Chapter 9
CHAPTER 9
COLE
I ’m in hell.
Not the seventh circle or anything like that, but my own personal one.
Does it make me a masochist that I never want to leave?
Sharing Hannah Grace’s thirteen hundred square foot house is a torture of want. Of the near-constant awareness of my fraying self-control. I am immersed in a world that smells of citrus and vanilla, of soft pastels, and my beautiful ex-girlfriend whose inner beauty far exceeds her outer beauty. A world where her soft voice hums songs from the radio and her favorite movie soundtracks. It’s being transported back in time to the days when I could reach out and snag her wrist to pull her in for a kiss. Of nights spent wrapped in each other.
But that’s not my reality anymore.
Instead, I’m relegated back to my life as a teenage boy in my parents’ house, cold showers when necessary or longer, warmer showers when I can’t stand it anymore and stand under the stream of water to let my memories of Hannah Grace take over as I seek some relief in the form of my hand.
I’d been driven from my bed—from Hannah Grace’s guest bed—after a dream so real I’d run for the bathroom. Now, thirty minutes later, my thoughts are my own and I can get dressed for school.
I open the door, surprising Hannah Grace who is still mussed from sleep.
Her hair still holds a small portion of a messy bun, but most of it has slithered out in her sleep. She’s dressed in a white spaghetti-strapped tank top, the thin material doing nothing to conceal her pert nipples from my attention, and my dick twitches behind my towel.
Fuuuuuck.
I avert my eyes, attempting to find somewhere safe for my attention to land—difficult between her nipple-pebbled tank and the smooth skin of her thighs exposed in her tiny sleep shorts.
The last thirty minutes of my life never happened and my dick is rock hard beneath the towel.
“Ohhh.”
Her hand still hangs between us, raised to knock. It’s like there’s some invisible force between her fingers and my chest, and gooseflesh ripples across my exposed chest despite the humid heat of the bathroom at my back.
What is it about us meeting with me in a towel?
“I—sorry. I was…you’re usually not…” She sputters off, a pretty pink flushing her collarbone and climbing her neck.
My fingers twitch with the urge to trace that color from its start, to cup her cheeks before I lower my lips to hers, dipping my tongue in to enjoy the sweetness that would await me.
“Couldn’t sleep.” My voice is barely audible but contains a roughness I blame on lack of sleep.
Not my physical reaction to her proximity. To all the things I want to do to her inspired by said proximity. I could excuse myself, run away to my bedroom to get ready for the last day of school before the Thanksgiving break.
What the hell am I going to do without twenty five-year-olds to distract me from my overwhelming attraction that still burns for this woman?
“Why not?”
“You don’t really want to ask me that, Honey Girl.” The endearment slips out before I can stop it, but she doesn’t bristle like she used to.
“I don’t?” Her pupils dilate and her tongue peeks out to slick along her lips.
“Not unless you want the answer,” I murmur and close the distance until her fingers graze my chest.
“What if I do?”
I open my mouth to tell her or to kiss her—I’m not sure which—when the ringer sounds on the phone in my room. Just like that, whatever magic had been weaving between us dissipates, and she takes several steps back.
“You should grab that. It’s early. It might be important.”
I step out of the bathroom and she retreats inside, closing the door behind her.
I’m not sure whether to be irritated or relieved that my phone is ringing this early.
By the time I make it to the phone plugged in next to my pillow, it has stopped and started again.
“What?” I bark into the phone.
“Hello to you too.” Sydney’s voice sounds far too awake right now.
“Why are you up at”—I do the math in my head— “three in the morning?”
“Haven’t been to bed yet.” She slurps whatever drink she has on her end. “That’s why they make Monsters.”
“You should try water every once in a while. I’m sure your bloodstream is primarily caffeine.”
“Don’t forget the alcohol,” she adds.
I bark out a laugh.
“I’m sure you didn’t call me just to shoot the shit at this time of day. What’s up?”
“Sawyer asked me to check in. Let you know what the programs have pulled. Which is a big fat nothing.” The disgust is clear in her voice.
“Nothing?”
“I did a full social dive on Zach Nolan—who is boring as hell, by the way—and there’s nothing beyond the initial pull.”
“Nothing?” The hair on the nape of my neck stands up.
“Nope.” She pops the p.
“Why do I feel like that’s not all of it?”
“Because it’s not. Pageant friends are all clear but I am trying to dig up records of Pervy Pete. There’s no record of him online, but it would help if I had a last name or even a real first name.”
“Have you reached out to the pageant board director who contacted us?”
