14. Cole
Cole
The minute I walked into the house from the garage, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.
Something was wrong.
The lights on the first floor were still on, so with my heart in my throat, I called out, “Bridget!”
I was met with nothing but silence.
Hastening my steps, I checked every room downstairs before doing the same upstairs.
Bridget was nowhere to be found.
She wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye, would she?
The mere thought made my chest constrict, and breathing became a struggle.
But all her stuff was still in the guest room. That meant she had to be around here somewhere, right?
It wouldn’t be the first time she’s fled without any of her possessions.
I gripped two fistfuls of my hair and tugged.
Fuck.
Did something happen that spooked her? That made her feel she had no other option but to run?
I hated thinking that she was out there somewhere, alone and scared.
Collapsing onto the mattress, I dropped my head into my hands.
This couldn’t be happening. It felt as though God was playing a cruel trick on me, bringing the woman I loved back into my life only to rip her away again.
Losing Bridget the first time had sent me careening into a tailspin that had taken nearly a decade to course correct from. I was terrified of what might happen to me the second time. Was I even strong enough to survive it?
Cinder rubbed against my leg, and with a heavy sigh, I lifted my head, dropping one hand to pet him. “Hey, boy.”
He stared up at me with his big blue eyes and let out a meow.
“Yeah, I know. I miss her already too.”
As he butted his head against my hand, there was a more insistent meow, and I realized what he wanted.
When he was still a kitten, I’d bought a cat puzzle which had compartments to hide treats.
Cinder was smart; he figured out how to slide the pieces to reveal the treats hidden beneath and to flip the lids to gobble up even more of them within a week.
Soon, it became our nightly tradition. If I went into the kitchen after sunset, he was all over me, anticipating the moment when I would grab the box of treats from the top of the fridge and fill the puzzle.
“All right. All right. Come on.” I rose to my feet.
Cinder bolted past me, down the stairs, his meows becoming more frequent and increasing in volume.
He was waiting by the fridge when I finally made it into the kitchen. One shake of the treat canister, and he took off running to the living room, where the empty puzzle lay near his cat bed.
Crouching, I had to fend him off with one hand so he didn’t go to town on the treats before I had a chance to fill every compartment.
“Okay, have at it, bud.” I stood, watching as he made quick work of uncovering the treats and hungrily chowed down.
Motion caught the corner of my eye, and I lifted my gaze to the wall of pane glass windows. The light coming from inside the house illuminated enough of the patio so that I could see a figure seated on the swing bolted to the overhang, and my knees nearly buckled in relief.
My feet moved automatically, and I slid the glass door open before stepping onto the patio.
Willing my racing heart to settle, I shoved both hands into my pockets. “Hey. What are you doing out here?”
Bridget stared straight ahead, clutching a chunky-knit cardigan tighter to her chest. “Who’s Kennedy?”
Hearing my ex-wife’s name fall from her lips acted like a sledgehammer to my gut, knocking the wind out of me.
It took a full minute to recover, and even then, my voice came out strained. “I can explain—”
When her head whipped around, there was so much hurt swimming in her green eyes. If it were within my power, I would go back to the night I met Kennedy and walk out of that bar without a second glance. But since I couldn’t change the past, the only option I had was to own up to it.
Gripping the back of my neck, I said, “She’s my ex-wife.”
Bridget’s inhale was so sharp it sliced through my insides. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
My head dropped against the exterior of the house. “There really wasn’t anything to tell. That chapter of my life is over.”
“Why is she still coming to your games?”
That had been a point of contention between Kennedy and me for the past two years.
I’d asked her multiple times to stop attending, but she was adamant about continuing to support my career—mainly because she still believed there was a chance that we would reconnect.
At the end of the day, I couldn’t control who the Surf sold season tickets to, so I couldn’t exactly stop her from showing up.
“I’ll admit she’s having a hard time accepting the finality of our divorce.”
Her throat bobbed on a swallow. “She’s still in love with you.”
“Yeah,” I admitted.
“And you?” she prompted.
I responded with a definitive “No.” Now was not the time to confess that it was impossible to still be in love with someone you had never truly loved in the first place.
“Why—?” She cut herself off with a shake of her head. “Never mind, it’s really none of my business.”
“I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”
Bridget chewed on her lower lip. “Why did you split up?”
Time to lay all my cards on the table.
“The reason on record was infidelity.” At the horrified expression on her face, I quickly corrected, “On her end.”
