Page 54 of Slow Burn
Heat flared through him, but his voice stayed level. “Not what I said.”
“It’s what you meant,” she bit out, leaning forward.
He leaned forward, too, frustration sparking. “Jocelyn, Ned Turner threatened you today. What if I hadn’t been there?”
“I would’ve left,” she shot back. Her voice didn’t waver, but her eyes did.
“And what if he hadn’t backed off?”
The space between them shrank again. The island wasn’t wide, and suddenly her gaze dropped to his mouth. His blood roared in response, fingers tightening on the handle of his mug.
“I suppose you think that because your dad saved me back then, it’s your turn now?” Those words were warning smoke over his lips because what she said next burned: “You’ve got a savior complex, Cole.”
The words hit hard, and he jerked back, hot coffee splashing out of his cup to scald his chest.
He hissed.
Jocelyn scrambled around the island for the paper towels, swiping at his shirt until he caught her wrist, holding her hand still.
“That hurts,” he ground out.
“Sorry.” She pulled her hand from his grip and took a step back.
He pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it aside. Her gaze followed, cheeks flooding pink, her expression caught between apology and something else he couldn't afford to dwell on.
“All I need’s a new shirt,” Cole muttered, brushing past her, heat in his skin from more than just the burn.
When he came back, she was by the window, arms wrapped around herself as she stared out over First Street. For a moment, he just watched her, unsure what the hell to say next.
She felt him there and turned to give him a rounded stare. “I’m sorry. For what I said.”
“Is it what you think?”
“No. Yes.” Her mouth twisted. “Maybe. I just hate feeling… like I can’t do things for myself.”
Cole shook his head. “No one’s saying you can’t. And I sure as hell don’t think that.”
“Then why offer to help?”
“Because if that fire was on purpose, someone’s still tryin’ to bury the past. And I don’t like the thought of you without somebody watchin’ your back.”
twenty-one
“This is how the fire starts. This is how we burn.” - Libba Bray
Jocelyn’s doubt was a fortress built over years of letdowns and being chosen last. But the earnestness in Cole’s expression sent a tremor through its foundation, and she wasn’t sure she could patch it back up if it cracked.
Having him along on her investigationcouldbe a boon. People weren’t exactly forthcoming with her. No matter her roots, in their minds, she was not the prodigal returned. More like a traitor slinking back.
She’d thrown a lot of suspicion toward Cole’s family, so his motives might not have been as clear-cut as he claimed.
It kept her doubt deeply entrenched. “Do you even want to know what really happened?”
She expected a reaction, but Cole only crossed the room to retrieve the coffee he’d splashed on himself. To buy himself time?
He even sipped before answering. “Like you said, there are some big question marks.”
She shouldn’t have been entertaining this. Finding out about his father’s secret had rattled him badly, and despite what he thought, she didn’t want to hurt him.