“Duh. Ms. Chabert is currently on vacation and doesn’t have cell phone service on the cruise she’s on.”
“When does she get back?”
“Two weeks from now.”
Shit. Damn. Fuck.
“Any luck with the guys from the dating app?”
“Two of them with first dates were clear. One recently got married and the other is in a committed relationship with a woman he was talking to at the same time he was talking to Hannah Grace.”
“And?”
“And what?”
She’s stalling. And it’s not something she does.
“What about the other guys? There’s one left each, right? One with a first date and one that had two dates?”
“Yeah.”
“Sydney, if you don’t stop slow-rolling, I’m going to reach through this fucking phone and smash your computer to bits.”
She sighs.
“One with a second date popped on one of my background check services. He had an assault charge six months ago and was a person of interest in a stalking case three months ago.”
My stomach twists as I process the information.
“Shit.”
“I’ve requested the files, but the courthouse doesn’t open for a few more hours.”
“Thanks, Syd.”
She’s already doing all she can. But it doesn’t stop this feeling of failure that throbs painfully through my body.
“I’m still tracking down the guy that pushed back when she tried to sever the connection.”
“What do you mean, track him down?”
“Well, Hannah Grace reported him after he messaged her and wouldn’t stop. So the company banned him and canceled his account. But it wasn’t set up with any accurate information anyway, so that was a dead end.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“Tell me about it. No dating apps, ever. Not for me. Although I wouldn’t mind thirty minutes with Hannah Grace’s sexy neighbor.”
“Braeden?”
“Hell yes. That boy has those plump, kissable lips. I wouldn’t mind a taste or twelve.”
And just like that all my goodwill is evaporating.
“TMI,” I groan.
She laughs.
“Sorry, not sorry. But he’s good to go too. Older brother, three younger sisters, has bartended at one place the whole time he’s lived in Nashville. Family lives in North Carolina.”
“I didn’t think you were the settling down type.”
“Pfft. I’m not. But I don’t need to settle down to enjoy myself.”
“Alright, enough about your love life. Is there anything else you have an update on for me right now?”
“Nothing yet. I’ll let you know if I find anything.”
I hate the helpless sensation that claws at my throat. I fucking despise waiting.
A headache is building between my eyes, and I squeeze the bridge of my nose to ward it off.
“What about the cameras? They’re working, right? Anything?” she asks.
“They’re working. But nothing. I’ve managed to see notifications of the mailman, the neighborhood cat, and four solicitors, but no more visits from our gift giver. So I’m still at fucking square one.”
“You think the cameras and you being there have scared them off again?”
I blow out a breath and shift my hand to the back of my neck, squeezing the tight muscles.
“Maybe. But I doubt it. Regardless, what happens if I pull the cameras down and leave without figuring out who’s doing this? They come back.”
“Leave the cameras up.” The duh is super clear in her suggestion.
“She doesn’t want them.”
“What about a self-defense class?”
“Supposedly she takes one every year with Zach.” His name tastes bitter in my mouth.
Jealous. Who’s jealous? Not me.
Liar, liar, pants on fire .
They would be. If I were wearing any.
Sydney snorts.
“What the hell does she see in that stick-in-the-mud?”
“He’s her friend.”
“Why?”
I’ve asked myself that same question, but I don’t have an answer.
“I wish I knew. Just…check on the pageant thing, okay?”
“What do you want me to tell Sawyer?”
“Nothing. I’ll call him later. See if he has any ideas.”
“I’ll tell him you’ll call him. Later.”
“Bye.”
The phone beeps in my ear and I toss it back on the bed.
That was not the news I wanted.
I needed something to show up soon. Before the sliver of a thread I still had on my control broke completely.
???
“You want to do what?” Hannah Grace asks me as we leave her classroom and head for the exit.
“Let’s go bowling. It’ll be fun.”
Based on Zach’s social media posts, it’s something she still does, but she hesitates now.
“Why?”
So I don’t kiss you as soon as we cross the threshold to your house.
I can’t tell her that though.
“It’s Friday night. We can do the cosmic style thing. It’s been forever since I bowled. Come on, it’ll be fun.”
And maybe help fortify my control a little bit.
Because it won’t remind you of the dates you used to take her on as a teenager ? Ones that ended up with you two fogging up the windows in your truck when you brought her home?
Well, fuck.
That hadn’t crossed my mind until now, but it’s too late since the invitation is already out there.
“You sure that’s what you want to do?”
“Why not?”
Her teeth sink into her lip as she considers the invitation.
“What if I invited my friends? Casey and Brody live here and it’s been a while since I’ve seen them. Oh, I can invite Braeden too. That’ll give you the chance to get to know everyone.”
