Chapter 35
RYDER
“Hey. Wake up.”
Heavy warmth surrounds me, and the soft prickle of stubble brushes against my temple.
“Come on. Wake up. I want to show you something.”
I inhale the scent of clean, fresh-cut grass, and I want to stay right here. I don’t open my eyes, carefully examining the way I feel.
Cole’s long, heavy arm is wrapped around me, and his hand is spread across my back. My legs are pressed against his. The soft material underneath my cheek, and I absorb the slow, steady beat of his heart.
If I move, I have to think about what this means and what it shouldn’t.
His lips press to my forehead. “Come on. We need to get going before the whole house wakes.”
I groan, irritated that he’s interrupting the only time I’ve ever snuggled someone. That thought has me pulling away just a little and running a hand over my face.
“Hey.”
I peek at him. He’s pushed up on one elbow, peering down at me.
“Get dressed. I’ll make coffee, and we’ll hit the road.”
Hit the road?
He looks all calm, cool, and confident, as if kissing and snuggling are something we’ve been doing forever.
Ripples of uncertainty course through my stomach.
“Ryder.” His voice is soft. “Everything is fine. It’s just me. Ok?” He pushes a strand of hair out of my eye. “I want to show you something.” He rolls out of bed. “So, let’s go.”
He grabs clothes and disappears into the bathroom.
Just let yourself explore.
I’m totally and completely screwed. Kerry and all her simple exploration shit have left me high and dry in the middle of a giant pool of unpredictability.
It’s dangerous, all these feelings, and Cole, with his tender patience and uninformed promises.
He just keeps taking my well-built determination and yanking it right out of my control.
I pull the covers over my head.
Damn him.
He said everything is fine. I have to choose to believe him, or freaking the hell out will win. I have nowhere to run and hide or access to the severe therapy I need at the moment.
I force myself to be brave and sit up. “Where exactly are we going?”
He peeks his head out of the bathroom. “You’ll have to wait and see.”
I roll off the bed.
Ugh. Cole needs to understand I loathe surprises.
Fifteen minutes later, I climb into the truck with him, and it’s still dark. “Seriously, where are we going? As your protection, it’s my job to know.”
He glances at me, those lips curling, loving holding this over me. “I can assure you, this will be fine.”
I look at him from underneath my eyelashes as he backs out of the driveway. “It’s necessary that we leave while the sun is still sleeping and thirty degrees out?” I shiver.
“Jones, I didn’t know you were such a grump in the morning. I’ll remember this.”
He reaches across the center console and grabs my hand, his warm fingers wrapping around my cold ones.
An hour later, he turns into a long, snow-covered lane. The headlights light up the tall evergreens on either side. Eventually, the trees clear, and he stops the truck in front of a small, dark cabin.
I glance around as he shuts the truck off, and everything goes dark. “Uh, what is this?”
Cole leans in the back and hands me a puffy coat and a pair of snow boots. “Put these on.”
I stare at him.
“They’re Hank’s, so they might be a little big, but they should work.”
He pushes the door open, but I grab his arm.
“Cole, what is this place? I can’t let you—”
He leans toward me, his fingers brushing against my cheek. He’s making it very difficult to do my job.
“There are no tracks in the snow. No one knows about this place. Plus, I’m sure you’re packing enough heat to take out a bear.”
He climbs out of the truck. “Hurry up. Put those on. You don’t want to miss this.”
I quickly tug on the boots, watching him climb the few stairs and unlock the door.
I hop out, shoving my Sig in my holster, and he waits for me. “Bears?”
He smiles, flipping on a light, and we step into an old, rustic cabin. A small kitchen is in the corner with a table and four chairs. Across from a large picture window is a couch with a flat-screen TV and a fireplace in the corner. In the back is a set of double doors that lead outside.
“What is this?” I ask, having never seen anything like it other than in the movies.
Cole sets his keys and a large thermos on the table. “I bought it right after I signed with the Stingrays.” He pauses, taking in the space. “I wanted a place to come home to that was my own.”
I survey the space again. Its hardwood floors and log walls make it feel warm and cozy. This is not where I would have ever pictured Cole living, and yet I can one hundred percent see it. It’s so completely fitting for this man.
“Well, it’s. . .nice, but what are we doing here?”
He laughs, reaching around me to grab a thick coat off the wall, then tugs a beanie down over his ears.
“I want to show you something, and if you’ll just be patient, I think you’ll like it.” He reaches over my head again, grabs another hat, and places it on my head, making sure it covers my ears.
He pulls a pair of mismatched mugs from a cabinet. “Come on.” He smiles that amazing smile and crosses the small space, opening one of the doors.
I follow him into the dark because it’s my job, but I also want to see what he’s so excited about.
The cold air stings my nostrils as I follow Cole to a bench resting against the cabin. There’s darkness all around us, but the bright snow illuminates the land and trees.
I sit on the bench beside Cole as he pours coffee and hands me a mug. I take a sip, still able to smell the pine over the steaming liquid.
Cole kicks his boots out in front of him, crossing his ankles and settling in, so I rest back, waiting to see what exactly we’re doing.
We sit in silence, drinking coffee, our warm breath billowing into the cold air. I zip my coat over my mouth and hunch down, the icy air biting my skin.
“You cold?” Cole’s soft voice breaks the absolute stillness around us.
It’s so quiet it’s almost too much for my system to handle, sending my senses into overdrive.
“My body isn’t used to temps below sixty.”
Cole slides his arm around me and pulls me to his side, sharing his body heat. “It won’t be much longer.”
I burrow into him as, bit by bit, the sky begins to waken, turning from purple to green to gray. I begin to make out a clearing in the trees before us.
The sky changes to orange, but below is a sea of black glass.
I sit up a little taller, taking it in. The snow-covered ground is interrupted by water so smooth it mirrors the sky.
The sun gently peeks over the trees and casts its soft golden glow over the stillness, like it’s checking in on the land and water.
I lean forward. “I’ve never seen anything like this,” I whisper in complete awe.
Cole shifts away and stands, holding out his hand. “Come on.”
I take it, following him down the stairs and toward the water. Our boots crunching in the snow is the only sound. We stop close to the rocky shore, where water gently laps over rocks with animal tracks scattered about.
My eyes roam over the pond and the trees, taking in the magnificence and beauty. The utter calmness.
I’ve never known a peace like this, and the feeling overwhelms me.
I blink fast, attempting to push it away.
Cole’s arms fall around me, his chin resting on the top of my head. “It’s amazing, isn’t it?”
I can’t speak, trying to take it all in. I slip away from him and step closer to the edge of the water. I squat to run my fingers through it, needing the cold to shock the pain of never knowing this kind of serenity. All of the fear and confusion and anger. . .
It’s all. . .drowned out by the peacefulness and radiant beauty.
When I can’t take it anymore, I shove my burning fingers in my pocket. “It’s so quiet.” My breath fills the air before me. “It’s like. . .the rest of the world doesn’t even exist.”
I hear his steps, and he stops behind me. “It’s my favorite place to be. Where all the noise is far away.”
I focus on the stillness, letting it soothe everything that has longed for exactly this.
“Does it? Keep all the noise away?” My throat burns. I want to know because I might never leave.
He takes another step closer. “It does a pretty damn good job.”
I huff out a laugh, needing the well of pain to drain from my throat. “I’d need it to work miracles.”
I breathe in the cold, fresh air, wanting to savor it and seal in every scent and the soundlessness. The way the chilly air hits my face and lungs, knowing beyond the water and the trees, the darkness that awaits.
“Some things are just too loud to ever quiet.”