the bad press, before…”

He trails off, his gaze meeting mine, a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes.

“Before me,” I finish, the words a soft whisper.

The silence stretches between us, thick with unspoken truths, with the weight of our shared past, with the fragile hope that had just begun to blossom, only to be crushed by a single, carefully timed photograph.

“So,” Cole finally breaks the silence, his voice quieter now, more thoughtful. “Who sent you this?”

“Does it matter?” I ask, the anger returning, fueled by a fresh wave of suspicion. “Someone’s clearly trying to sabotage us. To drive a wedge between us. And it’s working.”

Cole’s eyes narrow, a dangerous glint replacing the earlier vulnerability. “You’re right, it is working, but you’re wrong about it not mattering. It does matter. This isn’t a game anymore, Lola. I told you I loved you, and I meant it. We’re a team. And someone’s trying to take us down. We need to figure out who it is.”

All the fight drains out of me. Hemeantwhat he said. This isn’t fake anymore. Not a publicity stunt, not a calculated move to appease sponsors or manipulate the media. It’s raw, it’s real, and it’s terrifyingly beautiful.

It’s hard to let go of the hurt of the past, to forget the sting of his betrayal, to trust in the solidarity ofus. But I know him. Truly, I always have. Even when I hated him, even when I swore I'd never forgive him, a part of me—a stubborn, foolish part—held on to the memory of the boy who’d stolen my heart all those years ago. It’s time to keep the past where it belongs… in our rearview. Pun totally intended.

“I meant it, too.” I look up at him through my lashes, my gaze softening, the anger melting away, replaced by a tenderness I can’t quite conceal. “I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions. Everything is still a little raw.”

His hand reaches out, his fingers gently tracing the line of my jaw, his touch sending shivers down my spine. “I get it. I messed up. Royally. But I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere.”

His words, spoken with a sincerity that shines in his whiskey-colored eyes, wash over me like a balm, soothing the raw edges of my wounded heart.

We spend the next hour dissecting the situation, analyzing the possibilities, the potential suspects in this twisted game of sabotage. We comb through the news reports, social media chatter, and whispers from the paddock, the tension returning, but this time, it’s different. It’s a shared tension, a united front against a common enemy.

And we keep coming back to one person: Chad Fucking Tane. First, the interview dredging up the past, casting a shadow over Cole and his father's legacy, and now this? The leaked photo, the deliberate attempt to destroy Cole’s reputation, his career? He’s really playing dirty.

“He’s desperate,” Cole says, his voice tight with anger, his jaw clenched, the muscle ticking beneath his skin. “He knows he can’t beat me on the track, so he’s resorting to this… this cowardly bullshit.”

“I’m going to kick him straight in the nuts,” I say, my voice firm, my gaze locking onto his.

A slow smile spreads across Cole’s face, transforming his features, softening the hard lines and revealing a glimpse of the boy I fell for all those years ago.

“That’s my girl,” he says, his voice a low rumble, which sends a shiver down my spine. “Always up for a fight.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

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