Page 42 of Offside for Christmas
"That's very rational of you."
"I'm trying to be a good guy here."
"I know." Ellie lay down too, maintaining more space between them now. "I appreciate it."
They lay there in silence, the wind howling outside, Christmas music still playing faintly from the main room. Cole's entire body was screaming at him to pull her back into his arms, but he forced himself to stay still.
"Cole?" Ellie's voice was small in the darkness.
"Yeah?"
"I don't regret kissing you."
He smiled despite everything. "Good. Because I'm definitely doing it again."
"Is that a promise or a threat?"
"Both."
He heard her laugh softly, and the sound did something to his chest that was far more dangerous than just wanting her physically.
"Goodnight, Cole."
"Goodnight, Ellie."
Cole woke to gray morning light filtering through the curtains and the realization that something was very, very wrong.
Or very, very right, depending on perspective.
Ellie was wrapped around him like a vine.
Her face was pressed against his chest, her breath warm through his t-shirt. One of her legs was tangled with his. Her arm was draped across his waist. And his arm—traitorous thing—was curved around her, holding her close.
They must have shifted during the night, unconsciously seeking each other out despite their careful distance.
Cole should move. Should extract himself before she woke up and realized what had happened. Should put space between them and pretend this hadn't occurred.
He didn't move.
Instead, he lay there, holding her, feeling her breathe, and thought:I'm so fucked.
Because this—this feeling of rightness, of home, of wanting to wake up like this every morning—was more dangerous than any injury, any trade, any career uncertainty.
This was the thing that could actually break him.
Outside, the storm had passed. Through the window, he could see bright blue sky and snow covering everything in pristine white. It looked like a Christmas card come to life.
Ellie stirred, making a small sleepy sound, and Cole held his breath.
Her eyes opened slowly, unfocused at first. Then awareness hit—of where she was, who she was wrapped around, what they'd done last night.
"Oh," she breathed.
"Morning," Cole said quietly.
They stared at each other, the clock on the wall ticked, neither moving, both hyperaware of every point where their bodies touched.
"We fell asleep on opposite sides of the bed," Ellie said.
