Chapter 25 Freya
FREYA
Ishake my head, trying to clear my racing thoughts.
“Cole, what does—”
“Cole, my man,” a guy shouts as he emerges from what I assume is a kitchen at the back of the huge room.
The row of people serving food quickly look up, followed by everyone else.
The moment they recognize Cole, their faces light up.
It’s different from the looks of awe I’ve seen at the arena, though.
They’re not enthralled because he’s incredible at his job.
Okay, I’m sure there is an element of that, but they’re excited to see him because of who he is as a person, not a player.
I glance at the man in question just in time to see him almost sheepishly lift his hand to greet everyone.
If I didn’t see it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t think that it was possible for this giant of a man to be bashful. But he totally is.
Like all the players on the team, he’s had media training.
I’ve seen him doing post-game interviews.
While he might not be the most enthusiastic in front of a camera—that award definitely goes to either Linc or Killer—Cole is still strong, confident, and professional.
All that seems to have been forgotten as his cheeks burn a shade brighter.
“Incredible game last night,” the guy continues as he closes in on us.
“Uh, yeah. It wasn’t too bad,” Cole mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. “Jet, this is Freya,” he says, successfully changing the conversation.
Jet’s eyes find mine, and a smile curls at his lips. “I see,” he says, looking entirely too smug about my presence. “And who is Freya? You haven’t been holding out on me, have you, bro?”
Cole shakes his head. “Freya is my chef.”
Jet’s eyes widen. “Chef? Well, why didn’t you say that sooner? You know we need all the help we can get around here.”
“Oh, um…”
“No need to look so terrified,” Jet says encouragingly. “If you can handle this big brute, then you’ll be fine here. They’re all a big bunch of teddy bears, really,” he says, gesturing toward all the people, most of whom are watching us fondly.
“Where do you want us, boss?” Cole asks.
“Right this way. It would be rude to hide this pretty face back in the kitchen,” Jet says, shooting me a teasing wink. “I think you two should take over the soup and roll station, and we can send Greg out the back.”
“You got it,” Cole agrees as he unhooks two aprons from behind the serving station. He hands one to me before pointing me in the direction of the hand-washing facilities.
“Jet,” an older woman calls, panicked, from the double doors that hide the kitchen. “Problem.”
“Be right there, Marg,” he says, a hell of a lot calmer than she is. “You two okay?”
“I’m sure we can handle the soup,” Cole says confidently.
I glance over suspiciously as he dries his hands.
“What?” he asks with an uneasy smile.
He’s nervous. I assume about bringing me here and letting me see a little more of the real him. But he has no reason to be. I feel nothing but honored to experience this secret part of him.
“Does Jet know about your skills in the kitchen?”
“Shush,” Cole hisses, his smile growing. “Don’t tell him about that. He might refuse my help.”
Now it’s my turn to smile, because there isn’t a chance in hell that Jet is going to send Cole away. I could see in a single look between them how much he appreciates Cole’s presence, and how much Cole enjoys his time here.
Do I have questions? Heaps. Especially after what he said about being alone. But they can wait. Right now, I want to see Cole in his element, interacting with the men and women here, and attempting to do what he said earlier: making their lives that little bit better.
“You know how to dish out soup, though, right?” I tease.
“Spoon liquid into a bowl. I think I’ve got it, Whirlwind.”
My breath catches at his use of that nickname again.
My lips part to question him about it, but before I find any words, someone calls out for him.
Cole marches toward our station and greets the guy who’s desperate for his attention. He lights up instantly as they begin talking, and I get my first taste of just how much he loves his time here.
And that is proved over and over again as he serves hungry customer after hungry customer.
Cole takes the time to speak to everyone.
It doesn’t matter if it’s a regular who he greets like an old friend, or a newcomer who doesn’t know who he is.
The only thing that matters to him are the people on the other side of the counter.
I soon discover that it’s not just Cole whose attention they want.
They’re all eager to talk to me as well.
We spend hours at the shelter. And after serving hundreds of bowls of soup and handing out almost double the number of bread rolls, then helping with the clean-up and prep for dinner, I decide that I want to do it all again.
The past few years, I’ve lived a life that has been so focused on the person standing beside me, and then doing everything I could to keep myself together after he dropped me, I’ve forgotten just how good it can be to step outside of the day-to-day and focus on those who need a little extra support.
It’s probably been one of the most humbling and rewarding days I’ve ever experienced, and I’m incredibly grateful to Cole for bringing me along.
I can’t lie; I’m exhausted by the time we’ve said goodbye to Jet and his team. My hangover has been long forgotten, and I can’t wipe the smile off my face.
When Cole invited me to his secret outing, I never in a million years would have predicted this, but I’m so happy he shared it with me.
