Chapter 33
RYDER
It’s day two. I lie staring at the ceiling, listening to the calming sound of Cole’s long inhale, pause, long exhale, and wondering what today will be like.
Yesterday was a whirlwind after the awkward introduction.
We spent the day playing games. I should have guessed it, but this family is competitive.
I’ve never seen so many arguments and fights over plastic pieces and cardboard.
But they always ended in a wrestling match and rolling fits of laughter.
It all melted into an afternoon and evening of football, basketball, chalk, and skateboards.
I have a family, but I’ve never experienced this. The type of homegrown love and affection these people exude. The kind that comes from loving one another from the beginning. It’s sharing a history and a past that no one else could ever fully understand.
It rubbed against scar tissue, but strangely, also soothed the ache of each tender spot. Witnessing this family bond and the love that comes with it is proof that it really does exist.
The blankets on the floor beside me rustle.
Cole is in his place with his people. He’s a smiler, but I’ve never seen him laugh and smile like this, so completely relaxed. Watching him with the kids and sitting slumped on the couch with a tiny baby on his chest has taken my insides and squished them all to hell.
It’s poking and prodding each dark place where nothing but ash and soot remain.
But Cole, in all his confidently patient and gentle ways, is brushing it aside where things are sprouting forth and coming alive.
And it hurts. It’s a deep burning ache, but also something light and fluttery that steals my breath.
Whatever it is, I need it all to settle down, but no matter how many times I try to shove it away, soon enough, it floats right back up.
Tracker needs to uncover something quickly so we can go home and have life return to normal. Although I’m not sure what normal even is anymore.
I roll onto my side, tucking the covers under my chin.
Just feel one thing at a time. Be patient. Let myself explore.
I pull the covers over my face and inhale long and slow.
My phone buzzes. Then again. A minute later, it vibrates twice more.
“Who’s blowing up your phone?” Cole’s sleepy voice comes from down below.
“Sorry,” I whisper, snatching it off the nightstand and silencing it.
JAMIE: Ry is in Denver with The Assignment?!
JOS: Yep. I flew them out. You know what this means.
VAN: What’s in Denver?
JOS: The Assignment’s family.
LYLA: WHAT?!
VAN: Since when can you keep a secret, Jos?
JOS: I was on duty, duh?
LYLA: Van, tap into the security system so we can watch.
I stifle a laugh with the quilt.
“Something funny?” Cole yawns and sits up, stretching.
“Nothing.” I drop my phone as it buzzes again.
Cole’s sleepy eyes study me closely in the dim light, and a warm sensation creeps through my belly and spreads.
Ooooohhhhh, shit.
Everything is fine. Be patient.
I turn on the lamp and climb out of bed, pulling clothes from my suitcase. “So, what are we doing today?”
He stands, lifting his arms over his head and rolling his wrist. “Maggie said we’re having Thanksgiving today, but she’s ordering pizza.”
I pull a T-shirt and jeans from my suitcase. “What does Thanksgiving entail?”
He sits on the end of the bed. “Probably more of the same. We stopped having turkey a year or two ago. The big traditional meal is too much with everyone’s schedule. My brother Hank has a match, so we’ll stream that and play Bingo. Sometimes, we play football in the yard or have a Nerf gunfight.”
I turn toward him, raising an eyebrow at the thought of a gunfight.
His lips curve upward, his chin bobbing once in my direction. “I’ve got dibs on you.”
My stomach does a little flippy thing.
Damn him.
I bend down to find a bra, squashing it. “Bingo?”
“Yeah, it’s a tradition. It gets a little crazy, though. My mom started it when Maggie and I were kids.”
Cole has only spoken of his mom once, when he told me she was a dancer. I didn’t ask questions, but being here has made me curious. From news articles, I learned she died when a car lost control and ran her down on the sidewalk when Cole was only six-years-old.
I peek at him over my shoulder, easing the question out. “Your mom, huh?”
He braces his arms on his legs. “Yeah. She thought it was fun to collect the stuff that we didn’t pick up. We had to win it back. We didn’t play for years after she died, but when Maggie became the kids’ guardian, she brought it back. It gets heated when there’s good stuff in the box.”
I want to ask more, but not push in an area that is none of my business. I also know asking questions leads to tables being turned.
I drop down beside him, my stomach slapping my insides in warning.
It’ll be ok. Just let yourself explore.
“Sounds fun.” I pause, then go for it, ignoring my common sense. “So, your mom died, and your dad met someone else?”