“Everyone, huh?” I love her enthusiasm and the way she practically vibrates with it. “Whoever you want, Hannah Grace,” I say.
When am I going to learn to watch what I say?
“We have to invite Zach. He loves to bowl.”
Of course he does.
I want to come up with any reason not to invite him, but she’s already ducking into the gym, bounding over to him like a brand-new puppy running to her favorite person.
Is he that person for her?
That’s a question to explore never.
“Zach, it’s Friday! You want to hit up cosmic bowling at Pinheadz?”
“Pinheadz?” He finishes tossing balls into a basket and turns his full attention on her like she is the center of his universe.
How the hell does she not see that he has feelings for her?
A blind mouse could see it. It’s plain as day to me. But she seems oblivious.
His gaze lands on me and his face falls.
“Yeah. It’s been ages since we went. Your birthday in July and that was cut short by league night.”
Nope. Not jealous at all that she’s discussing memories she’s made with him.
“I don’t know. I’m kind of?—”
Whatever he was about to finish that sentence with is cut off by her bounding forward and clutching his forearm with her hands.
“ Please? It’ll be fun. I promise. I’m going to invite Casey and Brody. You and Brody hit it off last time we hung out. And Braeden. You can ask him about that concert that Duke’s is going to host next month.”
I widen my stance and cross my arms as his gaze once more flickers to me. I’m curious if he’s able to deny her. God knows I never was. Not when she was like that.
His attention focuses back on her, his face softening.
“Fine. Because you said please. And you’re springing for the loaded fries this time.”
“Absolutely. We didn’t get them the last time. It’s tradition too.”
Does she remember our tradition that I got a kiss for every strike?
Mind out of memory lane, Strickland .
Somebody needs to rip up the road that leads down that direction.
I end up standing at the edge of the gym while Hannah Grace and Zach finish the little bit of cleanup in the gym.
“You ready?” she asks, joining me as we wait for Zach to grab his bag from his office.
“Ready as a runner-up for the crown.” The words fly out of my mouth faster than I can catch them.
She freezes, her mouth open as she studies me for several long moments.
“You’ll catch flies, Hannah Grace.” Reaching over, I lift her chin, closing her plump lips.
“You still use that?” Her voice is a whisper, like what I just said was something scandalous.
Maybe to her, our past is scandalous. Or at least something to tiptoe around. Not jump feetfirst in it like I just did.
I lift a shoulder and let it drop.
“Sometimes.”
Watching her compete in pageants was a big part of my childhood and even some of my preteen and teenage years. When I first started coming up with phrases that related to everything, it was to get her to smile. Not the fake one that graced her lips when she was on stage. But the real one. The one that lit her up from the inside out.
The one I got to see when we were anywhere but a pageant.
“Y’all ready?” Zach walks up and the spell that surrounded us is broken.
“Y-yeah. Let’s go.” Hannah Grace heads for the door first with Zach hot on her heels.
I take the rear and roll my eyes.
“This was your idea, dumbass,” I mutter to myself.
It’s a phrase I have to repeat in my head once we get to the bowling alley. Hannah Grace’s friend Casey and her husband, Brody, end up not being able to come since they already had plans. But Braeden is planning on meeting us here.
Just walking in the door, everyone who works at the alley recognizes Zach and Hannah Grace and wave hello while multitasking to give me the curious eye as I tag along behind the two of them. It isn’t too busy yet, and I go to stand in line when Hannah Grace calls my name after she and Zach head for the little bar attached to the lanes.
“Not yet,” she tells me.
“Not yet?”
She shakes her head, sending her ponytail flying.
“Cosmic bowling starts in an hour. Long enough to grab our fries and a drink. We always wait for the cosmic bowling to start. Come on. I’m starving and Braeden’s probably waiting for us in the bar.”
She grabs my arm and yanks me toward the bar.
“What if all the lanes are taken?” I gesture toward the counter where the employee is waiting to ring up a lane.
“It never gets that busy this early.”
Braeden is leaning against the bar as we walk up, his face brightening when he spots us.
“Braeden!” Hannah Grace rushes over, wrapping her arms around him.
He returns the embrace, lifting her off her feet until she squeals. I glance at Zach, and the thundercloud expression he’s currently sporting is exactly how I feel.
But Braeden doesn’t have the look of a puppy dog begging at Hannah Grace’s feet, so is there anything to worry about?
I hate that I can’t answer that.