“So?” he says as we make our way back down the dingy alleyway toward his car.
“So what?” I ask, his attention making my skin tingle.
“Did you hate it?” he asks, sounding genuinely concerned.
“What? Are you kidding? It was fantastic.”
“Really? I know that hanging out with the homeless isn’t everyone’s cup of tea.”
“Everyone was incredible. And they love you.”
“Well,” he says, with a teasing smile.
I can’t help but laugh. “It was nice seeing that side of you,” I confess.
He nods, lost in his own thoughts for a moment.
“Not many do,” he finally says before unlocking his car and pulling the passenger door open for me.
I pause just before I climb in and look up into his eyes.
“Thank you,” I breathe. “For showing me. I really loved it.”
A smile twitches at the corners of his lips.
He doesn’t say anything. But I don’t think he needs to.
The longer the silence stretches, the harder it becomes to breathe. I swear, the air turns thick between us as I wait for him to say or do something.
When his deep voice finally breaks through the tension, it startles me.
“Do you fancy having the night off?” he asks, making my brows pinch together.
“W-what do you mean?”
His eyes bounce between mine as he tries to read my thoughts.
“I know you’ve got a plan and that you’ve probably already prepped stuff but…do you want to go out for dinner?”
“With you?” I blurt like an idiot.
“Shit. I’m sorry. Forget it. It was a silly idea. I—”
“I’d love to, Cole,” I say, reaching out and gently squeezing his forearm.
His eyes drop to where I touch him, and I let go in a heartbeat, chastising myself for being overly friendly.
“You would?”
“Yeah.”
He nods and takes a step back, allowing me to drop into the car without bumping him.
“Yeah, okay. Great,” he mumbles.
The second I’m in, he closes the door and turns his back on me.
I watch as he walks around the hood, lost in his own head.
“Is everything okay?” I ask when he joins me, sensing anxiety rolling off him in waves. “We don’t have to go for food. I’m happy to cook,” I assure him in case he’s regretting saying anything.
“I don’t…” he starts before dragging his hand down his face and letting his head fall back. “I don’t usually let people get involved with this part of my life.”
The need to say something burns through me, but I choose to keep quiet, giving him space to get his words out, should he want to.
“What I said earlier, when we first went in—”
“You don’t owe me any kind of explanation, Cole,” I say, the words tumbling free before I can catch them.
“No, I know that. I just…for the first time, possibly ever, I want to tell you. I want you to know me. The real me. All the ugly bits that make me the person I am today.”
“There’s nothing ugly about you,” I assure him.
He mutters something unintelligible before starting the engine and putting the car into drive.
“So what’s for dinner then?” I ask as he pulls out.
“I know the perfect place.”
As he drives, he keeps the conversation light and away from talk of his past and reasons for volunteering at the shelter. As much as I might want to know, I respect him and trust that if he wants me to know, he’ll tell me when he’s ready.
Before long, we’re pulling into a steakhouse on the outskirts of town. It’s fairly quiet, and he pulls into a parking space almost right outside the doors.
The second we walk inside, the scent hits me, and my stomach grumbles. We might have spent all afternoon surrounded by food, but neither of us ate a single bite of it. There were people in much greater need than us.
We both eagerly take the menus from the server, and after she fills our water glasses, we focus on filling our stomachs.
I decide what I want quickly, and only a few minutes later, the server returns to take our order. He quickly writes down my filet steak with a side of fries and sauteed mushrooms before turning to Cole, who, I swear, orders almost half the menu.
“What’s that look for?” he asks once we’re alone again.
My stomach knots uncomfortably. “Am I feeding you enough?”
He tries to fight his reaction, but he can’t keep the smile off his face.
“Yes, you’re feeding me enough. Trust me, if you weren’t, I’d tell you.”
“Promise?”
“I promise,” he says as he reaches for his water glass and drinks it down.
“And you’re happy with the meals I’m making and how I cook it all and—”
“You’re incredible,” he interrupts.
I’m not sure where my sudden bout of nerves comes from. Maybe it’s because we’re about to sit together and eat a meal made by a real chef that’s put me on edge. But whatever it is, I don’t like it. And from the way Cole is looking at me, I don’t think he does either.
“Everything you’ve done so far has been great. You have nothing to worry about.”
My shoulders relax, and I reach for my own glass.
“Would you like a glass of wine with your meal?”
“No,” I say in a rush, making him laugh.
“Too soon?” he teases.
“Much too soon,” I mutter, remembering this morning’s hangover and events all too clearly.
Silence falls, but it’s not uncomfortable, as we both lose ourselves in our thoughts.
I startle when Cole suddenly speaks—and the words that burst from his lips shock the hell out of me.