Chapter 26
COLE
“I’ve never been on a date before.”
I don’t know why I make that confession. But sitting here on opposite sides of a table for two with a candle—albeit fake—between us feels entirely too intimate for employees. But then, everything recently between us hasn’t felt very professional.
She slept in my bed in only her lingerie, for fuck’s sake.
“This…this isn’t a date,” she stutters, looking a little like she’s about to run out of the restaurant in fear.
“No, I know that. I was just…” What the fuck am I doing?
I exhale a heavy breath.
“I was just saying. I’ve never been on one. I hook up with women. I’ve never…had anything serious.”
“I wish I hadn’t either,” Freya mutters.
“He was a moron for letting you go,” I say fiercely.
“Thanks. It was for the best, though. I can see that now.”
“Whoever he was, you’re better off without him.”
She nods. “I agree. Today was a good day. Thank you for taking me to the shelter. It was fun meeting everyone. They really love you.”
“I love doing my part. Making a difference in their lives.”
“You definitely do that,” she assures me, and I really hope she’s right. Giving back to those who are struggling to find their feet means everything to me.
“I don’t have a family,” I confess, looking up at her through my lashes, terrified of her reaction.
“What? That’s crazy. Of course you do,” she argues.
I shake my head. “I don’t. I never knew who my dad was. And my mom…well, she wasn’t a mom. From as early as I can remember, I was in the system, bouncing around between awful foster parents and kids’ homes.”
“You have family,” she assures me, her eyes holding mine firmly.
“I don’t. I—”
“You’re talking about blood relations. No, you might not have any of those.
But family is so much more than that. Family are the people who love you, who care for you, who support you.
People who will be there when life gets hard and keep you standing when all you want to do is crumble.
And from where I’m standing, you have loads of those. ”
A lump crawls up my throat, and I blink quickly as my eyes burn.
“Your teammates would do anything for you, Cole, no questions asked. The coaching staff, even the front office staff, I’m sure. Jet and some of those guys today. Melvin,” she adds, mentioning the security guard from my building, whom I wasn’t aware she knew that well.
I slouch back into my seat as her words roll through me. The truth within them is hitting me incredibly hard. It’s as exhilarating as it is terrifying.
“I’m sorry, was that too much?” Freya whispers, regret dancing across her features.
“No.” In a rush, I sit forward and reach across the table for her hand.
She jumps in shock, her eyes widening before darting toward where we’re joined. The heat of her skin sears up my arm, making my heart beat a little faster.
It’s been a hot minute since I’ve touched someone, even this innocently.
Obviously, I’m not blind of my lack of action recently, but the instant she squeezed my arm out in the parking lot, I became acutely aware of the situation.
It wasn’t anything more than a friendly, reassuring squeeze, and yet my body went off at a million miles a minute.
I felt like a freaking teenager, not a fully grown man, as I stood there staring back at her.
“You’re right,” I say, forcing the words out. “I…” I swallow, dragging my eyes and, sadly, my hand away from hers as I sit back. “I've learned how to keep people on the periphery of my life. It’s safer. And I guess by doing so, I miss what’s really happening.”
“You have some incredible people around you,” Freya assures me.
I think of my closest teammates—my friends. Those who would be here if I were to call with an issue. I guess therein lies the issue. I’d never call anyone if my life imploded. I learned a long time ago to deal with my own shit and not inconvenience anyone else with it.
I know it’s not a healthy way to live, but when you’ve grown up with no one in your corner but a social worker who pushes you around like an unloved toy, it’s kind of inevitable.
“I don’t know how to let them in,” I confess quietly.
Across the table, Freya smiles, and I swear it hits me right in the chest.
“You’re doing it right now, Cole.”
Panic slams into me. My heart speeds up until I’m sure it’s about to beat out of my chest, and my temperature soars.
Whenever I’ve let someone in in the past, they’ve left me. I’ve got the battle scars to prove it.
I can’t go through that again.
“Talk to me,” she demands, having a front-row seat as I spin out.
I shake my head gently; the movement is so slight I have no idea how she even sees it, but she does.
Her lips part, I’m sure to say something that’s going to hit me upside the head once again, but she doesn’t get the chance because our server appears with our meals in hand.
“One filet with fries,” he says, lowering the plate in front of Freya. “And one rib-eye,” he adds, placing mine down. “I’ll be back with your sides. Would you like any sauces or more drinks?”
We quickly give our orders before he scurries off again.
Ignoring her food, Freya’s focus stays firmly on me.
She wants me to talk; she wants to know why I’m so scared. But I don’t think she understands that the talking, the opening myself up, only to be dropped like an unwanted piece of clothing, is the most terrifying thing in the world.
Or maybe she does.
“Don’t let it get cold,” I say, dragging my eyes from hers and picking up my knife and fork.