More recent articles showed his dad with a woman, whom I assume is the kids’ mom.
Cole glances at me. “Yeah, a few years later. Hank was born shortly after. I didn’t know it then, but my dad started having noticeable cognitive issues.
He wasn’t all there.” He taps his head. “After Liv was born, my dad declined fast. Their mom decided motherhood wasn’t the life she wanted and took off.
They divorced, and Maggie came home to take care of them. He was in a facility until he died.”
I try to process it all. Cole was so young when his mom died, and his dad continued to play football for a few years after. Then, he married and had more children.
Cole’s head hangs, staring at his hands, lost in thought.
I can imagine how lonely he must have felt, surrounded by people but alone. It’s no wonder he keeps himself closed off and isolated.
A thousand lightbulbs go on in my head, and so much falls into place. Cole lives for football. The game ties him to his dad and to the time they spent together. It was the one thing he had when he lost everything else.
I have the urge to lean over and hug him tight, but—
“How about you?”
I side-eye him, my arms tense with indecision.
“Did you know your parents?”
My erratic stomach drops to my pelvic floor and lands hard.
I knew this would lead to questions. I tuck my hair behind my ear, needing to get myself out of it.
It’d be ok if he knew. Would it?
“No.” My heart kicks into a jog, and I fist the clothes on my lap. “Track and Hope are the closest I’ll ever know to parents.”
“Did you. . .grow up in foster care?” he asks, so carefully and softly, but it feels like a boot being slammed into my chest.
I stand, needing these questions to stop. “Briefly.” It’s all I can say.
Sensing it, he also stands, and I feel him watching me.
“I need to check in with Track and see if they have any leads.”
He watches me as I gather my stuff.
“Ok.” His gentle voice bounces off my back. “I’ll head up and see what the plan is for today.”
I nod but don’t make eye contact, quickly shutting myself in the bathroom.
I sit on the edge of the tub, dropping my head in my hands.
What the hell am I doing?
I breathe in and out, the burn in my throat swelling it shut. I won’t fucking cry about this—what I think I might want and what can never be.
How could I possibly let someone so good and so beautiful see?
Where I started, the places I’ve been, and the things I’ve done. . .how could it ever be ok?
I swipe at the damp streak on my cheek. He said he didn’t want me to hide from him, but he doesn’t know. He can’t even begin to understand.
It’s so clear being here with his family. The world they exist in and come from. He and I are light and dark. Two entirely different universes.
Cole’s life hasn’t been easy. He’s been hurt, ignored, and left alone, letting a sport raise him. But he’s been loved deeply. He comes from beauty and goodness. I come from the fiery depths of hell.
I stand, splashing my face with cold water, and force my eyes to the mirror.
If I let him see it all, what would he say?
I squeeze my eyes shut tight, the coward in me never wanting to find out.
This is a job. Just a job.
I swallow hard, shoving it all way down deep where it can’t hurt anyone.
I dress and dial Track as I braid my hair. He fills me in on the leads they’re following, none of which seem promising. Then, I carry myself up the stairs to do what I’m here to do—protect Cole. Even if that’s from me.
Halfway up, the scent of maple and bacon wafts through the air, along with music and laughter. I pause in the doorway to the kitchen.
Cole stands in the center, dancing with Liv to Whitney Houston’s “I Wanna Dance With Somebody.”
I suspected Cole could really dance, but I had no idea.
His moves are sharp and graceful at the same time.
Maggie crosses the room with Aiden on her hip, stopping to join in while the boys bob their heads and sing along as they shove large chunks of syrupy pancakes into their mouths.
Shane is at the table holding Quinn, seemingly unaffected by the entertainment.
Cole’s bright blue eyes snap to me, and a grin takes over his mouth, but it quickly morphs into a sly smirk.
His hand extends toward me, his pointer finger beckoning me to him.
Oh, no. Nope. Not happening.
I start backing away, but he’s too quick. He grabs my hand and tugs me into the kitchen.
“You owe me, Jones.” One hand slides around my lower back as Liv booty bumps us from below.
“I don’t owe you anything.”
He lifts my hand and places it on his shoulder. “Umm. Yes, you do. And I’m collecting.”
He pulls me closer, and I survey the room.
My heart beats a million miles a minute while my lungs forget they need to expand and contract. Surprisingly, no one seems to pay attention, as if this happens every day—Cole and me dancing in the middle of the kitchen.
My palms ooze a cold sweat, but Cole keeps a firm hold, not caring in the least. He eases us side to side.