Chapter 59 Cole
COLE
The confidence with which she makes that statement makes my stomach knot painfully tight.
She’s right. I know she is. But if anything, that makes all of this worse.
We’ve barely embarked on this relationship, and I already feel like I’m failing her.
All I want to do is keep her safe and protected, and already, the internet is full of stories and photos of her, and there is an entire crowd of paps outside ready to rip a few more pieces from her.
I refuse to let that happen. I don’t know yet how I’m going to make it happen, but I’m going to protect her. One way or another, I’ll do it.
She deserves to have a man who fights for her, not one who throws her under the bus at any possible opportunity to ensure the limelight is on him.
One look at the stories doing the rounds on socials this morning confirmed what I already knew about Rowan Conaway. He is the lowest of the low, and he had no right being anywhere near someone as pure and as good as Freya.
My Freya.
“Don’t tell me, he’s got an album dropping soon,” Freya muses as she pulls a bagel from the bag and unwraps it.
“What makes you say that?”
“A big publicity stunt before a release is classic Rowan. They’ve probably been searching for the perfect thing to boost his presence in the media for a while.”
“But…” My words die as I hear them before I say them.
“What?” she asks, ignoring her bagel and focusing on me.
I cringe. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but…why do they think you’re going to bring him all the extra coverage?”
I’m not sure how I expect Freya to react, but I don’t expect her to burst out laughing like I’m missing the punchline of my own joke.
“It’s not me, Cole. It’s you they want.”
I release a heavy breath.
“You play multiple times a week to a sold-out arena. If he can snag a few of your fans and turn them into his, who buy or stream this new album, then he’ll take that as a win.”
It should probably make me feel better that his intended target in all this is me. But it doesn’t. It doesn’t matter which one of us he's going after; it will ultimately hurt Freya.
“Fucking hell,” I groan, dragging my hand down my face and scrubbing my rough jaw.
My stomach growls, desperate for food, but as I stare down at everything I ordered, I’m not sure I can stomach it.
Shuffling beside me, Freya sits tall and rolls her head from side to side, attempting to relieve the tension.
“The good news,” she starts as she picks a bit of melted cheese from the edge of her bagel. “The album will release, and he’ll find something more exciting to focus on.”
I force a smile.
“Cole, I hate this,” Freya says, shifting closer and wrapping her tiny, warm hand around my thigh. “I really hate this. But…I’ve survived Rowan Conaway before, and I’ll do it again. All he wants is attention, and I don’t have any intention of giving him any.”
“No, I agree. I just fucking hate that he’s doing this to you.”
She nods in agreement. “It was inevitable. Taking this job, being here with you, it was always going to catch up with me eventually.”
“It shouldn’t,” I argue fiercely.
“No, it shouldn’t. But that’s not how Rowan or his PR people work.”
Silence falls between us as the reality of the situation continues to press down on us.
“Have you spoken to Hailee?” Freya asks before finally taking a bite of her breakfast.
“No, but she’s been blowing up my cell since sunrise.”
“You should probably return her call.”
“She can wait.”
Freya lifts a brow. “She’ll just turn up here. You know that, right?”
“She won’t,” I say confidently. Hailee knows how fiercely I protect my private life; I think the world would need to be crumbling beneath my feet for her to do that.
“You should eat,” she prompts when I continue to sit, holding my food.
We sit side by side and eat in silence as our minds race at a million miles a minute.
Every bite I take tastes like cardboard. I’m so glad I ordered in; I’d hate myself for thinking anything Freya cooks is tasteless like this. I know it’s not the food, it’s the circumstances we’re eating them in, but still. I want to enjoy every single mouthful Freya makes me.
She doesn’t speak again until she’s balled the paper up and thrown it in the bag.
Holding her hand out, she asks. “Can I please see what’s online?”
I don’t want to. I want to wrap her up in cotton and protect her from every single word that has been said about her for the public to read. But I don’t.
Digging my hand into my sweats pocket, I pull my cell out, unlock it, and pass it over.
I watch her closely as her eyes scan through everything written about her, the photos, both new and old.
The images of her looking happy with him make me regret not punching the motherfucker in the face when I had the chance even more.
And I can’t say it’s much better looking at the more recent ones of the two of us.
I had no idea there was someone hiding in the shadows, invading our privacy.
There are images of us out walking, outside the store the day I picked her up after I bought her car, us leaving the dog shelter with wide smiles on our faces, and, of course, last night.
But not just from our entrance at the event.
There are also images of us leaving the apartment and getting into an Uber.