Because she was intuitive as hell, my girl picked up on my careful word choice. “And off the record?”
“She wasn’t you.”
Bridget’s lips parted on a gasp. “What are you saying?”
“That my marriage to Kennedy was doomed from day one. She was the bandage I slapped over the gaping bullet wound that losing you left behind. I knew it was wrong then but pushed forward anyway. I thought it was the only way—” My emotions got the better of me, making it impossible to continue.
She rose from the swing. “The only way for what?”
Hanging my head in shame, I confessed, “The only way to honor Russ’s dying wish.”
Her eyes went wide as saucers, and her mouth dropped open.
It took a minute for her to find her voice. “What are you talking about?”
“He, um, he asked me to watch out for you after he was gone. I felt like the world’s shittiest friend for how badly I’d betrayed him by sneaking around with you behind his back for all those years.
The night he died—” Tears sprang to my eyes to match the ones pouring down Bridget’s face.
“Reeling from missing him and missing you, I got wasted at a bar. I wanted to call you so fucking badly, to tell you I was sorry—about Russ, about breaking your heart—and that I loved you more than anything in this world.”
Full-on sobbing now, Bridget barely managed to get words out between gasping breaths. “Why—Why didn’t you?”
“Somehow, I got it into my booze-soaked brain that the best way to honor Russ’s memory was by keeping my hands off his little sister.
But you’ve always been like an addiction I can’t shake, and I knew I’d come crawling back to you eventually.
I met Kennedy in the bar that night, and I saw her as an opportunity to remove the temptation you posed once and for all.
I stole years of her life she won’t get back, and I wasn’t there for you when you needed me the most. And that’s something I’ll never forgive myself for. ”
A trembling hand lifted to cover her mouth.
“I fucked up, Bridget. So badly. A decision I made altered the course of three lives, none of them for the better. I’ll have to live with the guilt of what I’ve done to you, to myself, to Kennedy, until my dying day.”
I’d racked up a trifecta of trophies to line my imaginary shelf.
World’s Worst Friend.
World’s Worst Husband.
World’s Worst Protector.
An uncomfortable silence descended, stretching on for what felt like hours.
Until, finally, Bridget’s raspy voice said, “I’m going to bed.”
My heart dropped to my stomach. Those four words were enough to snuff out the spark of hope inside my chest that maybe we could find our way back together. It had been foolish to think there wouldn’t be consequences for the colossal mistake I’d made all those years ago.
Stepping aside, I muttered a resigned “Night” as she slipped inside the house.
When she closed the glass door behind her, it felt symbolic, like there would forever be a barrier between us—one where I could see her but would never be allowed to touch her.
And there was no one else to blame for that but me.
“Damn, big brother, you look like shit.”
“Mmm.” I didn’t bother looking up as I laced my skates.
“Trouble in paradise already?” Crew joked, but it hit a little too close to home, and the motion of my fingers paused just enough that he picked up on it. “Uh-oh, whaddya do?”
My chest expanded on a deep inhale before I admitted, “Bridget found out about Kennedy.”
There was a beat of silence before he responded. “I’m sorry, found out?”
I straightened, running a hand through my hair. “Best guess is Kennedy was identified in the stands during the broadcast of last night’s game.”
“Hold on, you’re telling me that the woman you’re with learned about the woman you spent six years married to from someone else?”
When he said it like that, it sounded even worse.
In order to delay the inevitable lecture from my twin, I focused on the detail he’d gotten wrong. “I’m not with Bridget.”
“Yet,” he corrected. “You’re not with her yet. Don’t think you’re going to get off on a technicality here.”
“Fine,” I huffed. “You’re right. I should have been the one to tell her about my past.”
“See, was that so hard?”
My teeth were gritted hard enough to crack a molar. “Yes.”
“I’m guessing she didn’t take it well?”
I grunted, unwilling to give him any more ammunition.
He tsked. “You know, if you’d listened to me in the first place, all of this could have been avoided.”
There was no denying that Crew had tried really, really hard to talk me out of marrying Kennedy.
At the knock on my hotel room door, I jumped up to answer it, excitement thrumming in my veins.
Unlatching the deadbolt, I pulled it open to reveal my twin on the other side.
Crew wasted no time in pulling me in for a tight hug. “Fuck, I’ve missed you, man.”
I gave him a few hard pats on the back. “Same.”
