Page 59 of Chasin' Cole

Takin' a deep breath, I turn onto my side and bury my face in Cole's pillow. After all this time, it still smells like him.

This isn't healthy, Rose. Comin' here isn't healthy. Wishin' for things to be different isn't healthy.

I need to let him go. I need to move on. Iammovin' on. I can't keep waitin' for somethin' that might never happen.

It's time to give Lacey the key back.

But just for tonight, I'm goin' to fall asleep in his bed not worried about what tomorrow might bring or how heavy my heart feels every minute of every day.

Tonight, I'm just gonna close my eyes and pretend all is right in the world. All is right and I haven't lost the only thing I've ever truly loved.

Movin’ on is hard. No one tells you how hard it is to pack up all the memories and moments. They don’t tell you how hard it is to stuff everything you had into a suitcase and shove it under the bed.

The hardest part isn’t saying goodbye. It’s mournin’ what was supposed to be but isn’t. Cole and I weren’t supposed to be, but I’d give anythin’ to go back. Anythin’ to remember layin’ in his arms in the back of his truck. What I’d give to fall asleep next to him just one more time.

Pack it up, Rose. Stuff it in the suitcase. Shove it under the bed. Forget. Pretend it never existed. That’s the only way to move on.

Chapter 22 – Follow Your Heart

I stand on the front lawn of my new home. Three and a half acres, a small two-bedroom house, and a barn that's currently bein' repaired by Brock, Howard and me before the winter weather officially sets in. Mama's inside, sittin' at the sewin' machine, makin' curtains for every room.

Slippin' out of my boots, I run a forearm over my cold face, removin' all the dirt and grime from tearin' down old wood and replacin' it with new slats.

"I just put a pot of coffee on," Mama looks up from her sewin' machine when I walk into the kitchen.

I nod to her before findin' my way over to the worn cabinet door, chips of white flakin' off from the years of neglect. I open it and grab a coffee cup.

After I pour the liquid inside, I take a seat at the table. "Thanks for doin' this."

She raises her head and peers at me over the glasses on the bridge of her nose. "I owe you an apology."

I nearly spit out my coffee. "What?"

Mary Ellen Young never apologizes. For anythin'. Ever.

"Howard and I had a long talk," she sighs. "I've made a lot of mistakes over the years. And I know it might not make sense to you, but a lot of those choices were made out of fear. Fear of losin' everythin'. Fear of not bein' in control."

"What are you so afraid of losin'?" I ask as I take a sip of coffee, trying not to let her see the shock colorin' my face.

"Well, my family," she gives me a sad smile. "But I think I've lost them already."

We're all still here, but we don't have much to do with the woman who is currently sittin' at my dining room table, sewin' cream-colored curtains with little red roses on them. None of us trust her anymore. And I think we show up for holidays to appease her. Or to appease the parts of us that still care for her. Even if she is as cold as ice.

"I am sorry for interferin' with yer relationship. It wasn't my place," she says.

My heart starts poundin' in my chest. "I appreciate you sayin' that. But I think Cole would have found a way to ruin it with or without your help."

"What do you mean?" she treads carefully.

"I've resigned myself to the fact that Cole's always chasin' the next great adventure and I'm always goin' to be here, chasin' my own. He was always goin' to leave. He’s never goin’ to stay for long. I knew that. I’ve always known that. I also know that he's right. I can't spend my life waitin' for him. It's not fair to me and I don't want to put that kind of pressure on him. I wished you had talked to me instead, but knowin' myself, I wouldn't have listened to you anyway."

"From now on," Mom licks her lips, "I'm goin' to do better. For you, for Brock, for Lacey, for Howard and for Annabeth."

"I hope you do," I take another sip of my coffee. "You always tell me there's only one place to go when you hit rock bottom."

"Up."

"Up," I agree.

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