We grab an open booth and Zach squeezes in right after Hannah Grace on one side of the booth, leaving me and Braeden to cram ourselves into the other side. He eyes the size of the booth and flips a neighboring chair around at the edge of our table, leaving me the bench. It faces outward so I can keep an eye on the lanes behind Hannah Grace and Zach, but my attention is zeroed in on the casual affection that exists between the two of them.
Not your job .
Hannah Grace glances up from where she’s been studying the beers on tap on the table menu with Zach.
“I’m so glad you could come out tonight, Brae. You haven’t been able to for the longest time.”
“Gotta pay the bills there, Gracie Lou.”
“Gracie Lou?” I ask.
Braeden shifts his attention to me.
“Yeah, you know, like Miss Congeniality ?”
“I know the movie,” I tell him.
“When he found out I won Miss Tennessee, he started teasing me about the movie and Grace…Gracie Lou.” Hannah Grace lifts a shoulder and lets it drop.
“I get it.”
Do you remember my nickname for you, Honey Girl?
I shift my attention from the group, scanning the crowd and noticing the shirts, wrist braces, and custom shoes of the league crowd. The background music in the bar mixes with the echoes of balls striking the pins and cheers that filter into the bar.
“Cole, you ready?” Hannah Grace’s question draws my attention back, and I glance up to see a server next to our table.
“What can I get you to drink, hon?”
“I’ll take a root beer.”
“Anything to eat?”
I shift my attention to Hannah Grace.
“We ordered the loaded fries. There’s plenty to share,” she offers.
I nod.
“I’ll do that then.”
The corners of Zach’s lips turn down.
Back at you, pal. I don’t like you being here anymore than you don’t like me here.
If it were up to me, it would be just Hannah Grace and me.
“Root beer?” Hannah Grace asks. “They have a pretty good selection on tap.”
“I’m good with the soda.” I don’t give any additional explanation.
Normally, if I were in LA, I might grab a beer. But I’m on a job, in public, with Hannah Grace and the man who wishes he was in a relationship with my ex-girlfriend and another one I can’t get a read on.
Actually, a beer sounds like heaven in this circumstance.
But I won’t.
The server brings our drinks—my soda, beers for both Hannah Grace and Zach, and another soda for Braeden. Looks like I’m not the only one not drinking.
“Since when do you drink beer?” I ask Hannah Grace.
She always hated it in high school.
“It’s peach cider.” Zach’s words are muffled by his own drink but still audible.
Hannah Grace finishes her sip and sets down her glass.
“I do like a couple of lighter beers. But this is my favorite. The pear cider is good too.”
“Nothing like the beer we drank in high school,” I say.
She grimaces, her skin turning a pale shade of green, and laughter bubbles up.
“Thank God.”
“You never really did regain your taste for it after Jenna’s birthday party our senior year,” I tease her.
“That’s what a two-day hangover and being grounded for a week will do to you,” she groans. “Besides, you can’t tell me you ever want vodka again after Dan’s party our junior year.”
Just the thought of the hard alcohol turns my stomach.
“Hard pass.”
I take a drink of the root beer, my eyes locking with Hannah Grace who is also trying to contain her laughter.
I wag my finger at her.
“Those in glass houses. You had a two-day hangover. I was sick for a damn week after that party.”
The laughter that she’s been struggling to contain bursts free, and I try to hold back a smile at the infectious sound.
“I’m not laughing at you,” she manages to get out.
“I’m not laughing,” I tell her while attempting to keep a straight face.
“You’re smiling.” She points at my face.
I cover my mouth with my hand.
“Just drink your cider,” I tell her.
“Why? Trying to get me drunk?” she challenges.
“Oh, Honey Girl, you ought to have learned by now, I much prefer you sober.” The words are low, meant only for her ears, and her quick intake of breath tells me she understood them.
Zach clears his throat, and my attention flicks to him as he lifts his glass and drains a large portion of his drink.
Sorry, not sorry, dude.
“Who’s ready for fries?”
The server is back bearing a large platter of fries covered in sausage gravy and cheddar cheese.
Braeden’s phone buzzes and he glances at it before groaning.
“Fuck, I knew a Friday night off was too good to be true.” He stands and tosses a twenty on the table. “Sorry, guys, the new guy didn’t show up tonight and my boss needs me to close.”
“We could come hang out with you?” Hannah Grace offers.
Braeden shakes his head. “Tonight’s college night. No way do you need to be anywhere near that madness, Gracie Lou.”
He reaches out and taps his index finger against the tip of her nose.
“Have fun tonight.”
“It would be more fun with you here,” she pouts.
“Next time,” he says.
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
With a wave he’s gone.
And then there were three.