Page 59 of A Photo Finish
I turn toward the shelter just as he lashes out, “What? You’re not going to offer to help me get over there?”
Stopping my forward motion, I turn back to look at him, he’s sitting tall and rigid now. He’s trying to look strong and proud, but his words are insecure and petty. I could take his attitude personally, but I know him well enough to know that tone means nothing where he’s concerned. In fact, I usually think it means he’s angry with himself, not me. And right now, he doesn’t need my pity. He’s already drowning in his own.
“Do you need help?” I prop my hands on my hips and tilt my head in question. “Because it strikes me that you’re one of the strongest men I know. Presumably, you’ve been getting around fine for years with no one’s help. Am I right?”
He blinks at me, face blank. I think he might be shocked. But I have brothers, and I know when a boy needs coddling—and this ain’t it.
“Hop on over when you’re ready.” And then I leave him. Big tough Mr. I-Sleep-Outside needs my help? I scoff to myself as I crawl into the dark lean-to, leaves crunching underneath me as I come to sit.
Only a few minutes later, I hear Cole making his way over. He kneels in front of the entryway and crawls in beside me. What felt spacious before his arrival feels downright claustrophobic with his bulk taking up space beside me. Taking upway too much space. I feel my heart race at the proximity of him, at the idea that I have nowhere to retreat to. Nowhere to hide from him and the intensely confusing feelings he stirs up inside of me.
“Did you seriously just tell me tohop on over?” The light is dim in the shelter, but I can see the amused tilt on his shapely lips.
“I . . .” God, that sounds kind of bad, doesn’t it? “I did.” Might as well own it. “Seemed preferable to ‘crawl on over.’”
The laugh he barks out is so loud that it startles me. Like it leapt out of nowhere and surprised us both with its power. I laugh uncertainly and eye him skeptically. Like . . . is this okay? Am I allowed to laugh at this? But Cole doesn’t seem to have any such qualms. His shoulders shake, and his body curls in, his hands resting across what I know are rock-hard abs. He laughs so hard that when he looks up again, I see his fingertips swipe away a stray tear.
“What the fuck, Violet?” He gasps, still trying to catch his breath. “I never knew that amputee jokes would hit quite like that.”
“I’m sorry!” My hand flies up across my mouth.
“Don’t be.” He shakes his head with a grin plastered on his face. It’s weird. He never smiles at me like that, with true amusement. Maybe the odd peek of contentment or care. But not like this—this is unnerving. This is . . . He looks downright edible like this. All dark hair and glowing eyes.
“Are you okay?” I venture because I’m honestly a little disturbed.
He leans back on his hands and looks up at the roof of the shelter. “Am I okay? That’s a loaded question. I’m . . .” He trails off, and I watch his chest rise and fall, his throat move as he swallows, his cheek twitch momentarily, and I feel my core thrum.
The tiniest things he does set me alight—that cheek twitch and the dimple that pops when he does it? Gah! Delicious. Everything about the man is delicious. Dark and chilly on the outside, soft and gooey on the inside. Far too experienced for a girl like me, but so damn tempting.
I lick my lips as I soak him in. Staring at him and suddenly not really caring if I get caught.
“I’m relieved,” he finally says.
“Relieved?”
“Yeah.” He lifts his stump up and drops it back down in explanation. “It’s like a weight off my chest that someone knows about this. Keeping it a secret is exhausting.”
I mean, no shit.
“How did it happen?”
He sighs deeply and crosses his arms over his chest the way he always does when he’s trying not to look vulnerable. “I was so close to finishing my third tour. So fucking close. It’s not even a good story. We were outside the wire, no live fire or anything. We drove over an IED. Junior, who was with me, didn’t make it. And my leg took the brunt of the shrapnel. There were nails inside of it. I didn’t even realize how bad it was. I got Junior and carried him to safety before it completely gave out on me.”
I swallow. That’s more detail than I was expecting. “So why keep it a secret? No one would care.”
“Hmm. Trixie asks me that too. I tell her it’s because of Hilary. She cared.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“I wasn’t easy to deal with when I came back. I had a lot of shit to work through, even beyond the amputation. But finding the right prosthetic isn’t a quick process. The shape of your stump, it all affects your comfort and the fit. Not to mention the change in balance that comes with it. The phantom pains. We’d grown apart already, and I was a growly motherfucker. But apparently, the physical aspect of my recovery really wasn’t working for her.”
I feel a chill roll down my spine, like when my brother would drop that fluffy, dry Alberta snow down the back of my shirt. I probably shouldn’t press, but he already knows I’m snoopy. “What does that mean?”
“You and your questions.” He snorts and then angles a look down at me as if to confirm I’m not backing down. “Okay. Well. When I finally got my body and mind sorted out enough to fuck her, it just wasn’t what it once was. She liked when I was aggressive and dominating. But I couldn’t be that anymore. Especially because my heart just wasn’t in it. At any rate, I lost my balance, everything felt different, and I fell over partway through.” He shakes his head, lost in the memory. “Right on the fucking floor. It’s where I wanted to stay too. So, I decided I was done for the day. It embarrassed me, you know? It more than embarrassed me. Itruinedme. I barely knew her anymore. And she got frustrated. Had some choice words about me being ahalf manthat resulted in the end of our engagement. I wasn’t the shiny, whole, trust-fund baby she latched onto a decade earlier. So that was that. The end.”
I imagine Cole, proud and dominating and so fucking broken, fallen on the floor. And then I imagine a woman who professes to love him making him feel anything less than loved in that moment. And then I feel fury. Fury that spews right out of me.
“Okay, so Hilary needs to die.” I slap my hand over my mouth. I didn’t mean to say that part out loud. But I feel fierce. I feel protective. Like I want to crawl into his lap and use my body as a shield for him from anyone who would talk to him that way—wound him that way.
