Chapter 25
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FIVE
COLE
For the last three Christmases I’ve sat alone in my apartment playing video games.
I’ve been sort of lonely, sure, but at least I wasn’t in the middle of some screaming match between my parents.
Or worse, the awkward passive-aggressive shit they throw at me trying to get me to like them more than the other.
So I haven’t had a Christmas dinner—let alone an Italian one, heavy with pastas, meats, and all the cookies and espresso—in a long time.
I haven’t watched parents dance in the kitchen to Christmas music, or sit by a fire with hot cocoa and more cookies.
I haven’t had Natalie curled against me under a weighted blanket while we made our way through every Christmas movie known to man.
So for a few hours, time stopped and I soaked in the magic of the holidays.
I soaked in her. The way she curled to my side, the way her laugh echoed in my chest like it was calling to me.
But now it’s the day after Christmas, and instead of laying on a half-inflated air mattress with her like I want to be, I’m in the backseat of her parents’ car on the way to the airport. Every mile feels like a countdown to the end.
Outside the window, a white landscape rushes past while I keep my eyes from darting to Natalie. I have no idea how to go back to my normal life without her. Not after I know what it feels like to hold her in my arms and brush my lips against hers.
Her voice cuts through my thoughts, soft but steady. “Cole?”
I turn, and god, I’m weak. I try to smile, but it feels heavy. Like my mouth forgot how already. “What’s up?”
“What will you do after the tournament? Will you go back home?”
I shake my head. “I usually just stay on campus,” I say. “That’s why we got the apartment. The dorms close for winter break, so I used to not have a choice, but now I do.”
“And you choose not to go home?”
“Too much drama still between my parents. Caden’s path has been pretty set for a while.
My mom is pretty adamant that I should be a doctor and my dad thinks I should sign my contract with Edmonton, since they’re the club that drafted me a few years back.
Anytime I do something that suggests I’m favoring one path, they take it personally.
Like I’m choosing one parent over the other too. It’s easier to just stay out of it.”
“Do you know what you want?” I ask.
You.
Again, I shake my head. “No, and like most things this year, my time to figure that out is coming to an end.” I grab her hand and brush my thumb over the top. “Promise me things won’t go back to the way they were when you come back to campus. Even if you’re still mad at me.”
Natalie’s eyes widen a little. “You think I’m still mad at you?”
I shrug, trying to play it off. “I’ve been hopeful my groveling skills were wearing you down. I was kinda counting on a few more days, though.”
Her dad slams the brake and curses. “Sorry Cole, but it looks like you’re going to have to jump out here and grab your bag. There aren’t any spots to pull over and this lane is backing up, too.”
“Flying out a day after Christmas, I totally get it,” I say. “I appreciate the lift.”
“Anything for Natalie’s… what do you say, kid? Is he your real boyfriend now?”
My hand freezes on the door handle. My heart slams against my ribs.
Natalie shrieks, “Come again?” and her parents laugh like they just dropped the punchline to the joke of the year.
“Oh sweetheart,” her mom says, “you’re going to have to do better than tag in a twin for us not to notice you’ve suddenly switched partners.
We had our suspicions that Caden was a cover-up, but after Cole came for Christmas instead, we knew there was no way you two had been dating for almost two years. ”
“How—how did you know?” Natalie asks. “I thought we were convincing.”
Her mom snorts. “Sweetheart, you look at him like you want him, but you’re scared, and he looks at you like you hung the moon but you’re unreachable.”
“Sorry to kick you out on that note, Cole, but again, the cars. The line. I want to get the hell out of here,” Mr. D’Amore says.
“Uhm. Understood. Mr. D’Amore. Sorry, for…yeah. Okay. Sorry to abandon you on that note Natalie, but…”
I hook my thumb towards the airport and step out of the car.
“Have a nice flight,” Natalie says, nervously chewing on her lip.
“You too,” I wince. “I mean drive.” I duck and peer at her. “Well, bye.”
“Bye.” She smiles at me.
“The line, Cole—” Mr. D’Amore says more grumpily.
