Page 66 of A Photo Finish
On the track.
* * *
I pullinto the driveway and park right in front of Pipsqueak’s paddock. I couldn’t sleep because I was too excited about my win. Too high on adrenaline. So, I snuck out of the barn apartment, slid my feet into a pair of sandals, and threw a long cardigan over my floral sleep shorts and matching tank to keep the chill out. It’s dark out now, past my regular bedtime, and I hoped to keep my arrival on the down low, but she’s pretty much a guard horse at this point, sounding the alarm as soon as I pull up.
Little traitor.
“Hey, sweet girl.” I jump out of my car with a pocket full of peppermints and head her way. “We won tonight. Left everyone else in the dust. It felt so damn good.” She nickers and rubs her lips against my pocket, honing in on the minty smell. I pull one out and let her chomp away at it. White foam forms on her lips from the chalky candy. “I was going to go to bed. But I couldn’t sleep. Figured I’d come celebrate with you.”
I peek up at the darkened farmhouse before I shake my head at myself.Cute, Violet. Pretending you’re not here to spy on Cole. Pretending thinking about him and wondering where he is isn’t what was keeping you up.
I still don’t know what to make of what I read on his laptop. I have even less of an idea of what to say to him. I’m half in love with the man—and the other half wants to shake some sense into him. He’s so damn broken, so full of fake bravado.
Everyone sees cool, calm, and collected. Emotionless. I think I might have at one point too. But now all I see is sad. Closed off. Lonely. I’m scared he’ll break me, but suddenly I’m more scared I’ll break him. Loving him feels like a big responsibility.
“Violet?”
The sound of his voice sends a thrill down my spine. Deep and gravelly, a tad sleepy sounding.
I turn slowly to take in his dark form on the front porch of the little blue house. “Hi.” I let my gaze trail over that perfect triangular upper body, strong thighs. “Did you see my race?”
“No, sorry. I didn’t make it down.”
Disappointment lurches in my chest. I wanted him to be there. “Did I wake you?”
“Yeah, but it was time.”
Huh? I walk closer to the porch and realize he’s only wearing form fitting boxers and a T-shirt. “Did you sleep all day?”
He runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah. I was pretty tired.”
I come closer, gripping the porch railing. “I thought you were joking about my snoring keeping you awake.”
He laughs. Deep and smooth. Like honey. And I want him to drizzle it all over me and then lick it off.
“It wouldn’t have been safe for both of us to sleep. I kept watch.”
“We could have taken turns!” I hate feeling helpless, hate that he didn’t even bother to include me in that decision. “I don’t need you to coddle me. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”
He pins me now, his gray eyes sparking with fight. “That’s what you keep telling me. But Violet, letting me help doesn’t make you weak. It just means I care. I know you don’tneedme. But I want to be there for you. Let me care for you in the only ways that I can.”
“Is this where you tell me that’s what friends do?”
He swallows. I watch his throat bob as his intelligent eyes regard me carefully. “No.”
That one word. He doesn’t say more, but he doesn’t need to. It’s his confession.
My tongue darts out to wet my bottom lip as I gaze up at him, his body towering above me, just a few steps away. I swear the air between us heats by the second—like I can feel his energy from several feet away.
“I saw the messages,” I blurt out. “On your laptop.”
He blinks a few times, but his face stays predictably blank. He shows so little emotion sometimes. It’s almost impossible to get a read on him. But when he turns away from me and limps back into the house, I feel enough emotion for the both of us. Walking away,again.
I boil over. Fiery hot. Jilted, frustrated,tired.I storm up into the house I called home for a month, hot on his heels as he makes his way through the living room.
“Would you just talk to me already!” I shout. It comes out louder and more forceful than I think I’ve ever talked to anyone in my life. My cheeks heat, and I initially feel a little bad. It’s out of character, but I am so done with not saying anything to each other. I like quiet, but this is beyond. Cole is downright uncommunicative.
He turns, jaw popping and veins in his arms pulsing with tension, all highlighted by shadow with only a floor lamp shedding dim light in the corner. His hands fist and then let go as he raises his voice right back, shouting, “What do you want me to tell you? I never open up to anyone. You think everything between us just started and finished with a photo for me? Like it was easy for me to lose you? To not know if you were okay? To miss you so much it physically hurt? You broke me!”