Silence settles around us. She doesn’t immediately do as I say, but as I cut into my steak, and my sides appear around me, movement out of the corner of my eye tells me that she finally begins eating.
I love this place. They do incredible steak. But tonight, I barely taste it. Each mouthful is bland, and all can focus on are my racing thoughts.
“Good?” I ask when I’m about halfway through my meal. Although when I look up, I discover that Freya’s barely touched hers.
She lights up the second my eyes find hers, a smile spreading. “It’s incredible.”
I study her for a beat, noting how tired she looks, and I kick myself for dragging her out here when really, she probably just wanted to go home and rest. Who wants to spend all day at a homeless shelter and then go for a meal when they’re suffering from the night before?
She should be curled up on her couch, watching a movie.
“I’m sorry for ruining your day.”
It’s weird being the one apologizing after spending so long chastising her for saying the words so often. But I am. Freya has enough to deal with in her life; the last thing she needs is for me to pile my own drama and baggage on as well.
“What? No,” she argues. “I’ve had the best day. I’m just a little tired, that’s all.”
“Shall we get it to go?”
“No,” she says fiercely. “I refuse to let you ruin a steak this good like that.”
I can’t help but laugh as she defiantly cuts herself another piece and pops it into her mouth.
“Okay, but after this, I’m taking you home.”
My breath catches at the words, but I don’t react other than that. It’s true. My apartment feels so much more like a home with her inside it.
I wait for her to argue. To tell me that she’ll drive herself back to her parents’. But she doesn’t, so I figure that she’s either taking the soft approach with me, or that she didn’t understand the meaning behind my words.
The second we’re done, I ask for the bill, and then we’re heading toward my car.
“Thank you,” Freya says once we’re both inside. “That was incredible.”
“You’re welcome. Thanks for your help today. I know the guys at the shelter appreciated it.”
“I’d love to go with you again,” she admits as I head toward home.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Just let me know when you plan to go so I can work around it.”
“Maybe a dinner date again after?” I ask with a little too much hope surging through my veins.
“Yeah, you can take me to dinner again. Don’t make it a regular thing, though, or I’ll start thinking you don’t like my cooking.”
“Not a chance. You deserve to have the night off every now and then.”
“What do you think I do when you’re away?” she teases.
“Probably still cook for yourself,” I predict.
“I ate with Casey last night,” she argues.
“And the other nights?”
“So, what time are you due at the arena tomorrow?” she asks, blatantly changing the course of our conversation.
“You’re funny.”
“I’m really not,” she mutters, a little dejection filtering into her voice.
“Whoever told you that had a shitty sense of humor, Freya,” I say sternly.
Honestly, I fucking hate her ex.
“Yeah, you’re probably right about that,” she confesses quietly.
“You’re amazing, Freya. And the guy is a fucking asshole for letting you go.”
She mumbles something as I pull into my underground garage.
“If it’s okay with you, I’ll just leave my things in the guest room and collect them tomorrow. I have my car keys in my purse.”
My heart slams against my ribs. I don’t want her to leave. I want her to come up so we can spend the rest of the night hanging out. We could watch a movie and …
She’s your employee…
“Yeah, whatever. As long as you don’t need any of it.”
“Nothing I can’t do without until tomorrow.”
I nod, desperately trying to come up with a reason why she shouldn’t leave. But there isn’t one.
“Okay then. Well, I guess I’ll see you in the morning,” I say as I kill the engine, and we both push the car doors open.
“Yep. Bright and early for breakfast,” Freya says, almost as if she’s questioning her need to leave. I don’t allow myself to believe that, though. She probably just doesn’t want to drive home.
I glance over her shoulder at her car. Honestly, I don’t really want her driving home in that thing either.
It looks about two weeks away from being made into soda cans.
But I keep my mouth shut, because it’s really not my place to comment on her mode of transportation.
I’m paying her well. Surely she’ll upgrade soon.
“Drive safely,” I call as she moves away from me, digging her keys from her purse.
“Always,” she shoots over her shoulder.
“Message me when you get home so I know you made it in one piece.”
“Sure thing, Dad,” she teases.
I tip my head back and close my eyes.
Fucking hell. What am I doing?
I’ve never asked a single person ever to message me when they’re safely home. What is this?
I stand there in the middle of the parking garage long after the rumble of Freya’s old beat-up engine has disappeared, wishing I had played that differently. Wishing that she were still here. But despite what I might want, I know I just did the right thing.
Freya is too good for the likes of me.
She’s just getting over a fucked-up relationship with a guy who clearly had major issues. The last thing she needs is to be entangled with another.
To the world, I might put on a good show, but underneath it all, I’m just a lost, broken, lonely little boy desperate to find love.
But she’s not the one.
She can’t be.
She deserves so much more.