While we’d both been drafted by the San Diego Surf, we were still waiting for a call from our agent that they were ready for us to sign our entry-level contracts.
So in the meantime, we were biding our time in juniors, playing on different teams for the first time in our entire lives.
Hell, we weren’t even in the same time zone these days, with me in Vancouver and him outside of Toronto, making it harder than ever to connect.
When we broke apart, I stepped back to let him into the room.
He parked his carry-on next to the queen bed closest to the window before turning around. “You nervous about the game tonight?”
My team, the BC Bullets, were playing for the Western Junior League Championship against our bitter rivals, the Edmonton Griffins. Crew’s team hadn’t advanced to the finals in the Ontario Junior League, so he’d come to cheer me on.
“Not as nervous as I am about tomorrow,” I confessed.
My twin’s brows drew down. “Tomorrow? What’s going on tomorrow?”
I threw on a fake-as-hell smile, brightening my voice. “I’m getting married.”
Crew doubled over, his laughter echoing throughout the space. When he began to calm down, he slapped his thigh. “Oh, man, that was a good one.”
“I’m not joking.”
The humor in his eyes faded away. “What the hell do you mean, you’re getting married? To who?”
“To Kennedy. Who else?”
“That chick you met a month ago?”
Six weeks, if we were counting, but close enough.
“Have you lost your damn mind?” he roared.
Most definitely, but you wouldn’t hear me admitting it out loud.
Instead, I dug my heels in, prepared to defend my decision.
“We love each other,” I declared, lying through my teeth. At best, Kennedy was infatuated with me, and I couldn’t give my heart to her because it already belonged to Bridget.
Crew fake gagged. “Spare me.”
“If you gave her a chance, got to know her—”
“You barely know her!” he shouted. “And it doesn’t make any sense why you’d be rushing into this unless . . .” A loud groan spilled into the air, and he scrubbed a hand down his face. “Oh God, you got her pregnant, didn’t you?”
“No, she’s not pregnant.”
Hell, we hadn’t even slept together yet. I hadn’t been able to stomach the thought—Bridget was the only woman I’d ever been intimate with—but I’d be forced to buck up soon with the wedding night looming in a little over twenty-four hours.
Hauling in a deep breath, my brother said, “Losing Russ was hard.”
My palm rubbed against the ache that had taken up residence beneath my sternum since the day my best friend died.
“You’re still grieving. I am too.”
Voice thick, I said, “Not sure what that has to do with any of this.”
“My head’s been so fucked up since it happened that I started seeing a therapist. It’s helped a lot, but from the start, he’s been insistent that I not make any major life decisions right now because grief impairs your ability to think clearly.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” I shot back. “For the first time in my life, I am thinking clearly.”
“I refuse to believe that.”
I folded both arms over my chest. “It really doesn’t matter what you believe, because it won’t change my mind.”
A cry of frustration rolled up his throat. “You’re impossible!”
I blew out a heavy breath. “Look, I really don’t want to fight about this with my best man.”
Crew’s eyes bulged. “Best man? You’re kidding, right?”
Years ago, we’d worked it out so that we would take turns as best man for each other. I was going to be Crew’s, Russ was going to be mine, and Crew would be Russ’s. Obviously, that arrangement no longer worked.
“You’re more than my brother; you’re my twin. Of course I’d want you to stand beside me on the biggest day of my life.”
“No.” He gave a firm shake of his head. “I refuse to watch you make a huge mistake.”
I stood there stunned into silence. Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined my identical twin wouldn’t attend my wedding.
“I need to get out of here.” Crew pushed past me toward the door.
At the last second, I called out, “Wait!”
His hand paused on the handle, but he didn’t turn around, uttering a weary “What?”
“You’re really not coming tomorrow?”
Shoulders slumping, he replied, “I love you, but I just can’t, Cole.”
Then he was gone, and the pit in my stomach grew heavier than ever.
In choosing Kennedy, had I lost my brother?
“All right, I’ll fix it for you,” Crew declared.
“Huh?” I hadn’t been listening while stuck in the past.
“The whole Bridget thing. I’ll get you out of the doghouse.”
I stood, pulling on my shoulder pads. “And how do you propose to do that?”
He smirked. “Easy. I come over and diffuse the tension between you.”
“You’re delusional if you think your mere presence is enough to smooth things over.”
Crew lifted one shoulder. “Maybe, but what do you have to lose?”
I guess it was worth a shot. It’s not like he could make this worse, right?