Page 27 of Chasin' Cole

I just keep prayin' Cole's OK.

"Let's go, Rose!" I hear.

I click my tongue, chasing after Della Ray as we drive the remaining cows to safety. I don't look back. I keep ridin' on, hoping help arrives. Brock and Cole can't fight this fire on their own.

My stomach turns when I think about them. About their friendship. About how Brock will react when we finally tell him the truth about us. If he doesn't already know. He did see Cole and I arrive together.

"Head back to the house," Della Ray instructs as she takes off her cowboy hat and wipes her forehead on her forearm. "Get yerself some water and ask Lacey to call for more help. At the rate this is goin', it's gonna be an all-nighter."

An all-nighter?

Oh no.

The ride up to Brock and Lacey's is fast as I cut through the creek to avoid the fire. Water sprays my arms and face as I push Della Ray's stallion to its limits. It's breathin' hard by the time we make it to the dirt driveway.

I'm havin' a hard time catchin' my breath as the house comes into view. My heart rate increases, and I feel cold. Too cold.

My stomach turns violently as I yank on the reins and hop off Della Ray's horse.

Sick.

I'm going to be sick.

I watch as the house spins in a circle before everything goes black.

—

My eyes flutter open as sunlight flickers across the white wall of my bedroom. Somethin’ warm is wrapped around my hand. I shift slightly, my eyes fallin’ on Cole’s handsome face. His clothes are covered in dirt and soot, and there’s a black streak on his chin. His hand is holdin’ tight to mine as he sleeps in a chair next to my bedside.

If this is what love is, what him stealin’ my heart looks like, then I’m not sure I want to move from this spot.

I study his features more closely before noticin’ there’s a black circle around his left eye.

Brock.

I know it was him. He must have figured it out. Or Cole finally told him the truth.

I carefully extract my fingers from Cole’s and throw the blanket off me.

Coffee. I need coffee and I know he will, too.

Quietly, I pad out of the room and down the hallway. I can hear dishes clinkin’ in the kitchen as I throw my hands over my head and yawn.

“Oh good,” I hear when I reach the coffee pot. “You’re up.”

An agitated sigh leaves my mouth as I turn to face my brother. Brock looks like hell. His hair is mussed atop his head, and his cobalt blue eyes are tired. I hold in a smirk when I see the red mark on his cheek.

Guess Cole got a punch in there, too. Good for him.

“What are you doin’, Rose?” Brock shakes his head at me.

“Gettin’ coffee,” I retort as I pour the black, bitter liquid into two empty mugs.

“I mean with Cole,” he growls.

“What does it matter?” I breathe through my nose.

“He’s ten—almost eleven—years older than you are,” Brock argues. “He’s not the type of guy who’s goin’ to stick around for you. He’s leavin’—”

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