At the restaurant, laughing with friends.
Our short relationship has been documented from almost the beginning.
But how? The only people who knew Freya was even working for me were close friends. How did someone—
“You fucking asshole,” Freya sneers.
I rear back, shocked at hearing her curse.
“What?” I ask, leaning over her shoulder to look at what she’s found.
She’s at the end of the article she was reading, and there, in black and while, is the journalist’s name.
Levi Cox.
“Levi…wasn’t that—”
“Yes,” she cries, jumping to her feet in favor of pacing back and forth. “Oh my god, I’m such an idiot. He…he…all of it was lies. That’s why he was at the store that day. He followed me. He knew…he—”
“Freya,” I breathe, stepping in front of her and taking her shoulders in my hands. “It’s okay.”
Her chest is heaving, her body trembling with frustration, and when she finally looks up, her eyes meeting mine, they’re full of tears and self-hatred.
“This is why I don’t trust people,” she explains. “They’re all out to get something.”
Her first tear falls, and I tug her into my body and wrap her in my arms.
“You weren’t to know,” I say softly. “You never did anything wrong.”
Her tears soak my chest as she fights to catch her breath.
“B-but h-how did h-he know?” she stutters through her sobs. “I n-never t-told him about y-you.”
“I don’t know, baby.”
“He…he genuinely seemed like a hockey fan.”
“Maybe he is. Maybe this whole thing might not have been malicious.”
She nods, dragging in a ragged breath.
“This is going to blow over, Freya. Everything will be okay.”
“So you don’t think I’m a money-grabbing, fame-hungry whore?”
I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t contain my laughter. It’s such an un-Freya-like thing to say.
Releasing her, I take her face in my hands and duck down so I can stare straight into her eyes.
“No,” I state firmly. “There isn’t a single part of me that thinks that about you.
No one who truly knows you would ever think that.
If our friends see this, they’ll know instantly it’s bullshit.
Anyone who matters will cast it all aside without a second thought.
All this does to those who know is make Rowan Conaway look like the pathetic jerk he really is. ”
“Most won’t see that,” she says quietly.
“Fuck most people, Freya. Who gives a shit about them?”
More tears spill and run over my fingers as I hold her cheeks.
“No one.” Her voice is so soft, I wouldn’t hear the words if I weren’t so close.
“Exactly. The only thing I care about in this whole thing is the incredible woman standing before me. The talented, kind, caring, thoughtful, sexy, funny, overthinking, blurts-out-whatever-she’s-thinking woman in my hands right now that owns every inch of me.”
Her breath catches at my confession, and she blinks back more tears.
“Freya,” I breathe, leaning forward to rest my forehead against hers. “I think…” I start, my heart racing so hard I feel a little lightheaded. “I think I’m falling for you, too.”
Her skin pulls beneath mine, and when I move back a little, I find a deep frown marring her pretty face.
“Cole, I—”
I press two fingers against her lips.
“Freya, I do not care about anything that is happening outside this apartment, nor will I ever. What I care about is right here.” I drop my hand to her chest, feeling the solid beat of her heart, just like she did to me not so long ago.
“You blew in here like a whirlwind, and you turned my world on its head.”
Her lips part like she’s about to argue or, more likely, apologize.
“And I wouldn’t have it any other way. You’ve brought warmth and laughter to my previously sad and cold life.
This place was my sanctuary where I could hide from the world, but you’ve turned it into a home.
You’ve forced me to take a step back and really look at the way I was living, the way I was keeping everyone at arm’s length, the way my past was still affecting my future.
“I can’t say things will change fast; I might always be somewhat of a lone ranger.
But I want more, Freya. I want to be surrounded by those I love, and those I think might just care about me too.
” A proud smile appears on her lips. “I want to have a family. My friends, you, your parents—if they’ll have me.
” A laugh bursts out of her at that. “But mostly, I just want you.”
“Cole,” she breathes, her voice cracked with emotion.
“I can’t promise it’ll be easy, or that I’ll do the right thing. I’ll be annoying and no doubt selfish at times, and I’ll be gone a lot of the time, but I want this. I want a future with you, a…forever with you. If you’ll have me?”
She nods furiously. “Yes,” she cries. “Yes, I’ll have you.” She seals her words with a kiss, allowing me to taste the saltiness of her tears when our tongues collide.
What starts as something sweet, romantic even, quickly turns into something else entirely, and before I know I’ve even done it, I’ve laid her back on the couch and crawled between her thighs.
Fuck the rest of the world; this is all I need.
This is all I’m ever going to need.