Right.
“Yes, sir!” Heat crowds my cheeks. I shut the door and try to walk away but get yanked right back to the car—thanks to my duffel bag’s strap shut in the door. I’m sure I look super cool and chill.
I untangle it, slam the door shut, and force myself to wave on the curb.
Her mom’s voice drifts faintly out the window before it rolls up. “God, he’s in love with you.”
Nailed that exit.
At this point, love feels like an understatement. Because as the car gets farther, it feels as though she is taking my heart with her and leaving me on the curb.
Soft snow falls, making the world seem muffled and soft. The curb is a mess of dirty slush under my boots. My duffel bag strap digs into my shoulder. I don’t move. I should.
I can’t.
I stare at the spot where her car vanished.
Like if I look long enough, it’ll swing back around and her dad will lean out the window and say, “Just kidding, kid. Go get her.” Or I’ll open my eyes and realize I’m still back in her living room, tangled in blankets, her legs pressed against mine while she sleeps.
I was so fucking close.
But the car doesn’t come back.
And I’m not dreaming.
I let her slip away again.
If there is some invisible thread tying us together, it’s pulling harder now. Like it knows I just left the best thing that’s ever happened to me sitting in the back seat of some car.
I shake it off, force my legs to move, and walk into the airport.
Inside everything is chaos. Kids cry. Suitcase wheels thud against the tile. The chaos of the holidays is still here but the magic is gone.
I go through security, eyes still trained on the entrance, hoping Natalie might bust through like a scene out of a romcom. She’ll run through the crowd, cheeks pink from the cold, and yell my name at the gate. And I’ll kiss her hard as the camera pulls out and our happily ever after begins.
Instead, all I see are strangers.
I sit at my gate with my hood up and headphones on, dumbly staring at the departure screen, waiting for the ache in my chest to dull.
It doesn’t.
All I can think about is her mom’s voice pulling away.
"He’s in love with you."
I feel like I made that painfully obvious, so I’m not worried she doesn’t know but I left her without saying anything more than promise me things won’t go back to the way they were. I left what I wanted way too vague.
I can’t do anything about it. All I can do is wait for this plane and hope when I see her again on campus in a month, she’ll still look at me like she was starting to. Like how her mom said, she wants me, but is scared, I can work with that.
I open my phone and pull up her contact. A contact photo glows at the top. It’s a picture I took of her on the ice pond. Her nose’s crinkled, her arms open, catching a snowflake on her tongue. It physically hurts to look at it, but I can’t look away.
I type.
Tell your your parents I appreciated the ride, and also the mild trauma.
Then I delete.
Then I try again.
I already miss you.
No. Too much.
Backspace.
I drag a hand down my face and resist the impulse to chuck the phone across the terminal. My leg bounces restlessly as I glance around the gate. Everyone else looks normal. Calm. Like it’s just another day, another flight, another holiday over.
But I feel like I’m unraveling. Like someone cut the tether between me and the only place I’ve ever actually wanted to stay.
I try typing again.
I know we didn’t talk about what this is. I wanted to. I just didn’t want to ruin it. Or say it wrong. Or say it too soon.
Better.
But still not enough.
Backspace. All of it.
Maybe I should just call her and tell her everything before the gate agent starts boarding.
I hover over the call button.
But I can’t go through with it. She’s still with her parents. Now is not the time.
I go back to the message thread.
I know I should’ve said it before I left. But I didn’t. So here it is now, because I can’t get on this plane and not tell you—
I stop typing. Stare at the blinking cursor. It’s waiting on me. Begging me to be brave.
To ask her if I can take her out on a real date, or start something more if she’s interested. Anything to keep her in my life since she won’t be coming over every morning to see Caden anymore.
But the words don’t feel right over text.
So I delete the draft.
One last time.
I wanted to say something before I left. But I didn’t. Can I call you later?
I hit send before I can talk myself out of it.
The screen dims.
I sit with my phone in my lap waiting for it to illuminate with a reply as if everything depends on it. In many ways, it does.